stab her second arm through the strap.

She spun around and lunged for it, but he lifted the pack high above her hands. He started to explain he would carry the load so they could make better time and not because he was trying to touch her sword.

Her momentum sent her flying into his chest.

He caught her to him.

His heart rate tripled and his body reacted to her even faster. Daegan froze, unwilling to move with the bulge pressing his normally comfortable jeans.

Fingers clutched his shirt as her foot slid in the mud.

He wrapped an arm around her waist.

Everything stopped.

Daegan could swear the world slowed and the wind lay down as he stared into her searing blue gaze. Her breathing quickened and her heart thumped wildly against his chest.

Had touching him affected her as much as it did him?

Fire blazed in her gaze as realization of her position became clear. She curled her lips back and shoved away from him. “Give me my damn backpack.”

“No.”

“You can’t take my property.”

He pushed out a sigh that sounded as if his dragon grumbled. “Why do ya always think the worst of me?”

“You make it so easy.” She crossed her arms. An errant lock of the rich auburn hair fell across her forehead.

Would she attack him if he brushed it away?

Why would he do that? Daegan scowled, more at himself than her. “I merely lifted the pack to lighten your load as we walk. Your possessions do not interest me.”

She visibly struggled to accept his explanation. Then she smiled, but it had a mean glint. “Liar. Last night at my cottage, ya asked me about my sword as if it did not belong to me.”

Lowering the pack to loop one strap across his shoulder, he admitted, “I was surprised to find that sword in this current day. ’Tis very old. Do ya know who once carried it?”

“Yes.” She started walking backwards.

He followed her, tempted to smile at the way she used his one word answer to frustrate him.

But this was no time to smile.

Or to be thinking of this woman in any way other than an opponent. Certainly not a sexual liaison.

Surely, it had been too long since he’d had a woman to have those thoughts at this moment. “Ya will not tell me the original owner?”

“Nope.” She stopped and shifted her stance, clearly willing to wait him out.

“Very well. Lead the way and I will cloak us when need be.”

She stretched out her hand. “The backpack.”

Hardheaded woman. He slid it off his shoulder and held it with the straps open so she could hook each arm.

Once she had everything latched to suit her, she muttered an angry, “Thank you.”

She may not care for his company, but her anger would not allow her to overlook her manners. Such a funny woman.

After walking a short distance, they stopped at her cottage, which was on the way.

Luigsech walked in and stared at the destruction. She swallowed hard. “What happened to the Imortik things I beheaded?”

“Before leavin’ to hunt for ya last night, I moved them outside and burned their bodies.” Daegan grimaced at her sadness over the destruction inside her pretty cottage.

She wrinkled her nose. “Still smell them.”

“The smell will go away.” He had not wanted this to happen to her home, but he bore the guilt for it. Imortiks had come for him, drawn by the venom in his body.

He couldn’t use majik to fix this mess for two reasons. One was she did not need to know what he could do, and additionally, he had no idea of the limits to his energy right now. He had to be careful not to tap his power when unnecessary.

“We cannot stay long, lass.”

She seemed to catch herself. “Right. I need a quick shower and food.”

He took in her soiled shirt and ripped pants, then her exhaustion. “Have your shower and I will find food.”

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What will you cook?”

“Whatever I find. Go on with your cleanup. We only have a few minutes to spend.” He waved a hand to brush her away.

Grumbling under her breath, she went to her bedroom. A minute later, he heard water running.

Daegan deemed cleaning up the mess a necessary use of kinetics. Once he had it reasonably clean and the broken furniture stacked in a pile, he searched the kitchen. She had a large bowl of stew in her cooling box. Refrigerator. He mentally thanked Tristan for constantly introducing him to modern elements.

Where was Tristan? His second-in-command had to know Daegan would come for him as soon as he had a location.

Daegan found a pot and dumped the stew in it, then pointed his finger to light a fire beneath the pot. He found two bowls and spoons. The smell lifting from the stew had his stomach growling.

Would Cathbad take care with Tristan to avoid being turned to ashes by Daegan’s dragon? Or would the druid think he’d outwitted Daegan and do as he pleased, believing Daegan would never find out?

Daegan’s fist tightened and his hand turned bright red from the heat building. Something dripped on his boot.

He opened his hand.

He’d melted her spoons into a silver blob. Hell.

The list of things he’d have to replace in this cottage kept adding up. Opening his hand, he dumped the misshapen spoons into the garbage and found two new ones. He placed those next to the bowls on the small table that had survived the battle.

“I’m finished,” Luigsech said, walking out of the hallway with her hair damp and wearing an aqua-blue pullover with a clean pair of jeans. Boot tips stuck out from beneath the pants.

The lass cleaned up nicely. More than nice.

He had just spooned stew into the bowls and stood at the sink, rinsing the pot. He cast a look over his shoulders.

She took in the cleaned-up living area with debris moved into stacks, the table set up for two people, and the stew cooking. Everything in her face said she did not

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