Page 83 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

Cammon’s shoulders heaved as he worked to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his face, and his damp hair clung to his forehead. Even dead, the drake threw off heat. Where it lay, I could see the shimmering waves shifting the view around it.

Or was that me shaking?

I stumbled backwards until I hit the wall and focused on steadying my own breath.

Cammon shoved the drake’s wing off his legs and hauled himself off the floor, all evidence of his demonic nature gone. “You all right?”

“Peachy, thanks to you.” The foul taste of the drake’s blood oozed over my tongue, and I spat it onto the floor. Of course the first blood offering I came across would be disgusting.

“What did I do except keep it distracted?” he asked. “We’d both be roasted if not for you. That was some quick manoeuvring, mage.”

My pride swelled at the praise. “Surprised?”

“By you? Endlessly.”

He met my eye, and something inside me tweaked—one piece snapping into place while another fractured—and I knew that whatever had changed between us, there was no going back.

My breath caught, but I forced it through the tightness in my lungs. All these emotional maelstroms would be the death of me before the end. I wrestled my reason into place and shoved sentiment to the side. “You ready to keep going?”

He ran his crimson gaze over me. “You sure you want to step into the sun like that?”

I looked down at myself and groaned at the state of me, more gore than leather. The stench made my stomach churn. “Unless you have a bath hidden in your pack, I guess I have to. I’m not about to ruin a clean pair of clothes to save myself from the judgement of trees. Let’s go. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll find a river before this mess dries and I need to remove a few layers of skin as well as these absurd leathers. What kind of lives do fury vampires lead if this is what they consider clothing?”

We continued down the tunnel, and Cammon stayed just ahead—as if he thought I wouldn’t notice. We were both braced for more drakes to show up, but for now there was silence… until there came the unmistakable sound of wind whistling through leaf-laden branches.

We picked up our pace. The temperature grew cooler, cooler, almost cold compared to the stagnant heat of the tunnel, and the light changed, getting brighter, adding more definition to the rock faces on either side of us, above us, below us. Now I was able to make out the scratch marks of dozens of drake claws cutting through stone. Gouges where large, scaled bodies must have attempted to widen the path. For what purpose? To allow something larger through? It didn’t look like they’d succeeded, and for that the gods earned all my gratitude.

The end of the tunnel came into view, and I nearly collapsed with relief—and not a small amount of reluctance. While I’d done my best to rush through the darkness so we could pick up our quest, I wouldn’t have minded one last night with Cammon before reality caught up with us.

Even so, I gave us no chance to slow down. With the way I’d allowed myself to relax and enjoy myself these past few nights, if I were to give in to my current urges, there was a good possibility we’d never leave this mountain. We’d starve to death wrapped in each other’s arms, Brynna would die, Golthwaine would go to war, and Ashara would never forgive me for leaving her behind. Not without telling her the details first.

Also, I was disgusting and covered in drake gore, which was more than enough to crush any iota of arousal.

I stepped towards the mouth of the cave, paused on the threshold next to Cammon, and peered out over what awaited us.

Where we emerged looked so similar to where we’d entered the mountain that a tiny part of me worried we’d gotten turned around and wound up back where we’d started. But the longer I looked, the more I noticed significant differences in the landscape. We stood on the edge of a forest, but the mountain looked black and smooth, as though the rock had melted, and the trees were firs instead of birches, towering beasts with trunks as wide as Cammon three times over. The fans of needles were thick enough that they blocked out the sun, giving me no sense of what time of day it was.

Although we spotted no other drakes, the barely visible trail that led away from the mountain into the woods was scattered with bones, both small and large. I eyed the scene warily, not trusting the silence that closed in around us.

Cammon frowned and his jaw flexed, obviously no more comfortable with the scene than I was.

“Should we wait for nightfall?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

I hoped Cammon didn’t think I was asking because of my earlier desire to spend one last night together. The longer I stayed drenched in this foul blood, the more I smelled it.

Cammon flashed a smile at me, no doubt fully aware of where my thoughts had gone, but it disappeared quickly when he returned his attention to the path. “Draconic species don’t keep to the cycle of the sun. They eat when they’re hungry. If it’s quiet now, I say we take our chances. As long as the dragons stay put on their mountain, we might be all right.”

That didn’t make me feel any more confident about our next move. If stepping out of this cave was such a concern, how were we going to access the next signpost?

“Have I cursed Tersey recently?” I asked. “Because I feel he deserves a good cursing.”

“When we make it back to the city, we’ll set something of his on fire as retribution.”

“His journal would be a good start.”

Even joking about it made my conscience twinge, but I was too furious with the mage to suffer any guilt over imagining such satisfying destruction.

Cammon held out his hand, and I slipped my fingers through his without hesitation. His palm was warm against mine, mine slick with blood against his, but he showed no sign of disgust at the filth dividing us.