Fleeing the clutches of her disreputable relatives, Sera Livingston has made her escape to Australia's Outback. Disguised as a boy, sharp-tongued Sera searches for her sister but is attacked by bushrangers. Thievery becomes her only chance at surviv...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A vicious hiss slid through Sera's clenched teeth and her jaw stung from the force of her bite. The taste of iron hit her tongue as she gnawed on the inside of her cheek, tearing the gummy flesh apart. Her shoulder ached with almost unbearable pain. Taking a small breath, she gathered herself and brought the shot gun back to position. This time preparing for the recoil. Breathing steadily, she set her sight on the target. Firing a shot, the bottle shattered and some of the alcoholic beverage sprayed everywhere. Lowering the gun, Sera rubbed her tender shoulder, cringing from the kickback.
She was getting better.
The sun's vivid hues streaked through grey clouds, lighting the dark brown remnants of the broken glass the colors combining in it and creating a deep orangish glow. Sera glared at it, insulted by its lethal beauty. The bottom remained intact and stood proud with sharp edges that could easily slice skin open. It reminded her too much of the man who had been avoiding her. The shattered bottle mocked her as the personification of him. With irritated eyes, Sera watched the liquid drip down the barrel, touching the sand beneath and soaking it.
It had been about a month of wedded bliss.
Sera snorted then glanced back at the house. The setting sun hit the wood planks in a bid farewell. Warming the house despite the brisk cold coming in, trying to warm the cold plates of food waiting for no one to eat.
Remington was around somewhere. He kept a close eye on her even at a distance. He never came in for dinner and chose to sleep outside as if he were her guard dog. Her eyes searched everywhere for him and marveled at how he was able to disappear then pop up out of nowhere. The rumors about him were a little true. Roman Remington knew these desert lands well. If he didn't want to be seen, he wouldn't.
At times she would lie awake at night, pondering what his life was like as a boy. How he came to learn so much about the desert and how to navigate it. Was it his father who had taught him the way of the land? His mother? Sister? Then she would dream of him whispering petite souris as his hands roamed her body and his kisses sent her into a blissful euphoria.
Staring at the remnants of broken shards littering the ground, Sera snatched another bottle of whiskey from the crate she had found in Remington's house. She stomped over, knocked the old one off with the bottle in her hand then placed the new one on the barrel.
This was her act of vengeance.
It was the only way she could think of getting him to react to her. To have those stunning coal eyes back on her person, bathing her in heated attention and making her feel... worthy, adored even.
Bringing up the shot gun, she aimed. Her finger squeezed the trigger, but that scarred x-marked hand grabbed the barrel of the gun. His grip tightened around it, dark skin with its callouses and cracks, stressing around the strong bones in his hand. "What do you think you're doing?"
Sera closed her eyes to savor the sound, to immerse herself in those few words that rolled off his tongue and thickened in his smooth accent. Her lids pop back open, her eyes back on the bottle that's peeking over the knuckles of his hand "You nurse a glass of whiskey every night, and I am a possessive little mouse, so I figured I'd eliminate whose attention you seek."
