Page 18 of The Demon’s Collar (The Bard’s Demon #1)

Aelith’s lips parted with a na?ve little gasp. As if she were somehow blissfully unaware that half the men in this company were one dark room and one unguarded hole from breaking the codex on any given day, despite the threat of castration or death per Lord Austvix’s rigid rules. Humans were human.

“I don’t know who they were,” Ero added, clearly frustrated. “They had masks and some sort of voice enchantment.”

“Lars Wendlin,” Aelith said, glancing pointedly at me. Two guesses why. The holy one wouldn’t have to go about the messy process of lobbing accusations if I simply killed the man.

“Are you sure?” Ero asked quietly.

“Broken nose, minor leg wound, cuts and scrapes,” Aelith said, focused on Ero again. “I healed him last night.”

Well, I had a name. I didn’t know Lars from the next man, but he ought to have known of me—and failing in that regard was his problem. He would regret it tomorrow.

While Aelith teased out useless details from my suddenly loquacious bard, I examined the tiny gold chain on her toe.

I needed to be sure that breaking it wouldn’t do something irritating like kill us all.

Even amateur spellwork could be explosive when tampered with.

But I found no such roadblocks. So, desiring nothing so much as an end to this night, I directed a surge of fire into the metal without bothering to warn the women.

Ero’s scream pierced the night air.

It was over in less than two seconds. The molten gold dripped into my waiting hand, inert and devoid of its magic.

Aelith’s rage overshadowed even Ero’s pain, but she made the right choice.

Rather than attacking me, she performed the necessary heal.

As quickly as the toe beneath my finger blackened and burned, it reformed and returned to its original state.

Aelith kept both hands on Ero’s shoulders, drawing every hurt and scrape from her battered body.

Absurdly, it occurred to me how perfect a pair Aelith and I might have made had we not been immortal enemies.

What I could destroy, she could restore.

What she could restore, I could destroy again and again. Beautiful symbiosis.

“She’s coming with me,” Aelith said coolly, puncturing the image.

“She’s not,” I said, already bored with the argument she wanted to have.

“B?k—” Aelith started.

But Ero put a hand on her arm.

I arched a brow, curious what my kitten intended to do.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you, Aelith. But I need to talk to him.”

Aelith hesitated. What Ero could possibly be to her, I didn’t know. I watched them have an entire conversation with a look. Then Aelith stood. We locked eyes. She raised her hands and shook them once, as though to rid them of mud, and tiny droplets of holy water splattered my things.

Cunt.

“Goodnight, Ero,” Aelith bit out.

She left without further ado.

Ero looked up at me. I couldn’t read her face.

That simple fact sparked a familiar thrill.

I’d purposely pushed her in the woods—so she would fear and hate me enough to stay out of my way and out of my head.

The best thing to do would be to maintain that.

What I wanted to do was draw her back to me, so I could do it all over again.

I turned away from her, considering how to proceed.

“He’s mine,” she said to my back, as though she hadn’t been able to force the words until she didn’t have to say them to my face.

I humored her, keeping my back to her as I directed heat through the tent to dry the cleric’s mess. I picked up Ero’s things, which had fallen in a heap just inside the tent. Her lute, her bow, a handful of provisions and potions.

“Did you hear me?” she said.

Her voice trembled. I smiled. But I said nothing. The shirt she’d stolen rustled when she stood, and I looked at the things in my hands absently while I waited for her to approach. She touched my shoulder, featherlight. I turned to face her, intentionally drawing it out.

The heal had worked wonders. Her skin glowed.

Her eyes gleamed. Her hunger to destroy soared, no longer tamped down by pain.

I liked this version of my kitten. I liked it so much I didn’t bother to tell her that Lars was mine.

She could take her crack at him first. Fine.

And then I would finish it. Spectacularly.

A sharp inhale drew my attention back to her face.

She was looking at the things I held. The tiniest spark of fear and the way she looked away again immediately told me this wasn’t the typical concern for her precious lute.

I looked more critically at the items in my hands.

Among the potions was a vial…of holy water.

Something I wouldn’t have even noticed had her panic not given her away.

I deposited the rest of her things and turned the offending item between my fingers. It was sealed. I could feel the vile substance within, but it couldn’t reach me.

She stepped back, but I matched her.

“B?k…I…”

“Shh,” I soothed. “Lars is yours. Tomorrow.”

The fresh fear in her eyes didn’t waver at my concession. Good. I’d decided my path. I deserved a little fun.

“Get in the bed,” I said. “You’re safe tonight. We’ll talk about this—” I lifted the vial and lobbed it through the open tent flap into the night. “—later.”

She wanted to speak. I saw the words form and die. Her turmoil was too sweet. Cracks formed in her single-minded desire. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to feel safe. And finally, for the first time all night, she wanted me to touch her—to reassure her.

I trailed my fingers down her cheek indulgently. It was so easy. She melted into the soft touch. I guided her to the bedroll and held the cover up while she climbed in. Then I got in behind her, wrapping my arms around her body, enveloping her in my warmth.

I drifted to sleep with the sweet taste of her nerves on my tongue. Tomorrow, Lars would pay for ruining my night and touching what was mine. Then, my kitten would find out what happened when she played with fire.