Hunted by Misu Loy EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Misu Loy
- Language: English
- Genre: Dragons & Mythical Creatures Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Giggles carried on the late summer breeze, prickling Raine’s
concentration like floating thorns. Steel flashed against sunlight as
he wiped his brow with his sword arm. Turning, he encountered a trio of
fresh-faced laundresses.
They lined the front row of bleachers and faced the training yard. Chins
cradled in water-pruned palms. Pink mouths tremulous with restrained
laughter. Eyes, bright with heat and mischief, trailed avidly down Raine’s
exposed chest.
Suppressing a sigh, he tipped his sword to the ground and relaxed his
stance. Resting one hand on his hip, he let the women look their fill. He
knew from experience their tittering spectatorship wouldn’t abate without a
thorough perusal of the goods. Many of the younger female servants—and a
discomfiting amount of matrons—found reason to cross this expanse of
courtyard when he exercised, shirtless or not.
The laundress seated center leaned forward, exposing her freckled bosom
as she crooked a finger. Her companions squirmed with embarrassed glee at
the daring gesture, waiting bug-eyed for Raine’s reaction. He stiffened, then
deliberately pushed his agitation aside. The women were a distraction, yes,
but they meant no harm.
Even so, he ignored the wench’s brash summons.
If the continuation of mankind relied upon Raine procreating, the world
would be doomed. Flirtation, courtship, sex? It was all as appealing as a
toothache. His father swore he would feel differently someday. That day
was not today.
A swish of gray skirts drew his attention. Rounding the bailey was
Moranda, the head housekeeper. Neck bent forward and shoulders swaying,
she resembled a boarhound on the hunt. Her ruddy features darkened
beneath her cowl as she marched for her laundresses. Winking and waving,
Raine’s impromptu audience remained none-the-wiser as their dour mistress
stalked their backs.
Moranda’s glower flicked to Raine, deepening to scorn. Scorn and fear.
Only for an instant, but it was enough.
Clenching the sweat-slicked hilt of his dull practice sword, Raine angled
his frame away from the servants’ drama. Moranda was not the only
superstitious person at Chambrin Keep. He ought to be accustomed to such
attitudes.
But it was a damnable thing, illogical hate. Its nonsensical nature kept it
fresh and new. And dreadful.
At nineteen, he was a grown man. Yet Raine’s stomach still knotted at
each stranger he encountered—never certain if they would loathe or fear
him on sight for his unnaturally pale hair and eyes.
A chorus of shrill apologies erupted from behind as the head housekeeper
confronted her idle laundresses. Coarse oaths interwove Moranda’s barking
commands as she dogged them back to work. Raine picked absently at a
patch of white clover with his sword tip until they were gone.
Propping his blade against the newly vacant bleachers, he began to stretch
his aching muscles. Nose to knee, he moaned as pure fire raced up his leg in
a calf stretch. Even absent a sparring partner, he had exerted his entire body.
Raine switched legs, dragging his other booted heel upon the weather
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