Page 11

Nine

B riar woke up to the sound of a small explosion.

She lifted her groggy head from her pack.

Wick was sitting in the mouth of the cave they had sheltered in. The sun streamed in behind him, illuminating the damp rocks and a badly constructed campfire.

Wick held up a stick. There was a shattered egg tied to it, patches of shell and yolk dripping down into the fire and baking onto the burning wood.

“It did not cook as it should,” Wick said crossly.

Briar giggled. She sat up, surprised to find that most of her clothes had dried overnight. Her underclothes were still slightly damp, but otherwise she was warm and dry. Thanks to Wick’s protection, of course.

“You need to heat up a stone,” she explained. “And then crack the eggs onto the stone. Or, even more ideal, find a frypan.”

“Oh.” Wick stared down at the exploded egg. The string he’d tied around it was starting to burn, along with the stick. “That is not self-evident.”

“My fault,” Briar said, unable to hold back a grin. “I should have explained. Good thing we still have your fruit!”

She heaved her pack into her lap and pulled out the bag of awful, underripe apples he had picked for her yesterday. After growing up at an orphanage and on the streets, there wasn’t much that could turn her stomach.

Wick stood. He had to stoop, his horns and wingtips scraping the top of the cave. He stamped out the fire and turned to her.

“You will need more than that,” he said, nodding at the apple she was munching on.

Briar forced down a surge of warmth that had risen, unwelcome, in her traitorous chest. He still didn’t know much about mortals, but he was paying attention. Now he knew basic things, like that she needed more than fruit to tide her over.

She swallowed her underripe fruit. “How are your wings?”

Wick held them out gingerly, considering. His hesitation was enough.

Briar patted the ground in front of her. It was still damp, but barely.

“Come on,” she said. “I owe you a massage.”

Wick’s wings pulled in protectively. “You will… ‘knead’ my muscles?”

“It doesn’t hurt! I promise.” Briar flashed him a smile. He didn’t seem soothed, which was annoyingly typical of him. Briar had a fantastic track record of making men believe her just by shoving her attractiveness in their faces. But apparently, it didn’t work so well on Skullstalkers.

“It doesn’t hurt much ,” she amended through a mouthful of apple. She patted the ground again. “Come on! What harm can one itty bitty mortal do?”

This seemed to mollify him. He sat down in front of her, only turning around when she instructed.

Briar finished her apple and threw the core over her shoulder, considering his back. It was huge and solid, rippling with muscles and scars. His wings narrowed at the base before blending effortlessly with his pale skin.

Briar tried to look confident. Wick couldn’t see her, but holding herself confidently was almost as good as actually feeling confident. She was a good liar, even to herself.

“Spread your wings,” she said.

With a grunt, Wick did. The grunt was the only sign that he was in more pain than he’d let on. She had caught him wincing several times as they soared down to this cave, but he had denied it when she’d called him on it.

His wings scraped both sides of the cave. Briar didn’t pay them much mind. She only told him that because stretching had to be good after being stuck in a cramped cave all night. Skullstalker or mortal, muscles were muscles.

Briar started on his shoulders. She had to kneel up to reach the top of them, squeezing hard. Most of her massages were to seduce someone. But this was a real massage, and that called for force.

Wick grunted louder. “So, when you said knead ?—”

“I meant it.” Briar squeezed harder, feeling the muscles resist underneath her touch. They were tight, just like she thought. She moved down lower, feeling the pale skin around the base of his wings. The muscles were knotted, and Briar winced in sympathy.

Wick’s wings twitched.

“Stay,” she warned him.

Wick sat up straight, sitting so still she couldn’t see him breathe.

Briar kneaded his back harder, basking in having a man listen to her so thoroughly.

Especially a man like Wick, with his immense power.

His size . She had met many big, powerful men, but she hadn’t wanted any of them like Wick.

She’d never trusted them enough. But Wick…

Wick was ridiculously sweet. Shockingly gentle. And all too eager to please. A dangerous combination that made Briar want him to hold her down and do absolutely anything to her. Because, for once, she almost had faith that he would only do what she wished.

Wick made a surprised noise, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“No,” Wick said slowly. “Not… entirely. It is a strange sensation.”

Briar snickered. “Isn’t it? My first massage, I almost kicked Marigold in the face. Am I getting deep enough?”

She pushed her thumbs into his joints as hard as she could.

