Page 13

Ten

W ick’s first reaction was deep, unstoppable dread.

I am going to kill them , he thought, horror creeping in around the blinding lust. They will attack, and I will kill them all, and then Briar ?—

The thought came to an abrupt halt as his arm brushed the necklace around Briar’s neck. It had activated during their mating, as it always did. Keeping the blood frenzy away.

The relief was short-lived. The mortals were coming closer.

“Shit,” Briar whispered.

Wick grunted in agreement and stood. Briar’s breath hitched, her hands tightening around his arms as he shifted inside her.

Wick carried her behind a wide tree trunk and pressed her against it, hiding her from the clearing. If they were quiet enough, surely the mortals would walk by without incident.

There were three men. He could smell them, stinking of dirt and sweat and fresh pig meat. They were coming back from a hunt.

“Over here,” the first one called, old and croaky.

Briar’s cheek twisted against the bark to look at him.

“Keep going,” she whispered. “Just be quiet.”

Her hole spasmed around him, and Wick held back a groan.

A small part of Wick warned him that this was a bad idea. The men were almost on them. But Briar’s hips were working, trying to get him deeper. He’d almost fit his last ridge inside her. They were so close .

“Come on,” Briar whispered pleadingly. “I need it.”

Wick held back a growl and resumed his thrusts. He kept them soft and shallow, not daring to jolt her against the rough bark. He didn’t even try to push his last ridge inside her, even though he could hear her biting back a whimper every time it brushed her entrance.

The three men emerged into the clearing. Two of them were holding crossbows, the third was clutching a dagger nervously, a dead pig hanging over his shoulder.

“Fire’s not long gone,” said the first man, kicking at the ash heap that was once their campfire. “Camp’s still set up. Can’t see any struggle.”

“I didn’t hear shit,” said the man in the middle. He turned to the pig man. “Sure you heard something, Pen?”

“I swear it was this way,” said Pen, shoving the pig’s snout out of the way of his dagger. “You heard it, right, Vern?”

Vern grunted. He was in front, an old scar closing one eye permanently. The other eye roved the clearing, not faltering on where Wick was mating Briar quietly behind a tree.

“Heard somethin’,” said Vern quietly. “‘Cept if it’s what I think I heard, we’d already be dead.”

If Wick weren’t so focused on mating quietly, he would have been annoyed. He wished his siblings in the mortal realm weren’t so bloodthirsty. They gave Skullstalkers a bad name.

Briar let out a tiny gasp.

Wick covered her mouth again. Briar’s eyelids fluttered, her hole squeezing around him so tightly that Wick let out his own noise, rough and guttural.

The men in the clearing froze. Vern clicked something in his crossbow, eyes scanning the clearing warily.

“Earnest,” he said to the second man. “You hear it now?”

“Sure do, boss,” Earnest whispered, clutching his crossbow tightly. “Sure it sounds Skull-like?”

“I know animals,” Vern said. “That ain’t animal. That’s a monster.”

Wick gritted his fangs and thrust faster. For some reason, the idea that they would get caught made him harder. His cock swelled inside Briar, a telltale sign that he was about to come.

Briar panted under his hand. Lust rolled off her in waves, so hot and tantalizing that Wick’s mouth watered.

He squeezed his eyes shut, thrusting as fast as he dared.

“Can’t tell where it came from,” came Pen’s nervous voice as Wick’s hips started to stutter. “What do we do, Vern?”

Vern said something. Wick didn’t hear it. His orgasm flooded through his body as powerfully as any frenzy, and he pinned Briar into the bark as he filled her. Waves of pleasure unlike any he’d ever known before Briar rolled through him, so intense his legs threatened to give out.

Wick dug his claws into the tree and bit down hard on his tongue. It didn’t help. A growl ripped out of his throat, low and unmistakable. Briar whined underneath it, the sound so delicious that Wick pulsed once more, feeling it drip out of her hole and down his balls.

The clearing went silent.

Wick held his breath. Briar’s hot breath dragged against his palm, her bright eyes pinned on him as they waited.

Vern burst through the trees, his crossbow raised. His hard expression dropped into disgust as he took in the sight in front of him.

“Void take me,” he snarled. “Unhand her, monster!”

“Okay, let’s wait one moment—” Briar’s breathy reply cut off with a yelp as the crossbow let fly.

Wick grabbed it out of the air and crushed it in his hand. It would have hit his chest, he realized. That was good. As long as they didn’t hurt Briar.

