Page 12 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

“Of course he did,” I said on a breath. “I think the man forgets he has a place of his own.”

Mrs. Taylor chuckled, and I suppressed a smile. At least I knew my estate would be in good hands for the next month.

“Will that be all?” she asked.

“Except for me to order you to take care of yourself while I’m away,” I instructed. “No one else swims in that pool, so you may as well take advantage of it.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, although we both knew she wouldn’t. She kept to her own apartment in an outbuilding behind the estate and was content with her cat and her books.

She left, and I spent the next little while finishing some last-minute work before finally calling it a day.

On my way out, I paused at the painting that hung in the gallery outside my office, the representation of a recurring dream that had haunted me for its beauty and tantalizing desire long after I’d woken up. Always the same vision—sensual, erotic. I’d last had the dream a few months ago, and it had been even more breathtakingly intense than usual. I’d opened my eyes to a stiff cock and a tightness in my chest that had stayed lodged around my ribs for hours afterwards, along with a lingering craving for something I couldn’t begin to name. It was a siren’s call from the unknown, and I feared it would lure me to my death if I heeded it. But since I couldn’t ignore it, I’d painted it, and now it hung on the wall, taunting me with its ominous offer.

What drew my attention about the painting today was the shade of the woman’s hair. So similar to that of the mage I’d be trapped with for the next four weeks. There was a distinct possibility I’d have to give the painting a touch-up to remove any tainted associations once I returned home.

I sneered at the thought of the stuck-up advisor with her pride and naive belief that she could handle this mission on her own, indulged in a brief fantasy of the myriad accidents that might befall her on our journey, then set out to the inn. I wanted to make sure I was there before she arrived so I could get a fresh opinion of her before she alienated me more than she had. I was willing to consider the possibility that she’d been nervous or uncomfortable in my presence last night, which might have affected her behaviour. I’d tasted her agitation, her frustration, and her irritation throughout the course of our conversation, each emotion soaking through my pores with their bitterness and acidity. Though beneath all that, there had been a brief flash of desire, a sweetly spiced flavour that had made my mouth water. Just enough to intrigue me before it had disappeared again.

If there was more to this woman than all her buttons, I needed to know what I’d be dealing with. The route she’d laid out would be filled with dangers, and according to her king, my role would be to help us navigate them. That being the case, I needed to understand my burden.

The evening was hot and sultry, the summer sun bending to kiss the horizon but not yet making contact. The scent of roses and honeysuckle drifted across my front courtyard, and I drank it in as I walked to the centre of the open, gravel-strewn space. Then I pulled off my shirt, ensured my pack was well secured across my chest, and closed my eyes. Once I was sure I was well balanced, I shifted the muscles in my back to make space for the stretches of black feathers to extend from between my shoulder blades. The bone-snapping pain as my body adjusted to make room for them passed quickly, and with a puff of breath, I launched myself into the air.

My wings carried me with the breeze that barely cut through the humidity, and I stared at the bustling city below. Golth was the nation’s capital, far from its busiest city but among its wealthiest, which was why I’d chosen it for my new life. I might have been rejected by my father and my people, but I was still a demon. Power and riches called to me, the heart of all temptation. Even now, when more than half the population should have been working, delicious emotions rolled over me, fuelling my blood, feeding my soul. Lust, rage, grief, joy. The first tasted especially good, and I resisted the urge to fly a few laps above the various sources to drink it in. I doubted I’d get to experience that particular bouquet on this adventure, but the lack would make it all the sweeter on my return.

The sun was warm on my bare back, and I relished the flex of muscles I wasn’t likely to use for the next few weeks. I kept to the edge of the clouds, drifting within or just below them as I flew farther from the dark windows and clay-tiled rooftops, the smoking chimneys and foaming river, and over the dense forest that wrapped around the city.

