The Barbarian’s Tribute (Not-So-Savage Barbarians #1)

Thirteen

R ath was gone for hours. I did as he asked and went back to the tent to wait, but it felt like time dragged on. I paced the tiny space, worrying my bottom lip with my teeth and twisting my fingers. Every time I heard someone walk past, I peeked out, listening to see if anyone was talking about Rath. A few mentioned the hunting group, but none said anything about him returning.

Supper time came and went. I was certain Rath wouldn’t be mad if I left to get something to eat, but I was too nervous to want to. My stomach churned uncomfortably, the worry eating at me, so I didn't even think about putting anything in it.

Eventually, I had to sit down or risk throwing up. I wrapped my arms around my knees, hugging them tightly, and willed myself not to cry. I berated myself for causing trouble, for putting Rath in danger by luring out a creature that was obviously dangerous. Hours passed with me doing that. I might have dozed here and there, but I was still berating myself when Rath came back. He looked exhausted, and his expression was grim. My stomach sank as I looked up at him, but he didn’t say anything to me. He took off his weapons, leaving them resting by the bedding, and crawled over me, burying his face in my neck as he held me tight.