A Soul to Guide (Duskwalker Brides, #4)

by Opal Reyne

stare in awe at the little red, blue, green, and silver orbs that hung from the ceiling and changed locations to mimic their current astronomical points in the sky.

For Raewyn, who could not see,

Last time, when she had been trying to uncover the spell through her equations, she’d accidentally turned her dark-brown skin a bright purple. People had, jokingly, called her hufflepumpkin for a week!

He would be a fun puzzle to solve, and Raewyn did love anything that was puzzling and difficult.

Run, little bunny. Run.

Raewyn hated being lied to, especially since she had nothing to gauge a person by but their words.

“I wear an amulet that creates a human glamour.”

I don’t care who is at fault, who is wrong, who is good or evil. All I care about is one thing.” “Which is?” “You.”

“What is your name, then? If it isn’t Merc.” “Merikh,” he grunted. Her whole body drained of heat as her blood ran cold. His name means death and slaughter.

Not when he’d been originally planning to make her his meal.

He was a little relieved he couldn’t see her behind him, and that her other pretty features were hidden by her cloak.

It helped that he found her voice, and even her little Elvish accent, pleasant. It was almost musical, in its own

way. It was so gentle and feminine he thought she could lull any creature into a calm stupor if she tried.

Then, Merikh tilted his head and got down on one knee. Yellow shifted into his sight, taking over its usual red.

He lifted her foot to inspect the arrow markings on her flesh in deep curiosity.

“Merikh,” she said, causing his quills to shudder and short fur to puff slightly as a thrill swept through him. It was the first time she’d said his real name to him in her melodic and heavenly voice. His reaction was so shocking to him that his orbs turned a reddish pink in embarrassment.

Does fishing usually take this long? he mentally mocked, refusing to answer in case it frightened off an unsuspecting fish.

“You have five minutes,” he snapped as he walked just past the trees and bushes. “Or I’ll leave you here.” The giggle that came from her was light and airy, full of mischief. “No, you won’t.”

He peeked back to see she’d literally stuck her tongue out at him like he’d seen children do to each other.

She was more irksome than he’d originally anticipated. I should have just eaten her...

Raewyn and her people had long ago discovered that someone’s exterior meant very little, and it was their actions that should be judged.

orange and cinnamon scent

If he’s so strong, I wish he’d carry me.

The man had judged his bony face immediately upon seeing it and decided Merikh wasn’t righteous enough to enter their lame temple.

he was becoming smitten with purposefully annoying the little Elf.

She always responded with an adorable pout or a cute brow furrow.

“She said she’s fine with me,” Merikh cut in with a growl, snuffing the urge to curl his arm around Raewyn’s shoulders and possessively keep the pretty Elf glued to his side.

And what was he supposed to do with the Elf he now had? The one he weirdly felt compelled to... keep.

“Apologise,” Merikh snarled,

With one last tug from her, the man thumped against the ground as he was dropped. “You’re lucky she asked so nicely.”

Merikh’s large palm slipped over her slender shoulder, and he shoved her into the nook of his side.

he palmed down to her biceps, never actually letting her go. It was almost like how a man put their arm around a lover’s shoulders, but Merikh was just ensuring no one else bumped into her.

The embrace was protective, dominant, and it almost felt... possessive.

Merikh stood next to the two double beds pushed together and stared down at the pretty Elf while she slept.

Merikh tapped a claw at the navy bonnet around her hair, noting the silky material, curious as to why she was wearing such an apparatus on her head.

He ran the back of his knuckle over the rim of one. A strange emotion bubbling in his chest almost caused him to chuckle when her long ear flicked wildly under the light touch. Is she sensitive here? He did it again, and it flicked. Raewyn let out a soft groan, before burying her face against the pillow, as though that was enough to escape him. She was only lucky he didn’t wish to disturb her.

She’s too fucking pretty.

Merikh was a Duskwalker, a faceless freak. Why did he think he had the right to touch a female with a face carved by an angel?

Although the tool he was crafting would mean she’d require less of his assistance –

She looked like a lazy bunny peeking out from the grass, docile and guileless.

Watching her cry and then being able to calm her himself... had been a new experience for him. He’d never been someone’s comfort, nor had he ever had someone choose to lean against him so openly like she had. And she’d clung to his side.

“This is for you,”

“What is it?”

“I’ve seen humans with visual impairments use these. A guide cane, I believe

“Did... you make this for me?”

“Yes,”

“Remember that farming town?” he asked. “How they

wouldn’t permit us entry due to the recent murderer in the southlands?” Raewyn didn’t like where this was going. “Yes?”

“He’s currently hold...

How could you do such a thing? You’re basically a serial killer!”