Page 25

And she did like the inevitable pain that came with fucking a Skullstalker—the impossible stretching, the pressure, fangs nicking her lip and claws pressing into her skin.

But more than that, she liked that he wanted to make sure she liked it.

Call her a soft touch, but she enjoyed it when men preferred not to hurt her, even if she wanted them to.

“Like when I bite your lip,” she explained. “It’s painful, but it’s nice. As long as it’s something you want, it’s good.”

Wick grunted. His tail wrapped around her leg distractedly. “You will tell me if it is too much?”

“I always do,” Briar soothed.

Wick nodded and shifted carefully onto his side, keeping her tucked against him. “Sleep well, my sweet thief.”

The nickname made something dangerously soft curl in her chest.

“Back at you, big boy,” she whispered.

She pulled the fur robe tighter around her, wishing she could feel Wick’s arms more. But he was cold, and they were on a mountain, which meant she was stuck tucking something warm between them while she slept.

Wick shifted and grunted in pain.

Briar was suddenly wide awake. “What is it? Let me see.”

“I am fine,” he insisted. “Sleep.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me what it is, and I’ll sleep.”

Wick sighed, a sound she was sure he had picked up from her. “It is nothing. I simply put pressure on my wings.”

Wing , Briar corrected silently, her stomach twisting into guilty knots.

She sat up. “Let me look at it. I should have stopped to steal more bandages when I was in that village. Void take them. They owe us much more than bandages.”

“Briar,” Wick consoled.

Briar shushed him and crawled around the nest until she could see his back. It was mostly unscarred; his wings had protected him from most of the net.

The wing stub looked better than yesterday. Skin was already growing over the bone, shiny and pink. Whatever had hurt Wick, it wasn’t anything that Briar needed to check.

But Briar didn’t move away.

She reached out, not daring to touch. She still hadn’t touched the stub, even when she was treating the rest of his wounds. She couldn’t bear to see what she’d done.

“Do…” Briar swallowed. “Do Skullstalker wings grow back?”

Wick’s silence was answer enough.

Briar laughed. What else could she do? She had been asking as a joke, mostly. But the reality of it struck her again, making her eyes burn and her throat close up.

“I’m sorry,” she said, still trying to smile. “I’m— Gods, Wick, I can’t tell you how fucking sorry I am.”

Wick twisted, tugging her carefully into his arms despite her protests.

“I would tell you to cut off the other wing if it meant saving you,” he said.

Briar couldn’t look at him. His eyes were so earnest, even huge and black and full of fire. They were the loveliest eyes she’d ever seen. She had no idea how she had grown so attached to them like this.

“Why?” she burst out, wiping angrily at her cheeks. “I’m—I’m just?—”

A thief, she thought. A liar. A trickster with a blackened heart and open legs.

“I’m just a mortal,” she said instead. “You’ll live the rest of your impossibly long life not being able to fly because of me .”

He took her face in her hands, his claws gentle as he rubbed her cheeks. “Your two hundred years are worth more than thousands of mine.”

“Don’t say that,” Briar snapped. Then his words sank in. “Wait, two hundred? We live for eighty years, maybe .”

Wick blinked. The fire in his eyes flickered with surprise.

“Eighty?”

“Less, for someone like me!” Briar grinned mirthlessly. “Thieves don’t have high life expectancies. I’m shocked I made it this far.”

Wick’s hands tightened on her face. His mouth worked wordlessly, struggling against something important. Then he steeled himself.

“I would find a way,” he said. “There are spells, ancient and difficult, but they are there. I have a brother who can show us how to extend your life. If you wish.”

Briar’s mouth fell open, shocked. Was he really offering what she thought he was offering?

“You want…” Briar wet her lips, dazed. “You want a life ? With me?”

Wick nodded eagerly.

Briar let out a disbelieving laugh. Her eyes were filling with tears once more, and she couldn’t stop it.

For a moment, Briar let herself imagine nights with him—more than they had lined up on their journey.

A lifetime of nights huddled up in his arms, listening to his slow heartbeat.

He would be a cool balm in the summer, and a blanket tucked between them during the winter.

They could buy a place near a waterfall?—

Briar squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the ideas to stop. She couldn’t think about this right now. Not without bursting into tears and becoming utterly useless.

They would break their respective curses. Then… Briar would think about it.

“We should sleep,” she said, lying back down in the nest. “Lots of walking tomorrow.”

Wick said nothing. But his big arms closed around her, making sure her robe was tight around her body before settling in for the night.