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  • Daughter of the Blood(Black Jewels,Book 1)(68) by Anne Bishop
  • Guinness looked at Daemon's sweat-soaked shirt and rubbed his bristly chin with his knuckles. "Gave you a bit of a time, did he?"

    "It was mutual."

    "Well, at least he'll still respect you in the morning."

    Daemon choked. When he could breathe again, he almost asked about the tree but thought better of it. Andrew was the one who rode Demon.

    After Guinness left to check on the feed, Daemon walked across the yard to where Andrew was grooming the horse.

    Andrew looked up with a respectful smile. "You stayed on him."

    "I stayed on him." Daemon watched the boy's smooth, easy motions. "But I had some trouble with him by a certain tree."

    Andrew looked flustered. The hand brushing the stallion stuttered a little before picking up the rhythm again.

    Daemon's eyes narrowed, and his voice turned dangerously silky. "What's special about that tree, Andrew?"

    "Just a tree." Andrew glanced at Daemon's eyes and flinched. He shifted his feet, uneasy. "It's on the other side of the rise, you see. The first place out of sight of the house."

    "So?"

    "Well . . ." Andrew looked at Daemon, pleading. "You won't tell, will you?" He jerked his head toward the house. "It could cause a whole lot of trouble up there if they found out."

    Daemon fought to keep his temper reined in. "Found out what?"

    "About Miss Jaenelle."

    Daemon shifted position, the motion so fluid and predatory that Andrew instantly stepped back, staying close to the horse as if for protection. "What about Miss Jaenelle?" he crooned.

    Andrew gnawed on his lip. "At the tree . . . we . . ."

    Daemon hissed.

    Andrew paled, then flushed crimson. His eyes flashed with anger, and his fists clenched. "You . . . you think I'd . . ."

    "Then whatdo you do at that tree?"

    Andrew took a deep breath. "We change places."

    Daemon frowned. "Change places?"

    "Change horses. I've got a slight build. The pony can carry me."

    "And she rides . . . ?"

    Andrew put a tentative hand on the stallion's neck.

    Daemon exploded. "You little son of a whoring bitch, you put a young girl up onthat!"

    The stallion snorted his displeasure at this display of temper.

    Common sense and dancing hooves won out over Daemon's desire to throttle the stable lad.

    Caught between the stallion and the angry Warlord Prince, Andrew's lips twitched with a wry smile. "You should see her up onthat. And he takes care of her, too."

    Daemon turned away, his anger spent. "Mother Night," he muttered, shaking his head as he walked toward the house and a welcome hot shower. "Mother Night."

    CHAPTER SEVEN

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire