Page 6

Five

F lying in a Skullstalker’s arms was by far Briar’s favorite near-death experience.

Even with the ground looming a deadly distance away and a literal monster breathing down her neck, she couldn’t help the wild grin that spread over her face, which ached after what must have been at least an hour in the air.

They were covering so much ground! At this rate, they would make it to Marigold’s cottage in days , not weeks.

“Woo-hoo,” Briar yelled, the noise getting caught in the cool spring wind. “I’m flying !”

“You keep yelling that,” Wick said. Then he sniffed her. “You smell strange. Fearful, but also very happy.”

Briar twisted to stare at him. His fiery eyes were fixed on the trees below, scanning for gods knew what.

“You can smell that?” Briar demanded.

Wick made a distracted rumbling noise. Then he blinked, his fiery eyes fixing on her.

Not for the first time, Briar was astounded by them.

Not just the flames, but the fact that there was no danger in them.

She had been looked at with malice so often that it was strange to be under his soft, curious gaze.

“I have a keen nose,” was all he said.

Briar huffed a laugh into his chest, hoping he couldn’t smell her worries. She based her entire life around tricking people; she couldn’t have some monster sniffing her out.

“Is that a Skullstalker thing?” she asked.

He made another rumbling noise. He sounded like an old dog, and Briar had to fight back a shocking wave of affection.

This wasn’t a cute old spaniel sitting at the back of a tea shop.

This was a Skullstalker . Even if he was helping her, he was still a monster.

If she didn’t have Marigold’s amulet, he would have ripped her to shreds last night.

Her stomach gurgled. She grimaced. That egg hadn’t lasted very long. It didn’t help that she hadn’t had dinner last night.

Wick frowned. “You are hungry again?”

“I can last,” she assured him.

But Wick was already flying down toward the trees.

“I said I can last,” she complained as they headed for the treetops.

“My wings are growing tired,” Wick said. “This will be a welcome rest.”

Briar narrowed her eyes as he weaved through the trees with surprising delicateness and landed gently on the ground, still holding her like he didn’t quite know what to do next.

“What will you eat?” he asked. “I can find another bird nest. I will be more careful with the eggs this time.”

“Thanks,” she said, easing herself out of his grip and landing on her feet. “But I was thinking of something more substantial.”

“Substantial?”

Briar looked around, considering. There was enough around for her to construct a shoddy trap.

“Like a squirrel,” she started.

Wick nodded determinedly and took off.

“Wait,” she called after him. “I didn’t mean?—”

But he was already flying off, looking determinedly through the trees.

“—you,” she finished.

Wick ignored her. He hovered in midair for a moment, then sped up a tree so fast that Briar jumped. There was an animal shriek and a small pop , and Wick turned to her with a dead squirrel hanging from his claws.

“Found one,” he announced.

He flew down, his movements oddly stiff like he was holding himself back.

The amulet glowed around Briar’s neck. The closer Wick got, the smoother his movements became.

Briar closed her hand around the glowing amulet. He was holding himself back from a frenzy, she realized, most likely triggered by killing the squirrel. If she didn’t have the amulet…

Wick landed in front of her, shaking his shoulders like he was shaking off a bad thought.

“Here.” He held the squirrel out uncertainly, much like he had held out the egg.

She took it. Then she stared at him until it clicked.

“Oh,” he said. “Cooking.”

Briar patted his chest. It wasn’t as cold as it was last night. Probably because I’ve been cuddled against his chest for the last hour , she thought.

“I’ll take care of this part,” she assured him.

An admirably short time later, Briar had the rabbit skinned and rotating over a makeshift spit.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” she asked as she turned the stick.

“I do not hunger as mortals do. I will not need to feed for…” Wick paused to consider this. “Perhaps a week.”

“Really?” That went against every bedtime story she’d heard about Skullstalkers. “I heard you guys were ravenous. You know, eternal hunger, cursed to roam the land feeding on whatever was unfortunate enough to stumble into your lair.”

Wick stared at her. “ You stumbled into my lair. I did not feed on you.”

“Only because I got lucky.” She flicked the amulet around her neck, and they both watched it settle against her collarbones.

She meant it to be a joke. But Wick didn’t smile as he averted his gaze.

“Mortals do not know much about our kind.”

