Breaking Her (Love is War #2) (50 page)

"Your weapons' stash doesn't play well with others," Caleb told me idly, stepping into the small space.
 

Perhaps my mind had been shying away from it.
 
Perhaps I was very very good at denial.
 
Perhaps it was the dragon-trance that made my mind forgot the little things, like, oh, say a blood drinking war-axe that liked to get into my head, aggravating my already unhealthy blood-lust to a fever-pitch within a small amount of time, chanting kill, kill, kill until I fed it the blood that it craved.
 

Whatever it was that had made me very conveniently forgot about the pain in the ass that was Torst, Caleb's words quickly made me remember.
     

Right on the tail of that thought was another.
 
If Caleb had recovered Torst for me, the damned axe would be in my head by now.
 
But he wasn't.
 
Did that mean that Caleb
hadn't
recovered the cursed thing?
 

That possibility was almost worse than the thought that he had.
 
If he hadn't recovered Torst, that meant that it was either lost in the desert, which was bad, bad, bad.
 
Or else it meant that my deranged relatives had ahold of it, which was worse, worse, worse.
 

Caleb relieved my mind (kind of) when he opened the silver chest.