Chapter 8 In Sickness and in Health and in Everything Else #3
Brioni did none of that either, though. She sat herself right on the straw and cupped the goat’s face in her hands as she admired the long, twisting fall of its ears.
Most demons were happy to have milk and cheese, but besides the few who ran the goat farm in Heck’s southern corner, they thought the animals’ boxy pupils and arched foreheads were ugly, and they weren’t quiet about it.
Ragnar paced across the barn to the stall she had settled down in. “Don’t you have more packages to deliver?”
“Only a few, but they’re all on the way back to the post from here. Where are the veilhounds?”
“Hunting.”
She tipped her head up from her spot on the ground, waiting for more as she caressed one of the goat’s long ears.
“They’re out in the Dreadmoor.”
Brioni gasped, though whether the shock was genuine or not, he couldn’t tell because it came with such a theatrical look: lips and eyes rounding like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
He hoped she would stop that, but his mind tucked the look away for later when he could be alone with his cock. “All by themselves?”
“No, together. In a pack.”
She tipped her head, curls falling away from her shoulders. “Why do they have to hunt? Don’t you feed them?”
“Yes, but they have instincts they need to satisfy.” Ragnar’s claws poked into his palms, though they shouldn’t have been such a surprise with her on her knees at his feet.
He swallowed hard, pushing away the thought of her mouth opening a little wider and her tongue slipping out.
“There are three distinct packs, and they rotate serving with the guard every few weeks, but they must form connections with every other hound to be at their best. I brought a rested pack to the barracks yesterday, and those that returned are now hunting with the remaining pack to bond.”
“Oh, they miss each other when they’re gone, and now they’re out having fun together? That’s so cute!”
Ragnar watched her smile to herself as she scratched under the goat’s chin. “They need one another to survive in the Dreadmoor. I do not know if they…miss each other. Or even have fun, for that matter.”
“Sure they do,” she said with the confidence of an elder beastkeeper. “When are they coming back? I want to get my hands on those fluffy ears.” Brioni flexed her fingers in Ragnar’s direction and bared all her blunt teeth as if that were proper protection against the deadliest creatures he kept.
“They aren’t as friendly as goats. And they aren’t familiar with humans. They might mistake you for a kewniq.”
She scoffed and rolled those green rings in her eyes. “I don’t have antlers.”
But you do have a round hind end, he thought, both charitably and not, then reminded himself he was not a veilhound either. He blinked into the darkness beyond the barn. “It’s getting late. If they’ve not returned yet, they’ll spend another night in the Dreadmoor.”
There was a heavy, dramatic sigh at his feet. “Okay, okay, I get it. It’s dark and you want me to go back to the post. You don’t have to haul me out of here this time.” She stood and wiped the straw off her skirt. “I mean, unless you really want to.”
Ragnar felt warmth flood into his face and took a step back. “I had no intention…” It was only half a lie since he hadn’t even been thinking about trying to make her leave, but he had thought about touching her. A lot.
“But, also, I just want to say: I won’t do that thing with the drayk again, so if I do bring another one back, it really is sick.
” She gave him a crooked smile then poked a finger into his chest. “But if I do bring you a for-real sick drayk, I will not let you kill it under any circumstances. You understand, mister?”
Ragner’s gaze fell on the spot she’d jabbed. It didn’t hurt, and yet it stung deeply, like she had touched a place no one ever should. Best not think much about that.
He glanced up into the barn’s rafters. With a whistle, a flicker of teal feathers came swooping down to land on his outstretched arm.
The drayk was incredibly healthy looking, if still a little miffed at the blame Brioni had heaped on her, and maybe a little at the death threat too.
“I would like to keep an eye on her so that she doesn’t get up to anything else mischievous. ”
“But she’s not really ill.”
He shrugged. “She should spend the night here. Perhaps you can come pick her up tomorrow when you’ve finished your route?”
“She can fly…”
Ragnar stared back at her, hard.
“Oh! Yes, I can come pick her up, and tomorrow is perfect because I have the day off.”
“The whole day?”
She nodded, curls bouncing as she clasped her hands and grinned.
“Well, then…tomorrow,” he said.
Brioni reached out to the drayk and ruffled her feathers. “Be good for Ragnar, okay? He doesn’t like misbehavior. At least, he says he doesn’t.” Then she winked—at the creature or at him, he couldn’t be sure—and skipped off.
Ragnar watched her go, drayk talons digging into his arm, but he barely felt them in lieu of his thunderous heart. It was going to be a long night, and when Brioni returned, an even longer day.