Lover Unleashed Read Free

villagers who had carved out plots of land and planted stone houses under the shadows of the castle. This was typical of the Society’s recruiting strategy: Infiltrate a town, take over the males one by one, slaughter or sell off the women and children, abscond with weapons and horses, move along to the next in greater number.
    Xcor was of like mind with the enemy in this respect: When he was finished fighting, he always took whatever he could in the manner of assets before heading off for the next battle. Night by night the Bloodletter and his soldiers worked their way through what the humans called England, and when they reached the tip of the Scots territory, they would turn and hasten themselves back downward, moving south, south, south till the heel of Italy forced them to turn about. And then it was a case of going through those many miles yet anew. And again. And again.
    “We leave our provisions herein,” Xcor pronounced, pointing to a thick-trunked tree that had fallen over a creek.
    Whilst the transfer of their modest supplies was made, there was naught but the sound of creaking leather and the occasional snort from the stallions. When all was stowed under the flank of the downed oak, they remounted and gathered their high-bred horses—which were the only things of value other than the weapons that they possessed. Xcor did not see the usefulness in objects of beauty or comfort—those were naught but weight that bore you down. A strong horse and a well-balanced dagger? Those were priceless.
    As the seven of them rode unto the village, they made no effort to mute the pounding of their steeds’ hooves. There were no war cries, however. Such was wasted energy, as their enemy needed little invitation to come forth and greet them.
    In manner of welcome, a human or two peeked out of doors and then quickly locked themselves back in their abodes. Xcor ignored them. Instead, he scanned the squat stone houses and the center square and the fortified trading shops, searching for a bipedal form that was as pale as a ghost and stank like a corpse coated in treacle.
    His father rode up to him and smiled with a vicious edge. “Mayhap afterward we shall enjoy the fruits of the gardens herein.”
    “Mayhap, ” Xcor murmured as his stallion tossed its head. Verily, he wasn’t much interested in bedding females or forcing males to submit, but his sire was not one to be denied even in whims of leisure.
    Using hand signals, Xcor directed three of their band to the left, where there was a small structure with a cross atop its peaked roof. He and the others would take the right. His father would do what he pleased. As always.
    Forcing the stallions to remain at a walk was a chore that challenged even the stoutest of arms, but he was used to the tug-of-war and sat solidly in his saddle. With grim purpose, his eyes penetrated the shadows thrown by the moonlight, seeking, probing—
    The group of slayers that stepped free from the lee of the smithy had weapons aplenty.
    “Five,” Zypher growled. “Blessed be this night.”
    “Three,” Xcor cut in. “Two are but humans as yet—although killing that pair . . . ’twill be a pleasure as well.”
    “Which shall you take, m’lord?” his brother-in-arms said, with a deference that had been earned, not granted as part of some birthright.
    “The humans,” Xcor said, shifting forward and bracing for the moment he gave his stallion its head. “If there are other lessers about, that shall draw them out further.”
    Spurring on his great beast and melding into his saddle, he smiled as the lessers stood their ground in their chain mail and weaponries. The two humans beside them were not going to remain as steadfast, however. Although the pair were likewise kitted for fighting, they would turn and run at the first flash of fangs, spooking like plow horses from a cannon blast.
    Which was why he abruptly bore off to the right no more than three strides into the gallop. Behind the