Page 17 of The Demon’s Collar (The Bard’s Demon #1)

B?k: Mine

I was in a good mood. As good as moods got in this place, anyway. The storms kept the camp quiet. The quiet made space for the wind to speak. And speak it did.

I finally knew what the Huntress wanted.

Having put the bard firmly in her place the previous night—a victory I’d assumed after leaving her mewling in the woods and confirmed earlier when I saw her so cowed that even her magic shied from me—I’d gone for a long ride alone.

The clouds hung heavy overhead, ripe with anticipation. Haz’s interest weighed heady and acidic on my tongue. Plots were thickening. Luckily, I had the whole day to breathe them in. While I did, I tasted the Huntress’s desires amplified by every soldier who wished to please her.

The Huntress wanted me .

Why? That was more complicated to parse.

My contract with Austvix was ironclad. I couldn’t help the Huntress nor work against Austvix.

My existence had not been a secret before, so her sudden interest was suspect at best. If this were about neutralizing me, she would have wanted to do it before.

So, there were still plenty of mysteries afoot.

But Colonel Astrada was right to worry. As long as the Huntress’s desires remained singular, our party would be in grave danger.

The good news was that the Huntress’s closest riders—now that we’d killed the first wave—were several days’ ride away.

It was late when I returned to the camp. There was no point in rousing Astrada before morning. Tomorrow, I would share what I knew and leave the next move in her capable hands.

I’d just settled in my tent with that plan in mind when a violent wave of anguish choked me. Its cadence flashed scarlet and tasted of burnt amber. I knew immediately that it was the bard.

I was on my feet and back outside before I could fully comprehend the situation.

Her distress was not a result of idle anger.

That much was clear. The bard wanted to kill.

She wanted it so loudly, so painfully, that I knew something had to have happened just now.

If the Huntress’s desires had been a faint whisper in a gale, Ero’s were a tornado.

Concerned that her life was in danger—which would be terribly inconvenient—I stalked to her tent. A gaping hole at the top let the rain flow in. Ero lay on her stomach with her hands bound behind her back. Her sobs grew more furious with each choked breath.

I stiffened. Heat climbed my neck despite the freezing rain. The position I found her in had appeal. The fact that she’d been put there by someone else did not.

“Who did this to you?” I demanded.

My first thought was Fl?r—but I knew better. He wasn’t this bold. He was the sort of man who wanted to be thought well of, who acted on his basest desires only when he was certain no one would know or judge him for it.

The air heated with my growing fury. The bard and I were instantly enveloped in steam. I might have reined in my temper had the moonlight not illuminated the cuts and bruises on her writhing arms. But it did, and the tent caught fire.

Who the fuck had touched her? It was no secret she was mine. Not a cherished possession—but a possession all the same. Someone was going to die for this.

It was her scream that finally grounded me.

Right. Humans could burn.

I lifted her bodily from the wreckage, kicking the flaming tent into the mud to extinguish it.

A flick of my wrist summoned my shadows, which gathered her meager collection of things from the mess.

They trailed behind us as I stalked back to my tent.

I deposited her on her feet—forcing a gentleness I didn’t feel in the least.

“Who?” I demanded again.

Her gaze snapped to mine. Her desire didn’t change. She wanted to kill me just as badly as she wanted to kill whoever had done this to her. Perhaps I’d been too convincing in the woods.

Too bad. I wasn’t sorry.

“Untie me,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Then tell me?—”

“I don’t know. ” She stumbled back, her jaw set. “It’s not your problem. Untie me. I’ll handle it.”

I frowned, not liking the tone any more than I liked the situation.

“Careful, kitten,” I warned.

A hint of fear flashed in her emerald eyes. But her expression remained hostile.

Fine. I could humor her. I cut the rope binding her wrists.

It was imbued with amateur spellwork—something designed to confuse and distort magic.

Oddly though, when it fell to the ground, her usually colorful and chaotic tangle of magic remained muted and gray.

Just like it’d been early that morning when she hadn’t been able to meet my eyes.

Was that because she finally feared me enough to mind herself—or was it something else?

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

She laughed, bitter and cold. She had no trouble meeting my eyes now. “Fuck. You.”

Something far more dangerous than anger stirred in my chest. Intrigue. She wanted a fight. She burned for it. She knew how outmatched she was, and still, she pushed.

