Chapter 4
Four
Zax woke at dawn to watch his new wife sleep.
Wife. He would never get tired of the word. It was made of magic. And soon they would make it official, with his Anderfel brother’s spells linking them together.
Zax looked out of one of the many windows he had fixed into the treehouse, complete with something that his brother Wick called “curtains.” According to Wick, they were not affixed very well to the window.
But Zax would learn. He would learn anything for his new wife, who was used to walls and warmth and washing in a tub.
Fawn’s head was pillowed on his stomach. She smelled better like this, no sour fear in sleep. Then she shifted, and her contented smell flooded with pain.
Her ankle was even worse than last night. If Zax had hurt his foot, it would have healed overnight unless there was a bone sticking out of the skin. But mortals were so fragile.
He pressed a small, hesitant kiss to Fawn’s forehead. Then he left her in his nest and headed down into the forest to make her a satisfying breakfast.
First, he killed a deer. Then he gathered several handfuls of berries, slipping them into pockets he had sewn into his loincloth and silently congratulating himself for learning how to sew, but also regretting that he had killed the deer before gathering berries.
It was difficult with the dead deer hanging over his shoulder.
On the walk back, Zax contemplated the mysterious art of baking bread.
He only ate bread when he visited his brothers, who dabbled in that sort of thing.
Zax’s only attempt at baking had turned out hard and unpleasant, but he had been meaning to try again.
That meant he needed ingredients, which meant he had to find a town and steal their supplies, and then figure out how to build a firepit—
A distant voice stopped that thought in its tracks.
“She wouldn’t run away,” a man snapped. “Do you hear yourself? It’s Fawn. She has as much spine as a piece of thread.”
Fawn. This man was talking about Zax’s new wife. And talking badly about her, no less. Unless Zax was misunderstanding their mortal sayings, which was entirely possible, as he spent very little time around them.
Zax stalked silently toward the voice, which was soon joined by an old woman.
“People will do strange things when they’re desperate,” the old woman said. “And don’t snap at me, Errol.”
The mortals came into view. Zax crouched behind a tree to watch. They had the same blonde hair, the same wide jaw, and identical expressions of displeasure. They were walking fast through the woods with large packs strapped to their backs.
“Then don’t say stupid things,” the man, Errol, said. “Trust me, she did not run. She might have taken some time to get used to it, but she’s a sensible girl. She understands that now my brother is dead, I am her best option as a husband.”
Zax’s claws dug into the deer corpse hanging over his shoulder. This rude, sneering wretch was her dead husband’s brother? And he was trying to get her to marry him? Fawn had been given to him by the Titan gods. She was his.
But… why hadn’t Fawn mentioned them? Zax frowned as he watched the mortals stalk through the woods. Did she not trust him enough to tell him? She was still scared of him. Maybe she was waiting to bring it up.
Whatever the reason, Fawn was better off with Zax. He would give her the world, and he would not compare her spine to a piece of thread. Zax was almost certain it was an insult. Spines were meant to be strong. Even mortal ones.
“Which means she has been taken,” Errol spat. “Kidnapped by those hunters whom we met, or some ruffians prowling these woods!”
The old woman huffed resentfully. “Or she went after that Skullstalker.”
Errol stopped to glare at her. “What?”
“You said she showed you a footprint. Maybe she went after it.”
“To do what?” Errol snapped as Zax looked down at his clawed feet, which were leaving prints in the dirt.
“No, she has been taken, or she is lying somewhere hurt, waiting for us to save her. We must find her and bring her home. It’s what Renly would have wanted.
For me to live a long life with her. If he can’t have her, then it falls to me. ”
The old woman hummed. She did not look entirely convinced. But when Errol began to walk again, she followed close behind.
Zax waited until they were out of earshot and then set off through the forest, head reeling.
He had hardly considered what life she must have come from.
She hadn’t fallen out of the sky fully formed; of course, she had a past. But she said she was drawn to him.
That her husband was cruel. It made sense that her husband’s family would be cruel, too, and she would want nothing to do with them.
And if she did want to go back with them…
Well, then all he had to do was change her mind. Until then, he must keep them away from her.
He would make her happy, he told himself as he skinned the deer with his sharp claws and took out the pieces of the animal that mortals did not like to eat.
