CHAPTER 2

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There's nothing like the hunt, especially when the moon is bright

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There's nothing like the hunt, especially when the moon is bright.

I dismount my black steed, a big fucker I call Phantom. The horse never fails to startle strangers like he's a damn ghost, despite his size. It wasn't always the horse's name, but the nickname stuck and now the stubborn ass refuses respond to anything else.

The weight of my armor clinks together when I hit the dirt—most of the weight from my leather—which allows for agility. The tailored hide is all stained a deep color of red, so blood blends easier into it.

I pet the horse's nose—the only creature or person I show any affection for—and make my way through the outpost of Talon's Perch, running a hand through my chin length black hair, smoothing it out of my face.

The outpost has dirt roads, wooden buildings, and just gets bigger every year; soon they'll have cobbled streets. Braziers light up the main strip, windows glowing orange from the candles inside.

I ignore the myriad of reactions to my presence—most of the onlookers flee, some look at me with opportunity glinting in their gaze, and a few slender things latch their wide eyes on me, no doubt hoping I'll make their bellies swell so their sons can be attributed to a father named Soren.

As much as I enjoy fucking women from outside of Skull's Row—enjoying the challenge of making even the primmest princesses buckle at her knees, willing to do the impurest acts just to please me—I have to ignore them tonight.

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