11. The Funeral II

My body jerks and I instinctively reach for the pistol in the back of my pocket, but I am stopped by the fingers catch my wrist with shocking speed and I am shoved forward, my torso pressed against the counter with bruising force. “I don’t think so, wild cat.”

I try to twist my head to get a glimpse of the bastard but his vise-like grip only tightens and if I move even a little, my arm will fucking dislocate from its socket. Cursing under my breath, I hold still.

“Good girl,” he says in a deep voice that appeals to all six senses of mine, erotically. All of them have that effect. All the vile creatures of Avallen. They speak to you and the first thing you think of is having sex with them. Even if I am appalled and angry, my body begins to grow hot at the feel of his breath against the shell of my ear. “Friend of yours? She looks delicious.”

My gaze jerks up to find Grace who’s making her way over to us, worry glinting in her eyes. My heart slows. “No,” I breathe. “I don’t know her.”

I