Page 149 of Vasmora

Zevander didn’t bother to answer.

“Now that we’re traveling companions, perhaps you might want to know my name.” It seemed the man refused to be ignored, and I couldn’t help but smile at his persistence.

“I don’t,” Zevander said dryly.

“Someone woke with a sword up their asshole.” His comment pulled a laugh from me, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle it. “It’s Daelan.”

“What does it matter, if I can’t distinguish a single one of you from the other?”

“You’re just not astute, is all.” He yanked back his sleeve to show a skull inked on his forearm. “Most beautiful women in the world have laid eyes on that tattoo. Including you,” he said, waggling his brows at me.

Zevander groaned. “Isn’t there a code amongst you Wrathborne to keep fucking quiet?”

“I don’t follow codes. Being a killer doesn’t mean you’ve gotta be a moody prick.” He jerked his head. “Look at Lothare, for example. Nicest guy you’ll ever meet. But cross him? He’ll pull your tongue through your asshole and dab the drool from your mouth.”

Again, I chuckled into my palm, and the jerk of Zevander’s chest told me he stifled his own laugh.

“I imagine you’re doom and gloom when you pull a blade on a man, aren’t you?” Daelan snorted. “Probably have ‘em pissin’ themselves.”

“Would you like to find out firsthand?”

“It’s perfectly okay to wear a smile when you draw a knife across a throat.” Daelan rolled his shoulders back, adjusting himself on the saddle. “Hell, I sometimes sing to ‘em. No sense being miserable.”

Zevander tensed behind me, and at first, I thought it might’ve been Daelan’s comment that bothered him, until the wolves growled.

Two of them darted up the adjacent hill. Two more bolted in the other direction.

The moment one of the men leading the group silently raised his hand, everyone stopped.

I glanced around, peering through the ghostly white trunks and mist in search of what they chased, my senses nowhere near as keen.

Minutes passed.

Zevander shifted at my back, his grip ironclad. As my nerves prickled, I focused on the pressure of his arms. The security.

Deep breaths.

The wolves plodded slowly back to the group, casting an occasional glance behind, and the man at the front lowered his hand, setting everyone back into motion.

“What happened just now?” I whispered, still unsure if we were allowed to speak. “You sensed something, too.”

“I heard movement through the trees.” Zevander clicked his tongue and gave a light tap of his heel, setting the horse back on path.

I glanced over at the trees and back. “An animal?”

“An animal blends into the wood. Man moves through it.”

“Ah, that is profound as all hell,” Daelan said beside us. “I’m making a mental note of that one.”

The sound of disapproval that grumbled in Zevander’s throat vibrated across my back, and I would’ve laughed, if not for the nagging sensation that something was following us.

“Is there no one else you can ride alongside?” Zevander grumbled.

Daelan chuckled. “We’re going to be good friends, you and me. I can feel it.”

As the two spoke, I focused on the cold sensation slithering through my chest again. The dampness of my palms. Ringing in my ears.

Slipping again.