By the time her ankle healed enough for them to journey to his Anderfel brother, there would be no more fear in her scent.
She would have no reason to want to return to her uncaring family—if she ever did.
He would make sure of it. And the first step was a good breakfast.
Roasting the deer leg only made Zax more aware of how much work mortals had to do. If he had to cook meat every time he ate it, he would invent something easier than a campfire, too. But for now, it was all he had.
He took the steaming deer leg and the berries and climbed the tree. He came through the window and found Fawn with her coat around her shoulders, sitting next to the books he had stacked in the corner. She startled as he climbed through the window, dropping her book.
“Hello,” Zax said. He was bursting to ask her about Errol and his mother, but he managed to keep himself silent.
If she knew they were looking for her, she might ask him to bring her back.
Then he would have to keep her against her will until she realized how happy she could be with him.
He did not want to do that. Better to assume she never wanted to see her husband’s family again and let her bring it up if she truly did want to see them.
“I do not know how much mortals eat,” Zax continued. “Is this enough?”
He placed the food on the table. Berries rolled over the surface, and he placed a hand on the wood to stop them from rolling off.
“I will find a bowl,” he promised.
Fawn stared at him. He somehow felt like he was doing something wrong, given how confused she was. But her expression cleared, even if she still smelled of fear.
“This is more than enough,” she said, tugging her coat tighter around her shoulders. “Thank you.”
“I can carry you to the table,” he offered.
“No, no. I can do it.” Fawn gripped a tree trunk sprouting out of the wall and heaved herself up. She then hopped over to the table, using the wall to steady herself when she could not stand on her injured ankle.
“There is no bread,” Zax continued as she reached the table. “But I can learn to make it. And I will make a fire pit below us. And my brother taught me how to make ‘jerky.’ Since mortals eat so little of an animal before it sours.”
“Thank you,” Fawn said again. She picked up a berry, rolling it between her fingers cautiously.
Zax watched her, his distress growing with each second that she did not eat.
Was it not a good breakfast? He had seen his brothers’ wives eat this food.
It was usually on plates, but he did not have any of those yet.
Plates, bowls, a fire pit for faster cooking—he thought he was ready for a wife. Apparently, he was lacking.
“Do you want to come hunting with me next time?” Zax asked. “Or when you’re healed?”
Fawn placed the berry back down and gave him another confused look. “To… carry your kills?”
“No,” he said. “To hunt! Mortals are weak, but that is why you made weapons.”
He waited for her to tell him what weapon she used for hunting. Whether she liked to do it from far away, with a bow, or up close, like him. Maybe she enjoyed the chase. That could be something they had in common. He sorely wished to have something in common with his wife.
But Fawn only stared at him some more. “You want me to hunt with you?”
“When you are healed,” Zax said. Then, when she looked even more confused, “Do you not enjoy it?”
“I’ve never hunted,” Fawn admitted. “Only prepared animals after they were killed.”
“Oh,” Zax said. That was much less exciting. “Do you enjoy that?”
He meant for it to lead into an offer—she could prepare his next kill, if she wished. But Fawn looked at him in the same way she kept looking at him whenever he asked a question: like she did not understand why he was asking it in the first place.
“I—” Fawn began. She looked down at the table, where the deer leg was gently steaming. “I don’t know. It needs to be done.”
She hesitated, then placed a berry in her mouth.
“They’re not poisonous to mortals,” Zax said excitedly. “I checked.”
“I know, I picked these same berries the other day,” Fawn replied. Then she looked up at him, her eyes wide and wary. “I mean, thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Why do you not hunt?” Zax asked, eager to get the worry out of her scent. “Do you not like it?”
“I’ve just never done it. Hunting is man’s work.”
“Oh,” Zax said. He stopped to think of the mortals he had spotted hunting in the woods. He was sure he had spotted some women among them. Maybe it was different depending on the place. “Why?”
“Women are meant for some things. Men do others.” Fawn ate another berry with a curious look on her face, like she had never had to explain this before. “They say women are too weak.”
“All mortals are weak,” Zax said. Then he amended, “Compared to a Skullstalker. As I said, that is why you make weapons.”
This did not seem to comfort her.
