Page 109 of Spar of Hearts

“Do I look like I give a damn?” Anya bit out. “I was having a perfectly lovely evening before you two bloody cockerels decided to sharpen your spurs instead of speaking like gentlemen!”

“Love?” The Were’s mate placed a hand on his shoulder, and one on her swollen belly. “I want to go home. Please? It was an accident. I’m fine. The pups are fine.”

His fur and claws receded with a long exhale. Anya loosened her grip, letting the man slip out and go to his mate. He knelt in front of her and rubbed his cheek on the swell of her belly. “All right. I’m sorry, Marie. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Hormonal mutt. It’s me he should apologize to,” the Elf muttered.

“Oh hush up and go home,” Roderick said, releasing the man with a shove toward the door. A cool breeze slipped in as the Elf escaped into the streets.

Roderick ran a hand through his hair as he sidled up to Anya, who was watching the Were and his mate compensate the barkeep, then leave out the back.

“Well. That was—”

“Invigorating,” Anya said, her breaths heavy and shaking with excitement. It wasn’t exactly the word he had in mind.

“Oi,” the barkeep called, waving them over. “Couple o’ strong Weres like yourselves would do well downstairs tonight. Prize pot is two gold pieces. Were rounds haven’t started yet.”

“How many silver to a gold piece?” Roderick asked.

“Ten.” The barkeep grabbed a clean, wet flagon and took a flour sack towel to it.

Anya’s brows narrowed. “What do we need to do?”

A wry grin stretched to the barkeep’s tapered ears. “It’s easy,” she said.

“You fight.”

Chapter 37

Anya Delemond

Roderick’s sweet words were still humming in Anya’s head as they descended the stone steps hand in hand.

I can’t imagine life without you.

He meant it. She’d never been so sure of anyone, or anything, in her entire life. Roderick had seen her finest and her worst, and he seemed to love her all the more for it—though that exact word hadn’t left his lips, she knew. He dove into the frigid sea for her without a second thought, held her as she writhed in agony, a twisted princess of tooth and maw.

He’d embraced her more wholly than anyone before, revealing depths of love in her heart she’d never felt before.

And there was no going back.

The sheer weight of those words made her tremble. If she loved him, she could lose him. If she lost him, she would surely lose herself. Even unspoken, she was laying her sword at his feet and placing her heart in his palm.

But could there be a safer place?

“Watch your step,” Roderick said softly, holding her hand up as they reached the landing. Rabid, muffled cheers radiated through the cellar walls.

“I can hold my ale better than you,” she countered, trying and failing to keep her voice steady.

He chuckled. “I’m sure you can. But let me be chivalrous, just this once.”

They approached a table where an Elf with a particularly ragged-looking owl sat with a couple sheets of parchment and a glass jar filled with coins.

“Betting or participating?” she asked in a nasally voice.

“Participating,” Anya said. She wasn’t about to sit on the sidelines. She had to get her hands on a blade and burn this nervous energy before spilling everything that was bottled up in her heart.

The woman lowered her wiry spectacles. “You can’t participate like that. No shifting allowed.”