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“Great,” she said chirpily. “To friendship, big boy.”

She tore off a steaming piece of rabbit and held it out. He sniffed it, bemused.

“Come on,” she goaded.

“It smells strange.”

“That’s because it’s cooked.” She held it out further.

Wick ate it off her fingers. Briar held still, forcing herself not to shiver as that big, pink tongue licked rabbit fat off her palm.

“Hmmm.” He sat back, flames twisting thoughtfully in his huge eyes. “It is… fine.”

Briar couldn’t help it: she laughed. Truly laughed, nothing fake about it. She tried to rein it in, as always. But he had heard much of her genuine laughter, even if most of it was hysterical.

She could allow true parts of herself to seep through with him. It wasn’t like they would stick together after their journey finished. Even if he did get his heart’s desire and live peacefully next to a waterfall, she would be too busy to visit him. Striving for the next heist, the next town, the next haul that would finally set her for life—not that any of them ever did. She was closer to forty than thirty now, and she was as broke and alone as ever.

Shedidwant peace. But she doubted she’d ever get it. Void, the Skullstalker probably had a better chance at it than she did.

“Briar.”

Briar blinked. Her name sounded odd in his mouth. She couldn’t work out why. Probably the fangs.

“You smell sad,” he continued.

Briar almost squished the freshly cooked rabbit. She let go of it fast, blowing on her overheated hands. Right, he couldsmellher emotions. She just had to keep a handle on them, make sure they didn’t get too strong. Luckily, she had a lifetime of practice.

“I’m just worried,” she said, which was not untrue. “I know I don’t have to worry about the curse while you’re here. But I don’t know what I’ll do if we get separated and I’m alone in the woods.”

“We will not get separated,” Wick said dismissively. He licked a stray shred of rabbit from his claws, and Briar’s gaze fell once more to the pink length.

“There is nothing powerful enough to keep me from you,” he continued, still licking. That long tongue curled around his entire wrist, sliding over a slick trail of rabbit fat.

Briar’s breath caught in her chest. His tongue and his stupidly sweet words were making her clit throb. Since when was she attracted to that? His monstrous tongue should make her shudder, and not in anticipation. His words should make her laugh, as many men have made her laugh as they attempted to seduce her.

And yet, there was something enticing about it. His monstrous form combined with such softness. The knowledge that he had all that power and ferocity, and he didn’t want to turn it on her.

She folded her legs tighter. Could he smell the wetness between her legs?

Wick’s tongue slowed and stilled. His fiery eyes locked on her, and Briar cursed silently.

“Oh,” Wick said. “Is it time?”

Six

Wick lay her down in the dirt and wished for fur.

It seemed… incorrect for her to be bare against the forest floor. Why, he didn’t know. When he voiced this, Briar smiled at him so brightly that the crisp scent of her amusement burned through her stress.

“I should only lie in the finest silks,” she said. “Thank you for noticing. Now, do get on with it.”

She spread her legs wider, exposing that thick patch of hair between her legs. Her folds glistened, and Wick’s mouth watered in response.

He lowered his head and licked a stripe up her thigh. She shuddered underneath him, her head tipping back.

“We can take our time,” she told him. “We have ages.”

It would probably be for the best. He genuinely needed to give his wings a rest. Wick had not realized how little he flew until he did it for a long stretch. Briar did not weigh much, but he was feeling her additional weight after that flight, his wings aching where they were folded against his back.