You don’t know much about mortals, either, Briar thought.

He didn’t even know what they ate . He’d been living in the mortal realm for his entire existence—however long that was—and he still didn’t know basic facts about mortals.

It must have been a very secluded existence.

Or maybe he was spending time with other Skullstalkers.

Briar had been told they were a solitary bunch, but what did she know?

Wick shifted in the dirt. He was sitting across from her, holding his knees like she had done in the cave this morning.

Almost like he was trying to make himself smaller, Briar thought with amusement.

He didn’t want to intimidate her. It was…

sweet. Even if half his face was a skull, and he could rip her apart with one claw.

“So,” he said as rabbit fat dripped onto the fire below, throwing sparks. “Why were you being hunted?”

Briar made sure her smile was still in place.

She hadn’t actually had to explain her situation to anybody yet.

They either already knew, and she didn’t have to say a word, or they didn’t know, and she wanted to keep it that way.

This curse was just another string of bad luck that Briar would do her best to forget about as soon as it was over.

No looking back. It was the only way to get through a life like hers. Do anything else, and you would go mad with pain and bitterness.

“The warlock who cursed me had a rich family,” she explained. “Not that it did me any good. I didn’t even get to rob him after I hacked his head off.”

Wick grunted. Briar watched him carefully. Most common folk didn’t like thieves. But Wick was hardly common folk.

“You desire riches,” Wick said finally.

Briar laughed. She was tempted to leave it there and let him believe what everybody else believed: that she was a greedy, black-hearted thief with a great rack. But who was he going to tell if she was truthful for once?

“I want comfort ,” she corrected him. “You know. Food on the table. Warm place to sleep every night. Nobody knocking down my door asking for a fight. Money means I can have those things.”

“I have no money,” Wick pointed out. “I have comfort.”

Briar snorted. That nest was pretty comfortable.

She’d had pretty dreams last night, all sweetness and softness.

She’d woken once to find herself swaddled in Wick’s huge arms and wasn’t even aware enough to struggle out of them.

She’d drifted back to sleep full of a safety that only existed in her far-fetched dreams.

“I would have more,” Wick continued, watching rabbit fat drip into the flames. “If I could control myself.”

Briar toyed with the amulet using the hand that wasn’t turning the spit. “Speaking of control. What’s with your blood frenzy , anyway? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Then you are like all else I have spoken to,” Wick said. “I have memories of fighting. My brother insists they’re dreams; he says any wars Skullstalkers fought were won long before we were born.”

Briar had no knowledge of any wars involving Skullstalkers. She didn’t know Skullstalkers dreamed. She didn’t know Skullstalkers had siblings. It was an oddly cute idea.

“Your brother?”

“Slate,” Wick explained. “Mortals know him as the Bygone. He rules the wanderer’s void.”

Briar hadn’t been warned of the Bygone since she lived on the other side of the country. As far as she knew, he was a fairy story to stop travelers from stepping off forest paths.

Wick sighed, his tail flicking distractedly behind him. “I wish I could speak with him. He could get us to your witch’s place with a portal.”

“A portal,” Briar repeated. “Since when can Skullstalkers make portals?”

“He is very old and very powerful,” Wick replied. He gripped his tail, stroking it absentmindedly. “I am not good at magic. Only killing.”

He sounded sad about it. He was obviously trying to hide it, but Briar was well-versed in seeing past the emotional facades of men.

Even if they were Skullstalker men. And Wick was surprisingly easy to read, for someone who had a motionless skull for half his face.

His fiery eyes narrowed and contracted, his wings and tail twitched, and his body language might as well have been verbal for how helpful it was in spelling out how he was feeling.

Which, as far as Briar could tell, was deeply awkward.

Briar leaned over the campfire to pat his arm. “Well, at least you feel bad about it.”

Wick blinked at her hand. Briar leaned back and continued turning the spit, ignoring how her hand was tingling.

She’d spent a long time pressed up against this monster, never mind that she was unconscious for most of it.

There was no reason for the thrill that ran through her at the feel of his cool skin.

“So,” she said. “Say this works. My friend lifts your blood curse using whatever magic she used to fuel my protection necklace. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Wick admitted. “It is not as if I can live in a town. Mortals do not like Skullstalkers, and I am not suited to crowds. I suppose I would find somewhere quiet, like I always do. But I would venture wherever I wished and know that I would only attack if I wished it.”

