Sabina's fingers curled around my wrist, sharp as a cat digging for a fight. She yanked me so hard, I just about face-planted into that crooked old oak at the clearing's edge.
Bark scraped my palms when she spun me, nearly launching me at the trunk. Then—bam—her hand smacked between my shoulder blades, real subtle.
"Go on, then," she spat—honestly, her voice could sand paint right off a door. "Piss. Or what, you gonna stand there dangling your cock forever, healer?"
I shot a look over my shoulder at her—somewhere in her thirties, I guess, could've been older, didn't really matter. Her body? Damn near identical to Kerry's: wiry, tough as nails, muscles you earn by actually living hard, not just hitting the gym for show.
