Chapter 9
Nine
Zax sorted his supplies on the forest floor, humming happily.
He had never owned so many things before he took a wife. Food and kitchen utensils, and firewood, all of which needed to be bundled in a pack that he would carry up his brother’s mountain. Fawn had said he could carry her, so she would only use her cane for emergencies.
Zax hoped there would be none. He wanted so badly for this to work out. He and Fawn had a troubled start; they deserved peace.
He was about to close his pack when he heard a distant, familiar voice ring through the evening air: the villainous Errol.
Zax looked desperately around for Fawn, who had gone to collect berries.
How far away was she? He couldn’t let these people find her.
They would try to take her. Or worse, Fawn might ask to go back with them.
Not that she would want that, of course.
These people were awful. And Fawn was growing to care for Zax, he could tell.
But he did not want to deny her. And he would have to deny her if she asked to go with them.
Zax closed his pack and leapt into a tree, hidden in the leaves. Then he peered out, watching the mortals walk into view.
Errol’s mother was nowhere to be seen. Errol was guiding three hunters through the woods, heavy with crossbows and swords.
“He will not be too difficult to take down,” Errol told them.
“He is small and young. Barely big enough to be called a Skullstalker, the rest of the Circle claimed. They captured him with a group of mages who were untrained in battle. The four of us should be able to take him down with no issue. Especially after the wounds they left him with.”
“Uh-huh,” said the hunter walking next to him, who had a mustache and an eye that was scarred over much like Zax’s. “You’re sure he’s wounded?”
“I heard they took his eye,” Errol said. “And half a horn. And left debilitating scars all over his body. Speaking of, do you have it?”
The lead hunter patted his belt. There was a coil of rope attached to it, Zax realized. But it was no ordinary rope. It was malblossom rope.
Zax shuddered. Sometimes when he dreamed, he still felt the burn of those horrible petals. And when he was awake, moving too vigorously could stretch his scars so deeply it made him feel like he was back there, tied and helpless as mortals poked him with sticks.
He held back a growl. The mortals were almost below them. He could drop down right now and tear them to shreds. Fawn would never have to know.
“Excellent,” said Errol distractedly. He stared up into the trees, and Zax stopped his tail from swishing and his chest from rising and falling with breath, as he waited to be spotted. But the leaves were thick, and Errol had weak mortal eyes.
“What’s our plan of attack?” Errol continued.
“Three days’ time,” the hunter replied. “Give us enough time to prepare what you have planned. You’re sure it lives in a tree?”
“Yes,” said Errol. “My mother spotted it, if you can believe it. She even saw the creature through a window. It is keeping my Fawn hostage. We must—” He stopped, his head snapping to the right. “Did you hear that?”
The hunters frowned. But Zax went cold.
It was Fawn. She was walking toward them with her quickening tread, the cane thudding into the forest floor with each step.
Zax could not risk letting her run into them. He took off, leaping to the next tree and then the next, ignoring his twinging scars over his shoulders as he jumped from branch to branch.
Errol shouted in alarm. The hunters yelled a battle cry and took off after him. But Zax was faster than any puny mortal, and he spotted Fawn before they could. She was frowning, peering through the trees like she, too, had heard something.
Zax leapt down and swept her up in his arms, making her shriek and drop the berries she had collected. Any other time, Zax would have apologized. But there was no time. He tucked her cane into her lap and took off to the trees once more, leaping toward the treehouse.
“What’s happening?” Fawn demanded. Her grip was sweaty around his neck, her heart beating as fast as a rabbit’s. “I heard someone. Who was that?”
“No one,” Zax lied. How much had she heard? Would she recognize Errol’s voice, or had she heard the hunter instead?
Finally, the treehouse loomed into view. He carried her through the window and set her down in their nest, then dropped his pack and went back to close the curtains.
“We must leave,” he announced.
Fawn sat up, clutching her cane so hard her knuckles paled. “Why?”
“Hunters,” Zax said, yanking the last curtain shut. He used to think he was so safe here, the curtains shutting the world out. Not anymore.
“They will attack in three days,” Zax continued, rushing around the treehouse and shoving even more supplies into the pack. “We must leave!”
Fawn stood with barely a wince, leaving her cane in her nest. “Zax. Zax! Stop!”
Zax stilled, his hands full of forks. He had not known how many utensils his wife would need, so he had stolen many.
Fawn paced over and took them from his hands. “Calm down. You said they’ll come in three days. We have time.”
“They will burn down the home I made for you,” Zax said desperately. He took her dear face in his hands, stroking gently along her freckles. He had not kissed each one. How had he not made the time? He should shower her with kisses every day, after they were safe.
He tried to pull away to continue packing. But Fawn pulled him back, placing his hands back on her soft cheeks.
“We have time,” Fawn repeated. She seemed strangely calm now, despite her panic earlier. There was still stress in her scent, but her face was so sweet he hardly noticed.
“It’s getting dark,” Fawn said. “We can sleep one more night in this place. Then leave to find your Anderfel brother, and we will make a new home together.”
Zax would be sad to leave this place. But it had only taken him six months to build it. Barely a blink in the life of a Skullstalker, even one as young as him.
“I thought we would be safe here,” he admitted. “I thought I would keep you safe.”
“You have,” Fawn whispered. Something flickered through her eyes, hot and sharp like the panic still in her scent. Then she kissed him, and the heat of her panic shifted to something even hotter.
Zax melted thankfully into the kiss. He circled her in his arms, lost in her sweet scent and her closeness. This was what he had wanted for so long: someone to lose himself in.
He kissed with every ounce of finesse Fawn had taught him, but it was difficult. He was inexperienced, and that was not even mentioning his fangs. He could not stop himself from licking eagerly into her mouth, crushing those sweet lips against his own.
Fawn pulled away, and Zax prepared to apologize.
But Fawn spoke over him. “Kiss my neck.”
Zax did.
“Softer,” Fawn gasped.
Again, Zax did. She clutched at him, rubbing his broken horn in a way that sent shivers through his entire body. He groaned, rocking his hardening cocks against her.
Fawn swallowed. Zax felt the movement against his lips. The air filled with the intoxicating aroma of her arousal, and Zax’s desperation to leave turned into a desperation he could still not completely fulfil.
“Zax,” Fawn said. “You should fuck me.”
Zax’s cocks throbbed. He leaned back to watch her eyes, her pupils swollen like prey about to be devoured.
“How?” Zax asked. “We have not visited my brother yet. Your body—”
“I know,” Fawn said quickly. “Don’t put them both in. Not even one full cock, I think. Just… just the tip. Can you manage that?”
Zax nodded. She could have asked him anything at that moment, and he would have agreed.
“Okay,” Fawn whispered. She swallowed a second time, and that old fear entered her scent. But only for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and placed her hand on the knot in his loincloth. “Take this off.”