Wick flinched. Then he stopped, holding himself so still that Briar wanted to praise him. She held back on it, kneading harder into the stubborn knot of muscles.

Slowly, Wick’s rigid posture relaxed. “Oh.”

“That sounded like a good noise,” Briar said.

“It was,” Wick said thoughtfully. “I feel… looser.”

“That’s the idea.” Briar smiled to herself, moving over to the next knot around his wings.

Wick rumbled. His skin was warming slowly under her touch.

It took several minutes for Briar to realize he was leaning back into her, pressing back against her hands.

“Hey,” she said gently. “Sit up properly.”

Wick made a sleepy noise and straightened.

First massage , Briar reminded herself. It got her thinking about the other first times she’d given him—a fact that she still couldn’t believe.

Before her, he had never put that gorgeous cock in anything.

It was a waste. And it made it more surprising that he kept holding himself back when he was fucking her. Anyone else would have taken advantage.

She wondered if he had kissed anyone. If he’d gotten that far with any of those unfortunate creatures he’d attempted to fuck before the blood frenzy took over. She hoped so. It would be sad if he got given sex before a kiss.

Briar had come close to kissing him last night. Just for a moment, just when she had been gazing into his fiery eyes and feeling their warmth on her cheeks. She didn’t know how she could feel such fondness for black orbs filled with flames, but somehow Wick made it easy.

Wick slumped, his shoulders drooping.

“Feels good?” Briar asked gently.

Wick rumbled. His tail curled absentmindedly against Briar’s arm.

Affection surged through Briar’s chest as she watched his tail grip loosely around her wrist. Whether he meant to do this or not, it was deeply cute.

It made her think of how closely he held her at night, of how much he was leaning into her touch right now.

He obviously enjoyed the closeness. And he’d so obviously been starved for it.

A dozen impossible futures raced through Briar’s mind. She shoved them down and pushed harder against Wick’s lax back.

He’ll have all the chances in the world to find someone to cuddle with after he cures his blood frenzy, she reminded herself. Once they stop screaming, anyway.

Her kneading slowed until she was sitting there with her hands flat against his back. He was breathing slowly, peacefully. An ancient monster, utterly sweet and lovely under her touch.

She smoothed her hands over his back one last time. Then she leaned back, pulling up a smile.

“I think that will do the job,” she said with more softness than she would usually allow.

Wick hummed. But he didn’t move.

Briar leaned around him. Wick’s fiery eyes were closed, his head drooping toward his chest.

“Hey.” Briar pushed him gently. “Wakey-wakey, Mr. Skullstalker.”

Wick grunted. He listed sideways, leaning against the wall of the cave. Falling asleep, Briar realized.

Briar touched the tail that was curled around her wrist and thought about curling up beside him. Feeling those big arms close around her like she’d felt for several nights now. Letting him get closer than most men she slept with, especially any man since she’d been cursed.

But it was a slippery slope. Briar knew herself enough to know that she couldn’t let herself get too close. The longer this journey went on, the more danger she was in.

Briar pulled his tail from her arm and gave it a soft tug.

Wick’s head jerked up. He twisted to look back at her, blinking sleepily.

“Come on, big boy,” Briar said. “We need to get moving.”

Briar was right, the massage did help.

But only so much. Wick could fly a few hours at a time. Which still made for fast travel, but it cut Briar’s estimated travel time by several days.

“We’re reaching the edge of the forest,” Briar told him as they prepared for another night in a mossy clearing. “Mountains are coming up.”

“I can smell them in the air,” Wick said.

His voice was strange. Briar paused in the middle of stamping out their campfire and looked over.

Wick was standing in the middle of the clearing, staring up at the trees. His head was raised, like he really was smelling them.

Briar asked, “What do they smell like?”

Wick said nothing. His head raised further. A cool breeze rolled around the clearing, making Briar shiver.

“Snow, I would imagine,” she said, louder.

Wick startled. He looked back at her, blinking as if she had awoken him from a dream. “What? Yes. That’s… mostly right.”

Briar narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you acting strange?”

“I am not.” Wick frowned. He looked up again, even though the mountains weren’t visible from here. “I just haven’t smelled them in a long time.”

“Oh?” Briar dropped to her knees in the moss, wincing as the movement made her cunt throb—and not in a good way. Wick’s length was heavenly, but too many days of use had made it difficult to sit down.

“Why not?” Briar continued.