“You tried to stab me after I killed your husband!” Zax pointed out. “That was not weak.”
Fawn laughed. It sounded high and shocked, and she looked away shortly after.
“Thank you,” she said.
Then she smiled.
Zax stared, spellbound. He had never seen her smile before.
In the back of his mind, he suspected that it was not good that his wife had only smiled once after he had known her for a whole night.
But it was difficult to focus on anything except that smile.
It was small and tentative, but it was the start of something amazing.
It was the start of their life together, full of smiles and companionship.
Then Fawn shifted, and her smile turned to a grimace of pain.
“Your ankle,” Zax remembered. He picked her up carefully, ignoring her protests as he carried her to their nest and set her down. He arranged her coat around her shoulders. Then he came back with a handful of berries and a small strip of deer meat.
She took the food, chewing dutifully. Her scent was more relaxed this morning.
Zax wondered if he should ask about mating again.
She was only in pain if she moved her foot, and they did not have to do that.
If he did it well, maybe he could cheer her up.
Or convince her that she would be happy here, no fear required.
“Do you want me to mate you now?” Zax asked.
Fawn stiffened. Something flashed through her eyes, panicked.
“It will not hurt,” Zax said quickly. “I cannot mate you properly because we have not done the spell, but I can make you feel good. I can use my tongue. My brothers say it will fit, and that women particularly enjoy it.”
“Oh,” Fawn stuttered. “I’m….”
She trailed off as Zax stuck out his tongue. He let it fall out of his mouth, long and curling and flexible. He did not touch his tongue-tip to her good leg, even though he sorely wanted to.
Fawn’s lips parted. Her freckled cheeks flushed a pretty red, and Zax had to fight the urge to lick them, too.
“My brothers explained what to do,” Zax said, leaning closer. “Where it feels best. Can I?”
He laid his hand on the nest next to her good leg. There was a new scent mingling in the air between them, sweet and tantalizing. Desire. Just as his brothers described.
Fawn stared at him, her eyes so huge and brown he wanted to sink into them.
There was a small part of him that thought of that deer he had brought for her, its deep eyes staring into his own before he pounced, the thrill of the hunt taking him over.
But he pushed it away for now. This was not the moment.
“Fawn,” he said.
She shivered. The hot scent of her desire was so thick it almost drowned out the bitter taste of her fear.
“A-alright,” she said. She cleared her throat. “Okay. Yes.”
Zax knelt lower and pushed up her dress.
Her legs were covered in thin, downy hair that got more sparse the higher he got.
Then he reached the apex of her thighs and revealed her underclothes, and his mouth watered at the coarse hair poking out from the fabric, which was damp as it stretched over her mound.
Zax’s two cocks stiffened under his loincloth. He leaned in, eager for a taste…
“Wait,” Fawn blurted.
Zax looked up questioningly, his tail swishing with excitement.
Fawn eyed it for a moment and then looked down at him. “Surely we should kiss before doing all… that?”
“Yes,” Zax said automatically. He sat up, tail still swishing. “Kissing. Remind me what that is?”
Fawn narrowed those beautiful doe eyes at him. Then she laughed that same shocked, small laugh from before.
“Your brothers explained that,” she said. “But not kissing?”
Zax nodded. “I am sure they mentioned it. I might have been distracted. We often talk while we hunt.”
Fawn looked at him like he was something entirely new. But for once, not something she was particularly wary of. It was only for a moment, but it made him hopeful. He would win her over, given enough time.
Fawn hesitated. Then she reached up and gripped his half-horn atop his head, the one her Circle had broken.
It was Zax’s turn to hesitate. No one had ever touched his broken horn before. It felt strange. Tingly.
Fawn let go. “Sorry.”
“No,” he said over her. He caught her hand, closing her fingers around the broken horn. “Keep going. It does not hurt. It is just… different.”
Fawn rubbed a curious thumb over his broken horn. It sent a wave of sensation through his skull, hot and shivery.
Fawn pulled him toward her, and Zax went obediently. He had a vague idea of what she was going to do now, but not entirely.
Then Fawn stopped. She stared at him, something strange flashing over her face.
“What?” Zax asked.
Fawn shook her head. Then she pressed her lips to his.