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Pen cleared his throat. “I-I think we should get out of here, boss. Right, Earn?”

Earnest said nothing. He was looking at Briar with the same confusion as before, scratching his head like he was still trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Vern spat on the mossy ground. “You shit on everything natural and good. I hope you’re happy with your—your husband of nightmares!”

In terms of insults, it was nothing Wick was not used to. But Briar let out a snarl of her own, her hand flexing on her undone belt like she was going to pull out her dagger.

“Oh yeah?” she called after Vern as he stormed off, the other two men trailing behind him. “Well, fuck you! He’s better than any mortal I’ve ever met!”

Wick blinked. Nobody had ever said anything so kind about him.

Briar sighed, turning back to him and running a hand through her sweaty hair, picking out bark. “That wasnota good comeback. Why didn’t you stop me?”

Wick did not respond. A strange feeling was swelling within him, a quiet pleasure that had last occurred when he was watching a waterfall several decades ago.

Briar’s hand slowed in her hair, pinching a shred of bark. “What?”

“Do you mean that?” Wick asked. “That I am…”

He trailed off. Saying it suddenly felt too vulnerable.

Briar dropped her gaze. She flicked the bark from her hair and laughed, nervousness wafting off her in waves.

“Sure,” she said lightly. “You’re, you know… you’re a good man. Even if you are a monster.”

Wick tried to hide his disappointment. Somehow, he had hoped for more.

“I mean to say…” Briar rolled her eyes. “You’re sweet, alright? And thoughtful. And all sorts of other things that most people aren’t. Nobody’s protected me like you. Nobody looks out for me like you do.”

She fell silent, biting her lip. She almost looked like she regretted saying it, even as she pulled up a weak smile. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Only if it was true.”

Her smile wilted. She was obviously trying to drag it back up, but all her efforts failed. It made Wick feel conflicted. He wanted her to smile, of course, but not if she was using them as a shield to hide behind.

“It was,” she admitted. “I wish it wasn’t, but it was.”

Wick frowned. “You… wish I treated you badly?”

“No,” Briar scoffed, her eyes roving anywhere but him. “I just— I wish?—”

She stammered to a stop. She was still shiny with sweat, smelling of desire and stress and his own come. Her shirt was half-laced, her breasts heaving as she panted.

“You wish,” Wick prompted.

Briar’s lips twitched bitterly. She shook her head and leaned up to touch his chest, her eyes falling half-lidded.

“I wish you would put your tongue inside me,” she said huskily. “I didn’t get to finish.”

Wick knew he should have dropped to his knees and hoisted her legs over his shoulders. But he stayed there, spellbound as he watched her pink mouth go slack.

“Which hole?” Wick asked.

Briar shivered. “My… my cunt.”

Wick nodded. But he couldn’t tear his gaze from her lips. Her breathing was strange, almost erratic, as she stared up at him.

Wick thought of the mortals he’d seen kissing from a distance. Some of those kisses were quick and transactional, others were so deep and fond that they filled him with a longing he didn’t fully understand.