From here, I could make out well beyond the city limits to the towns that lay beyond the capital towards the border with Fresa to the west. To the east lay Soldara, the fae country currently stirring up so much tension. To the north, the Never Sea stretched the length of Golthwaine’s coast, ending in Blue Harbour to the northeast, close to the nearest point between Golthwaine and Karhasan. My home so close yet still an uncrossable distance away.

This evening, I followed the forest southeast, curling around the inner treeline where the road flowed out of the urban centre and well into the rural landscape. Based on the mage’s notes, the first two signposts were within a day’s walk of this area, so the inn huddled near the crossroads would make for a convenient starting point if we set out first thing tomorrow. It also served a stew that stuck to my ribs, and there was no better way to begin a new adventure than with a full stomach.

I landed well out of view of any windows and doors and drew in my wings, shifting my muscles so all sign of my feathers disappeared. My red eyes might immediately reveal the truth of my nature to anyone who noticed them, but I’d learned soon after arriving in Golthwaine that not much was known about my kind, and in case social opinion about demons ever changed, I preferred to keep a few of my secrets to myself.

I pulled my shirt out of my pack and tugged the cream-hued cotton over my head, grabbed my pack by the strap, and stepped into the inn’s quiet common room. At this hour of the day, a bit too early for dinner but too late for lunch, the guests were scarce, but that didn’t prevent the room from being filled with the scents of cooking meat and savoury spices. My stomach rumbled in anticipation, and I claimed a table in the far back corner where I could watch the door without being immediately spotted by whoever came in.

The serving girl noticed me when she left the kitchen and turned around and went back in, not returning until she’d loaded a tray with a heaping bowl of mutton stew, a hunk of crusty rye bread, and a glass of brandy. She dropped it off with a wink.

“Off again, sir?”

“Never in one place for long, Lana. You know that.” I gave her a bright smile, the one I was certain would evoke that faint sip of lust I’d grown accustomed to from this one.

She batted her eyelashes, but before she made any further conversation, I nodded to let her know I had everything I needed. She walked away with a dejected slump in her shoulders. The bitterness of her disappointment detracted from the zing of her desire, and not for the first time, I told myself I needed to stop tempting her. I never came out ahead. The girl was pretty enough with her large eyes and the beguiling sway of her hips, but she was human and therefore not anyone I was inclined to bed.

Ten years in this country, and despite my reputation, that was one vice I had long stopped giving in to. The consequences, emotionally and physically, were too complicated. Even if by some chance I did meet a human who interested me enough to want to spend time with them after sex, there were too many obstacles to make me compatible. My more demonic traits tended to scare people off, so there was always the strain of holding back, limiting my satisfaction in every encounter. I’d learned to settle for charming them instead of seducing them, to enjoy the fleeting taste of their desire and the second-hand lust of couples who were lucky enough to indulge in their urges.

Most demons probably wouldn’t have cared about scaring them, but I’d clearly been among these people too long. They’d corrupted me with their empathy and consideration of others. Yet another reason I was eager to end my exile and go home.

With a faint sigh of frustrated need and a passing thought to that painting in my gallery, to the yearning it awoke in me for some great unknown, I downed the brandy—a pre-adventure tradition I never neglected—and tucked into the stew while I waited for the doors to open. Although we wouldn’t leave until tomorrow, as soon as the mage walked in, my journey would begin.

I took another drink to brace myself.

Glory

VII

I’d left my apartment with the rising sun, but since I’d opted to go on foot, not wanting to deal with finding a carriage for hire during the morning rush, it was late afternoon by the time I reached the edge of the woods and the road that would take me to The Wandering Mare.

I appreciated the demon’s decision to begin our journey at the inn. There were no signposts to find within Golth itself, so there was no purpose in spending more time together than absolutely necessary. We would meet close to the first landmark and go from there.

I looked up at the location of the sun and scowled. I’d hoped to arrive at least an hour ago, giving us an opportunity to begin our trek tonight, but with every passing minute, that became less likely.