He slipped out of her, ignoring her gasp as he placed her back on the ground.

“If everyone could wait ,” Briar said, louder.

But horrified gasps were coming up behind them. Wick turned to see Earnest, his face twisted in shock and his crossbow raised. Pen stood behind him, gaping, his arms going so slack the pig dropped out of them.

The dead pig hit the floor. Earnest fumbled with his crossbow, another arrow letting fly.

Wick caught it and roared. The amulet was glowing again, smudged with sweat where it hung between Briar’s breasts. It was the only thing keeping Wick from tearing into all these men without mercy. He could feel the blood frenzy bubbling up inside his skull like a wildfire.

“You horrid beast ,” Vern spat, reloading his crossbow. “Fear not, maiden! We will save you!”

“Oh, come on ,” Briar complained.

Wick leapt back into the clearing. There were too many weapons, and he didn’t want one of them to get careless and strike Briar by accident.

His loincloth was in a pile next to the ashy campfire, but he ignored it as he turned to face the three men, two of whom were running at him with crossbows and one of whom was standing back and looking like he might be sick.

“Flank him,” Vern barked. “Get ‘im, Earn!”

“I got him, I got him,” Earnest croaked, his hands shaking as he pointed his reloaded crossbow at Wick’s head.

Arrows flew. Wick caught one. The other one flashed past his arm, dragging a divot of flesh out with it.

Wick snarled reflexively. “Stop! I mean you no harm!”

Behind them, Pen made a noise of confusion that reminded Wick very much of how Briar had reacted when he had spoken to her for the first time. Obviously, the stories they heard of Skullstalkers did not include much talking, much less asking for peace.

“Get ‘im,” Vern yelled again, sweat beading on his forehead as he reloaded.

Wick prepared for another onslaught.

Briar ran out of the trees, waving her arms.

“OI,” she yelled. “CUT THAT OUT!”

Everybody stopped. Briar walked in front of Wick and stood, naked and glistening, her arms raised defensively.

Vern was the first to recover. He raised his crossbow, pointing it at Wick’s head. “Young maiden, move.”

“ You move,” Briar replied. “You’re ruining my night.”

The men traded a confused look. The pig that Pen had been trying to pick up slipped through his grip yet again, slapping to the mossy ground.

“But,” Earnest tried. “But he was ravishing you.”

“He was!” Briar smiled brightly. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like for him to get back to it. So if you wouldn’t mind getting out of my sight, I’d appreciate it.”

With that, she bent down to snag her shirt from the ground.

“But,” Earnest said again. He turned to Vern, looking lost.

“What sort of unnatural woman are you?” Verne asked, horrified. “You bedded a Skullstalker ?”

“Well, no mortal could satisfy me.” Briar gave him another sunny smile as she wriggled into her pants. “You can leave now. Feel free to leave the pig, I’m getting hungry.”

Pen looked expectantly at Vern, his arms loosening like he was actually thinking about leaving the pig. Then he noticed Vern’s disgusted expression and grabbed it tightly again.

Vern’s nostrils flared. “Void take you,” he snapped. “If you don’t know what’s good for ya, we’ll sort you out. You’re comin’ with us.”

He took a step toward Briar.

Wick growled. He stepped in front of Briar, his wings flaring out warningly.

“Just try it,” he snarled.

Briar’s grin turned threatening as she watched Vern. Wick had never seen a smile do that before. It was intriguing.

“And how are you going to take me?” she asked, her calm hiding bloodshed behind it. “Three mortals against a Skullstalker and his pissed off woman. You might as well place your heads in his mouth.”

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 was not a 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.

Until now.

Wick leaned in.

Briar gasped. “Wait!”

Wick stopped. “What is it?”

Briar shook her head. Her head tilted, listening hard. “Do you hear that? If I can hear it, you must.”

Wick concentrated. Distant birdsong, leaves on the cooling breeze, and behind it all, growing louder the more he listened:

“A waterfall,” he said, surprised.

Briar’s face lit up. “We’re here!”

Wick frowned. “What do you mean?”

A cheery greeting drifted down from the trees. “Hello there!”

Wick dragged a wing in front of Briar automatically, only stopping when he looked up and saw the friendly smile on their intruder’s face.

A woman around Briar’s age stood on a high branch, spinning a staff energetically in one hand. Her hair was a tight black puff around her head, and she smelled of strange herbs and animal blood.

“Briar,” said the stranger with an excited wave. “Good to see you! Why are you propositioning a naked Skullstalker?”