Captive Of The Warg, (Wargs of the Outland #2)

Reason To Hate

Reia brushed her fingers over her neat stitches laddering up the laceration on Bayne's tricep. His nose flared as he watched her from the tail of his eye, his skin rippling.

Sucking her underlip between her teeth, she scooted back to pack up her needle and the last of the old spidergut. She side-eyed the fresh wound as she buckled her satchel. How close he'd come to death. Yet there was no sign of venom in his blood—no fever. She shook her head. "I swear you only injure yourself to keep me in this perpetual bargain."

He turned to smirk at her, but before any words left his chiseled lips, his ears suddenly pricked to the door and his eyes cooled.

Reia heard it then—boots racing briskly across the hall. Then Ania's voice splintered the unexpected peace that'd settled between them.

"In here," Bayne muttered, venting a heavy sigh.

Reia clutched her satchel to her chest and slipped off the bed. She wanted to sketch the spindrath and make notes, anyway. Her duty here was done. "I'll just—"

"Stay," Bayne commanded, standing.

Reia bristled but bit her tongue as Ania breezed into the chamber.

"I heard about the attack!" Her face was tight and harried and she hurried across the floor, a small bag clutched in her hand. "Are you all right, min sianur?" She shouldered Reia aside and threw her leather bag onto the floor, the supplies blinking noisily within. "I brought wormweed for the venom."

"There's no need," Bayne replied brusquely, letting her inspect Reia's small stitches.

Ania's brow fell lower as she surveyed Reia's work. She raised her eyes from the sutures and shot Reia a long look. "How did you treat the venom," she demanded, almost accusingly.

But Bayne answered, his voice stern. "With her blood..." He let the impact of his statement stretch between them, watching as his mother's mouth turned hard.

Ania gave a curt nod, her brow lifting on one side as she glared at the stitches again. "What thread did you use for the stitches, girl."

It was on the tip of her tongue not to answer Har Modur's sour tone after that last stab of belittling deprecation. But she caught a flash of impressive curiosity beneath the glower and heard the grudging respect knotting Har Modur's throat. "It's spidergut silk," she finally replied, earning a deeper frown.

"The spindrath?" Ania clarified, glancing at her son's wound again. "That's why you hunted the creature?"

Both Reia and Bayne nodded.

Ania released Byane's arm and snatched up her herb bag. She hesitated in the center of the room, her golden eyes so much paler than her son's. "I wish to know more of this spidergut silk."

Reia folded her arms. "Is that a please?"

Ania snorted and left the room, her skirts slapping a rude farewell.

Bayne rubbed the back of his neck with his good arm and sat back on the mattress with a loud sigh. "Don't hold your breath for that please."

"I won't." She breathed in the linseed scent of her bag and let it infuse her with calm in the wake of Ania's disquieting presence. "I sleep with one eye open because of that woman."

Bayne was off the bed again, this time marching to the hearth to grab the fire steel shaped like a jaw bone. Within moments, he had a hearty fire grumbling in the hearth. "My mother has reason to hate you kind, Fureia." He leaned his large hand above the mantle shelf and stared down into the ravenous flames, biting into the air with long teeth.