'This girl,' Marcus thought with a fond smile, 'calling my name for no reason and slowing down my grinding.'
He looked down at Anya, who was curled comfortably in his arms like a small kitten. Her bright eyes were filled with pride and happiness as she gazed up at him, openly admiring him without the slightest attempt to hide it. The expression was so pure and delighted that Marcus couldn't help lowering his sword and gently pinching her delicate porcelain nose.
They say the arms of a beautiful woman are the tomb of a hero.
Apparently, the saying had some truth to it.
Distracted for only a brief moment by the beauty in his embrace, Marcus had already fallen behind the rhythm of battle. His pets surged forward ahead of him, leaving him without the slightest opportunity to show off.
