Lord of Rage & Primal Instincts by Jill Monroe

the boys’ attempts to cajole her into sharing more stories, the camaraderie of the evening before was definitely over.
    “How long does it take before we get to the village?” she asked Bernt after they were well into their walk.
    “We can usually arrive by noon,” Osborn answered instead.
    Some time later she stumbled over a dead tree limb hidden in the brush. Three different male hands offered assistance. She grabbed for Torben’s and Bernt’s. Osborn’s eyes narrowed, and he glared at his brothers.
    Around midmorning, they stopped to take a break around an old fire ring obviously used by travelers. The boys ran off for privacy while she plopped herself on a wooden stump as far away from Osborn as she could get.
    A large figure blocked the sun. A shadow fell across her lap as she was rubbing her feet. An Osborn-shaped shadow. But she didn’t look up. “You’ve been avoiding me all morning. Why?”
    Her shoulders slumped, and instead of feeling lighter that Osborn would soon be out of her life for good, the knowledge weighed on her heavily. She understood his reasons for not helping her, but she wasn’t going to make it easy on him.
    He wore his longish hair tied back for their trip to town. Black seemed to be his color of choice; he woreit again today. He kept his appearance modest, but there was nothing simple about the huge sword strapped to his side. All together Osborn was devastating to her senses. Never had a man looked so strong, so powerful and so capable to her than the warrior. And right now she needed all of those things. Desperately. How could she not respond to him physically? Emotionally? And now he wanted some kind of explanation about her avoidance of him.
    After steeling herself against the pull of his dark brown eyes, she met his gaze. “What do you want from me? I came to you for help. To find my family, to avenge their deaths. You won’t give it to me—I can accept that—but I don’t plan to sit around and discuss the weather or something with you now.”
    He glared down at her. “You tried to get your magic to trap me.”
    “If that’s how you want to view it,” she told him, her voice tired. If that’s how he still thought of her, she’d never convince him otherwise.
    “I won’t be used. Ever again. By anyone.”
    “Good for you, Osborn. In fact, go back to your cottage and just seal yourself from the rest of the world. Forget how to live, and die alone because you’ll eventually run your brothers off, too. Just point me in the direction of town, and I’ll handle the rest.”
    “I’m taking you,” he said between clenched teeth.
    She put the uncomfortable shoes back on her feet. “Then let’s not waste any more time here. The sooner you discard me at the village, the sooner you can be away from me.”
    Breena began walking in the direction they were originally headed, and when Osborn’s brothers fell along beside her, she let out a small sigh of relief. Afterher big talk to their brother, she’d hate looking foolish by having to turn around and walk a different direction.
    The sun was almost directly overhead when they crested a small hill. Below them a green valley stretched to the horizon, and there, nestled at the bottom, was a village. Having always been kept behind castle walls, the idea of exploring, even for just a few moments, took away the gloom of Osborn leaving her and what she must surely face in the coming days.
    “Let’s go,” she told the boys, and they looped arms and charged down the hill, laughing all the way. Osborn followed behind, his hand never leaving his pack, his gaze constantly scanning around them.
    The village was charming; the houses were similar to Osborn’s cottage but sanded and painted bright colors. A central road divided the small town, and booths and stalls invited her with enticing smells and beautiful fabrics. She remembered a story her mother once told of a boy made of wood tempted by all he saw in the village. The sights and