You would have to attack everywhere you went, Briar thought to herself. People would ambush you on sight.

Still, it was an admirable ambition. It was actually shockingly close to hers, if she thought about it.

“That sounds peaceful,” she admitted.

“That is all I want,” Wick replied. “Peace.”

He tipped his head up to the sky. Watching the birds, Briar thought. Or maybe watching the sunlight through the branches.

Do not get attached to the Skullstalker, Briar told herself sternly. She had been very good at not getting attached. It only brought pain and regret. She was not going to break a good streak just because some monster wanted to settle down sometime.

She pulled up a lazy grin. “So, what, you’d buy a little cottage somewhere?”

“What? No. I only need my nest. Ideally, in a cave, or somewhere else secluded.” Wick paused, cocking his head at a bird flying above the trees. “But perhaps a nest near a waterfall.”

Do not get attached , Briar hissed to herself, even louder than last time.

She eased the rabbit off the spit and examined the hot flesh. “Maybe I can come and visit you when I’m rich!”

Wick looked surprised. “I would enjoy that. I… I have never had a friend before. Except my brother, I suppose.”

Briar stopped, her mouth snapping shut before she could bite into the rabbit. She moved it out of the way to stare at him.

“You want to be friends,” she said, only managing to make it sound funny on the last words, “With lil ol’ me?”

“I do,” said Wick.

As if it were that easy. As if Briar wasn’t a husk of empty smiles wrapped in a lot of charm. As if she would ever be friends with someone who could kill her so easily. But his face was so damn earnest she actually had to hide how touched she was.

“Great,” she said chirpily. “To friendship, big boy.”

She tore off a steaming piece of rabbit and held it out. He sniffed it, bemused.

“Come on,” she goaded.

“It smells strange.”

“That’s because it’s cooked.” She held it out further.

Wick ate it off her fingers. Briar held still, forcing herself not to shiver as that big, pink tongue licked rabbit fat off her palm.

“Hmmm.” He sat back, flames twisting thoughtfully in his huge eyes. “It is… fine.”

Briar couldn’t help it: she laughed. Truly laughed, nothing fake about it. She tried to rein it in, as always. But he had heard much of her genuine laughter, even if most of it was hysterical.

She could allow true parts of herself to seep through with him.

It wasn’t like they would stick together after their journey finished.

Even if he did get his heart’s desire and live peacefully next to a waterfall, she would be too busy to visit him.

Striving for the next heist, the next town, the next haul that would finally set her for life—not that any of them ever did.

She was closer to forty than thirty now, and she was as broke and alone as ever.

She did want peace. But she doubted she’d ever get it. Void, the Skullstalker probably had a better chance at it than she did.

“Briar.”

Briar blinked. Her name sounded odd in his mouth. She couldn’t work out why. Probably the fangs.

“You smell sad,” he continued.

Briar almost squished the freshly cooked rabbit. She let go of it fast, blowing on her overheated hands. Right, he could smell her emotions. She just had to keep a handle on them, make sure they didn’t get too strong. Luckily, she had a lifetime of practice.

“I’m just worried,” she said, which was not untrue. “I know I don’t have to worry about the curse while you’re here. But I don’t know what I’ll do if we get separated and I’m alone in the woods.”

“We will not get separated,” Wick said dismissively. He licked a stray shred of rabbit from his claws, and Briar’s gaze fell once more to the pink length.

“There is nothing powerful enough to keep me from you,” he continued, still licking. That long tongue curled around his entire wrist, sliding over a slick trail of rabbit fat.

Briar’s breath caught in her chest. His tongue and his stupidly sweet words were making her clit throb.

Since when was she attracted to that? His monstrous tongue should make her shudder, and not in anticipation.

His words should make her laugh, as many men have made her laugh as they attempted to seduce her.

And yet, there was something enticing about it. His monstrous form combined with such softness. The knowledge that he had all that power and ferocity, and he didn’t want to turn it on her.

She folded her legs tighter. Could he smell the wetness between her legs?

Wick’s tongue slowed and stilled. His fiery eyes locked on her, and Briar cursed silently.

“Oh,” Wick said. “Is it time?”