Fine.

Wish granted.

“Undress,” I ordered, pushing my words to weave into the collar’s enchantment.

Her eyes flared. The nectar of pure hatred mingled with a dark desire even I couldn’t fully untangle.

She wanted to destroy something—apparently even if the only thing available to destroy was herself.

For a moment I feared she would fight the collar.

I wasn’t prepared for that. I wasn’t even sure what to do if she tried.

I needed her mind intact—and I was banking on her to care enough to keep it that way.

Luckily, she did.

When she finished shedding her clothes, she crossed her arms. Not out of modesty.

No, she didn’t bother to hide her chest, but rather framed it with her defiant stance.

Her nipples pebbled in the cold, begging for a warm touch.

On cue, my predictable body itched to provide said touch.

Haz’s whole bare ass. It was not the time.

I needed answers. Besides which, where her hatred had been intermingled with desire in the past, it was just hatred right now.

“Tell me what happened,” I said evenly. At the immediate pursing of her lips that had fuck off written plainly across them, I grew impatient. “Speak, or I’ll ask again, and you’ll tell me from your knees.”

Sensing exactly how much she didn’t want to be touched, I refrained from reaching for the collar to underscore my point.

She looked away. But she spoke.

“It was initiation,” she said in a disinterested monotone. “Last night and tonight. I wasn’t the only one. Like I said, it’s my problem.”

I frowned, examining her as she avoided looking at me. There were bloody cuts on her knees, mud and bruises on her arms, and—I circled behind her—thin angry welts on her back, trailing down to bruises that covered her soft ass and thighs.

I took a few slow breaths. It would be exceedingly inconvenient to burn a second tent tonight and have to shake Brü down for a spare. The temperature rose, but only by a few degrees. I was trying .

“What’s wrong with your magic?” I pushed.

Almost as soon as I said it, though, I saw the answer for myself. She followed my gaze to her foot and didn’t bother to speak. The tiny gold chain cinched around her toe caught the lamplight. Its chaotic aura had been lost in the mess of emotions before. I singled it out easily now.

The spellwork was criminal. It wasn’t just weak, which would have been forgivable and expected of a homebrew. It was unstable. It clawed at her, forcing her own magic to hold a constant shield against it.

“Sit down,” I ordered.

“I’ll go to Aelith. ”

“You will sit the fuck down,” I said, louder than I’d intended—but I didn’t use the collar again. Yet. “Aelith won’t be able to remove it.”

A headache dawned with a fresh realization.

Even though Aelith wouldn’t be able to remove the spellwork—because she wasn’t adept at enchantments—if I removed it…

I would need a healer on hand. Preferably a strong one with the ability to soothe serious burns quickly.

Aelith was the only one who clearly fit that bill.

Well, fuck me sideways.

“I’ll get her,” I sighed.

Ero looked surprised. I didn’t bother explaining myself. I pointed at my bedroll, indicating that she should sit, all of my irritation plain on my face.

Then I fetched the biggest thorn that’d ever graced my side.

The camp’s hazy aura glowed umber and sage. Soldiers cowered in their tents, miserable from the twin assaults of unrelenting rain and isolation. These were social creatures. Forced to keep their own company for even short stretches, their misery sang.

I found Aelith with Brü, of course. At my call, he poked his head out of his tent like an initiate who’d been caught with a painted entertainer in his bunk. I didn’t bother with niceties.

“Ero’s hurt. She needs the elemental.”

Brü asked a flurry of questions that I ignored. Further talk was unnecessary. The smug blonde strode out of the tent without a hint of resistance. She put on a wonderful show of concern—as usual, giving me nothing tangible to point my hatred toward, though hate I did.

I explained the situation on the way back to my tent—and Aelith put voice to my observation as we entered. “They know better than to do anything that would interfere with the initiates’ ability to perform their duties.”

“I broke his nose,” my feral kitten explained. “He took it personally.”

Of course she wanted to talk now that Aelith’s infuriating eyes held hers. She’d also stolen one of my shirts while I was gone. It went almost to her knees.

“Still—” Aelith started.

“He tried to do more,” Ero said specifically to Aelith, desiring my absence more loudly than ever. “The other man mentioned the codex, and...”