Drake of Tanith (Chosen Soul) by Heather Killough-Walden Page B

blowing. However, he let her go, allowing her to stumble back a step to straighten her singed tunic and ruined leather breeches.
    “Tanith,” came a gruff voice. They turned to see Grolsch rejoin them. The ork held two dead jackrabbits in one of his large hands. He raised it up and speared Drake with a meaningful look. “It’s dinner time.”
    “I don’t –” Raven began.
    “Eat animals,” Drake finished for her. He gave her an exasperated look. “We know.” Then he moved toward Grolsch, took one of the rabbits, and began setting up a skewer on top of the bonfire. “There are two tins in my pack,” he told Raven as he worked. “Open them and you’ll have your food.”
    Raven glanced at the small leather black bag Drake carried when he traveled. It was truly tiny. No one would believe that it contained anything other than the gold or platinum Raven knew Drake used to buy information, housing, and weapons. But Raven had seen the proof to the contrary.
    When Drake had first come after her at Astriel’s behest more than a month ago, he’d succeeded in capturing her. And then he’d set out a blanket and pulled two small metal canisters from his leather pack. These, he’d opened to reveal magically prepared food. Steaming soup. Warm baked bread. Cheese. Fresh, sweet strawberries.
    Raven wanted some magic tins like that. She wondered how much they cost. Knowing Drake and the vast amount of wealth he had no doubt amassed over the thousands of years that he’d existed and made a living at tracking people down, they weren’t cheap.
    She made her way to his bags and opened them. The tins were right on top. “I remember,” she mumbled without realizing it.
    “So do I,” came Drake’s deep voice.
    Raven froze over the packs and looked up to meet his gaze. A moment of heat passed between them, and then Drake pulled a large knife from the inside of his boot and Raven looked away, unable to watch what he was about to do.
    The containers looked just as she remembered. Raven’s stomach growled at the thought of what they would reveal when she opened them. Hastily, she sat on a nearby rock and popped the top off the larger of the two.
    At once, the smell of heated spices and cream wafted over her. She closed her eyes, put the canister of soup to her mouth, and took a sip. Broccoli cheddar.
    Bread , she thought. Bread would be perfect with this .
    Hoping that she would get lucky, Raven carefully placed the soup on a flat part of the sand before her and opened the other tin.
    It was bread.
    Now grinning broadly, Raven took the steaming fresh baked roll and dipped it into the soup. She took a bite so fast, broccoli cheese smeared the corner of her mouth, and she hungrily licked it off.
    “Looks good,” said Loki, who had come up beside her.
    She smiled up at him.
    “Smells good too,” he added.
    “It is.” She broke the bread in two and handed him the tin of soup. He sat down beside her, and they ate together in silence. Every once in a while they stole glances at the other two members of their “group.”
    Drake and Grolsch were more or less hidden by the high flames of the bonfire. Their outlines were all that Raven could make out. Perhaps this was done on purpose by the bounty hunter, as what they were doing to the rabbits Grolsch had killed was most likely not something Raven wanted to see.
    “You know,” said Loki, “Drake is eating that for a reason.”
    Raven swallowed the bit of bread she still had in her mouth and looked down at the container in her hands. “I know.”
    “Do you need some?” Loki asked.
    Raven turned to look at him. Concern etched his features.
    Devils needed to consume life in order to regain what strength they lost while using their magic. This meant eating animals – or drinking blood. Raven had used magic since leaving the castle, but not much. She’d killed the Rakshin, however she’d done so with a single attack. The truth was, she wasn’t feeling weak at the moment. She