Page 29 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

I glanced at her to watch her lean back on her hands to look at the stars that were only just peeking through the dusk. After craning her neck in one direction, then another, she pointed to a cluster. “There he is. Olodin with his book. The protector of scholars. The demigod who strove to create the most comprehensive library the gods had ever seen—until his wife, Cloya, grew jealous of all the time he spent with his books and burned the entire collection. The knowledge of the gods. The answers to every one of life’s mysteries.”

A low laugh rumbled from her chest, and the sound made my cock twitch. I ordered it to settle down and refocused on the tent.

“For the best, probably,” she continued. “I can’t think of a single person who could handle such knowledge without corrupting themselves and using it for their own purposes.”

I raised an eyebrow before setting to work on the next tent rod. Seriously, how the hell did this thing go up? I was about to toss the entire contraption into the woods and drape Glory’s blanket over a tree branch. “You don’t think very much of your fellow humans, do you?”

I tasted her discomfort again—a flash of embarrassment and… fear? Interesting. I shot her a closer look, but she’d returned her gaze to the stars, and the angle of her face kept her expression draped in shadow.

“I think humans can do incredible things. I watch my fellow mages work wondrous magic and make such a positive difference to this country. But I also believe it’s in our nature to crush everything we view as different, because different means dangerous. It’s in our nature to hoard, to create divides and salvage everything for the us, leaving them to fend for themselves. Maybe it’s a pessimistic view, but I spend a lot of time researching the past. There are only so many times you can read about similar events without noticing the patterns.”

I wrestled the final tent rod into place—realizing as I did that I’d missed a piece and hoping she wouldn’t notice—then returned to my bedroll and dropped onto it. “I’d love to disagree with you, but my personal history supports your belief.”

She looked my way and tilted her head as though to see me better. The fire caught her brown hair and added a golden sparkle to the loose tendrils. “There is one benefit of having such a low bar about people.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“It’s always a nice surprise when someone goes out of their way to prove you wrong.” She nodded her chin towards the tent. “Thank you.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, careful not to scratch. “No problem. It’s the least I can do to make up for—”

A menacing roar cut me off before a massive grizzly bear charged out of the woods.

I barely had time to stand before the beast shifted into human form, grabbed Glory by the throat, and pinned her to a tree. I hadn’t smelled him coming, hadn’t tasted his emotions in his animal form. Rage sparked within me and ran through my veins, filling my muscles and sharpening my senses.

The large hand around Glory’s neck flexed as he squeezed, while the man’s free hand grabbed both her wrists, preventing her from fighting him off. Red and black crept around the edges of my vision, and pain lanced through my forehead as the points of my horns sliced through skin, my transformation into my demonic form immediate and instinctive at the sight of the mage’s distress. Even as my skin thickened and my nails extended into talons, I wondered how Glory would respond. Would her panic push her to use her magic, levelling everything in this clearing?

Part of me hoped she would. This fucker deserved whatever he got. He’d made a mistake coming after us.

And an even greater mistake targeting my charge.

Glory

XV

A growl sounded from behind the shifter, and the bear-man wrenched me around to put me between him and Cammon—the sight of whom would have stolen my breath if I’d had any breath left.

The demon prince stood with his shoulders hunched and his hands curled, claw-like, at his sides, making the muscles beneath his shirt pop. Horns, black and ribbed, stretched from his brow and curled backwards before curving up, and his eyes—his usually crimson eyes—were black as voids, swirling with intensity and the promise of violence.

He snarled, revealing rows of pointed teeth, and my heart stopped and started again at an even more frantic pace. Now that my initial shock had worn off, practicality shouted to be heard from beneath my terror. We had no idea why this shifter had attacked. If Cammon tore him apart, we would lose any opportunity to find out and might waste more time with more surprise visits.

I gurgled around the shifter’s hold to try to tell Cammon to stand down, but I couldn’t suck in enough air for a single sound to escape me.

My thoughts raced with ideas of how to get free, and my vampiric senses stepped in to assess my surroundings. Cammon’s gaze was focused on the man behind me, and the shifter was stiff, braced for the demon to attack. One of his arms had banded around my middle, strong as steel, while the other hand was still wrapped around my throat. His hot breath fanned against my neck, and my stomach turned.

By the tension in his body and the angle of his head, I sensed he was focused entirely on Cammon, and with Cammon’s attention solely on the shifter, I was more or less forgotten by both men. Which gave me an opportunity.

Unable to take a deep breath to steel my nerves, I settled for wrestling my courage into submission and took advantage of my temporary invisibility. Bit by bit, I dropped my guard and allowed my vampiric strength to fill my muscles. The unfamiliar energy surged through me, sharpening my senses and leaving me hyper-aware of every twitch and flicker in my assailant’s hand. Bells rang in my head, warning that I was taking too great a risk, but I ignored them. I had to move quickly, before either man noticed. Putting my faith in my unpractised instincts, I grabbed hold of the arm near my throat and shifted my weight. The bear-man hadn’t anticipated my response, and as stiff as he was, he couldn’t prevent me from flipping him onto his back. His breath came out in a whoosh, and before he had time to draw in another, I’d pulled the small knife I used to sharpen my quill from my skirt pocket and pressed the blade against his neck.

The shifter’s eyes were wide, and my heightened senses picked up Cammon’s stillness behind me, the stutter of his heartbeat, the catch of his breath.

“What do you want?” I demanded before either man rallied.

The shifter snarled. “For you to get out of our territory. You’re dragging trouble behind you, and we don’t want to deal with your shit.”

“What kind of trouble? So far we’ve done nothing but walk.” And open a giant, spiky hole in a random glade, but I suspected that detail might hurt our cause so remained silent.

“Mutts.” The shifter spat. “A pack of ’em was sighted creeping along our border.”