That’s what I’m worried about.
CHAPTER 53
OSRIK
The army is fucking tired.
I’ve been pushing them hard, trying to get the hell out of Fifth. The goal was to get to Cliffhelm. Since the outpost is right at our border, I was planning on letting the army stock up on supplies, have a few days to rest, and then travel the rest of the way through Fourth Kingdom at a slower pace.
But that all went to shit.
The shipment never showed up to Cliffhelm, so instead of being able to recoup, I was forced to send the soldiers off quicker than I anticipated, because we were seriously lacking in supplies.
Luckily, the terrain changes a lot more as we get further into Fourth. The last bit of snow is on the balding heads of the mining mountains. Dust rises around their bases in a halo, evidence of our own people working the veins and getting up gems and oil.
Before we could get into the better part of Fourth where the landscape finally has trees and wildlife and shit, we had to get past the layer of rot. Doesn’t bother me so much anymore, I’m so damn used to it. There’s rot surrounding the entirety of Fourth’s border, so I’ve walked past decayed plants and sunken right through collapsed, sickly ground many, many times.
This rot isn’t just an eyesore, either. Because we get a lot of rain out here, the cracked, wasted land stinks. With the warmer weather and the perpetual rot feeding on the wet soil, the air is the scent of rancid meat and molded fruit.
Smells like home.
It makes for a shitty day of travel though, and everyone tied a thick piece of cloth around their faces. But this rot is a damn good deterrent for enemies. No one wants to cross this shit, not even our own army.
As soon as we passed the last of the squishy, mildewed ground, I let the army stop to rest. Luckily, the breeze is on our side, keeping the stench downwind. But no one has much of an appetite tonight, much to Keg’s annoyance. Good for our dwindling supplies though.
The camp is quieter than normal. The lieutenants have been trying to keep everyone’s mood up, so the talk about hunting fresh meat tomorrow night is the damned slapped-on bandage on the gaping morale that we need.
We’re done with the snow, done with the rot, and back in our own kingdom. Now we just have to get to the Brack—Brackhill Castle and capital—and they can finally fucking take a break and go home to their families after being gone for these long months. Definitely a morale boost.
I’m sitting around one of the large campfires with a bunch of the soldiers, listening to the right and left flanks talking shit to each other, not even suppressing my smirk.
“Judd and Lu would be proud,” Ryatt says next to me. “Their rivalry is going strong.”
“Good way to pass the time.”
Ryatt nods, head turning to the group playing music just to the left of us, Keg right there in the center of them. Behind us, the horses are grazing, a skimpy clump of trees offering shelter at our backs.
As I take a swig of some shitty wine that Himinn brought me, my mind strays to Rissa.
Been doing that a lot lately.
She fucking kissed me. It was weeks ago now, but ever since, I’ve been feeling like a damned animal in a rut. I’ve caught her scent, tasted her mouth, and every time I’m around her—or even when I’m not—I’m thinking about grabbing her lush ass, pinning her up against the nearest tree, and fucking that temper right out of her.
But her head’s not in it yet, so I’ve been giving her space.
Her body sure as shit is. There’s no denying the way her eyes dilate or the way her cheeks go all fucking cute and pink when she’s around me. But body responses don’t equal consent. I want her fierce temper to unfold into a wanton hellion as she comes around my cock, clawing at my back with demands because she wants it.
The fact that she ran away like her ass was on fire after she kissed me, and the fact that she didn’t leave her tent for the following two days, told me she wasn’t really ready.
I meant what I said—I’d never take advantage of a woman. We’ve got a pull, no doubt about it, but my instincts tell me she’s trying to fight against it. I’m not going to lie, a fancy woman like herself is definitely not used to a gruff soldier like me. I’m way too fucking rough around the edges for someone like her, but I want her anyway.
It’s a huge turn-on when she goes toe-to-toe with me. All of the women I’ve had in the past were submissive, and I liked that. But the fire in Rissa heats my blood like never before, makes me picture all the ways she would take what I gave her and deal it back tenfold. Arguing would be our foreplay.