44. The Skinning Shed

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Author's Note: There's no getting around it...Cernunnos has weird turn-ons.

Song for this chapter: My Blood by 21 Pilots

Dru slashed down hard with the knife. Blood spurted all over her tank top, her neck, her face, and she cursed.

The deep chuckle behind her ignited an immediate irritation in her. She turned to see Hearne leaning in the doorway of his skinning hut, looking completely healthy and very amused.

"Dru, why are there chickens running all over my camp? And why the hell are you mutilating that one? What kind of spell are you working?"

"This is not a spell. This is dinner, asshole," Dru spat as she watched the blood draining from the chicken that was hung upside down over the blood drain

"Asshole? What did I do?" he asked warily as she advanced on Hearne with the knife.

"You didn't call. You didn't text."

He looked relieved. "Is that all?"

"I left you in a sick-bed yesterday morning, and then Lana tells me you disappeared into the forest. And it's been eighteen hours since I've heard from you. Where the fuck have you been, Cernunnos?" She pointed the knife point at him. "Tell me!"

He licked his lips and blinked lazily.

"You sure you wanna come at me like that?"

And before Dru could answer, Hearne had stripped her of the knife, twisted her arm behind her back, and pulled her backwards against him, into his chest. His other hand splayed against the cleavage exposed above her tanktop, smearing the droplets of chicken blood into the skin of her throat.

"Stag, Dru, you really do surprise me sometimes," He breathed heavily. "You are so godsdamn sexy like this. I want you, now. Right here, okay?"

"Let me go, Hearne."

"How about I bend you over that table, and you tell me exactly how you caught that chicken, while we do it," he suggested.

"You'll let me go now, and you'll tell why you didn't have the courtesy to text me, and then you'll tell me where you've been. And then I'll tell you about the chicken," she added, as an afterthought.

"You forgot the part where I sex you on the skinning table," he said helpfully.

"No, I didn't," she countered darkly.

He laughed, but he let her go. He didn't rush to account for his whereabouts, though. He walked over and inspected the large pot of boiling water on a propane burner and the brand new plucking machine that lined the back of the shed.

"When I gave you a credit card and told you to make this your home, I thought you would buy pillows and candles, not a flock of chickens and an industrial plucker."

"I'm tired of eating squirrel," she countered.

"Fair enough." His eyes were still raking her up and down, admiring the sweat and blood. Then he gestured to the dead, upside down chicken. "Is this Druantia knowledge or did you forget to tell me that you grew up on a farm? Either way, it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen you do."

She ignored his flirtation. "Where have you been?"

He sighed. "You're serious? You want to know everywhere I've been in the last day and half? In the forest. Then I saw Carrie. Then I was back at camp. Then I went to Malone's for a quick drink. Then to a Board meeting. Then back to Malone's for a drink with Board President. Then ranging all over my land most of the early morning and today, pulling my snares." He gestured to a brace of rabbits and a string of squirrels he'd dumped inside the door. "Why are you so angry, baby? You were perfectly safe. I was keeping an eye on you with my god's eye. I saw you catch the chicken, actually," he confessed, with a wicked smile. "It's why I hurried back."

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