Chapter 26 #3
“Cas,” she shouted.
She steadied her bow and fired. It was pure muscle memory, but the arrow flew true, burying itself into the thing’s shoulder. It jerked, so it could feel pain, but it kept barreling toward them. She pulled another arrow from her quiver.
Casrian wrenched his sword free from the first creature and turned.
His sword came down again, cutting into the barrel chest, tendrils of black smoke spilling out of the wound.
It cried out in anger and pain, the sound piercing her ears.
It landed in a crouch, one arm pulled up to its body, but it hadn’t gone down.
The one on the ground was still moving, its body writhing even with the black blood gushing out onto the leaves. It rolled, getting its feet under it.
“Get out of here,” Casrian growled at her.
She couldn’t leave him alone. Not with two of the things. He could yell at her later.
She stepped to the side, trying to get a clear shot, which was difficult because the witch hunter kept planting himself between her and the beasts.
Come on… Come on… Just a little—
The one on the right shifted and she fired.
She’d tried aiming for its eye, but it flinched at the last second and her arrow glanced off the side of its head.
It did little damage, but it pulled its attention away from Casrian for a moment.
She reached for another arrow as it swung its head her way.
Her hands were shaking so badly she lost her grip and the arrow fell to the ground. She grabbed another.
Casrian’s sword slashed across the other’s neck, taking its head clean off its body.
He looked so calm doing it, his body moving in sure, practiced movements, graceful as a cat as he followed through on the strike and spun to face the next threat.
She only had a second to admire the sight before the other creature lunged at her.
She fired again and this time her arrow lodged through its throat.
It made a gurgling roar of pain but kept coming on.
She stumbled back, tripping over a branch and falling on her ass. She lost her bow and grabbed for her knife.
Casrian spun around and drove his blade into the thing’s back. The tip of the blade exploded out the front of its chest. The big body shuddered and dropped to the ground.
She scrambled to her feet, knife clutched in her hand, panting, expecting it to keep crawling toward her even with a hole in its chest, but it was well and truly dead. It took her body several stuttering heartbeats longer to accept the fact.
She was shaking. Her skin cold and sweaty at the same time. She couldn’t seem to move at all.
Casrian’s gaze swept the area around them.
He flicked the viscous black blood off his blade and then cleaned it with a rag he withdrew from his pocket.
He threw the rag on the corpse and gathered her arrows.
One shaft had broken and the head of another remained inside the shoulder of the beast when he pulled it free, but he reclaimed what he could before stepping neatly over the corpse between them and coming to her.
“You weren’t hurt?”
She shook her head, although she was still only half-convinced of it.
Casrian helped her up and positioned himself between her and corpses. She blinked and drew in a shaky breath.
“Rowan?” He frowned at her.
“I’m all right. I’m all right.”
It wasn’t like last night. She wasn’t going to fall apart on him again.
“We need to move.” He squeezed her arm and turned her back toward the camp. “I told you to run.”
“I wasn’t going to leave you behind.”
“You need to obey my commands. If I tell you to run, you run.”
He scowled into the trees as they approached the camp, like something might attack them again at any moment.
“You think there’s more of them, don’t you? How? You said a witch didn’t make more than one familiar at a time. That they didn’t hunt during the day. That sunlight burned them.”
He didn’t answer her questions, just continued to drag her along like a disobedient child. “I never should have brought you out here.”
“You wouldn’t have made it this far without me.”
“I’d have managed.”
He led her around a fallen tree and hurried her back to camp. When they reached the campsite, he released her and nodded toward her bags.
“Pack your things. We need to go.”
She bent to grab the blanket off the ground. “Did you see any sign of your men?”
“No.” He took the blanket from her and moved to the horses. “But those creatures were out this far from the nest for a reason. They were hunting something.”
“Us.”
“I don’t think so. They weren’t stalking the camp else they would have attacked earlier.”
She grabbed her bags, shoving some food in her pocket for the ride. “Do you think they were hunting your men?”
“It’s more likely that they were drawn to the bodies we left behind last night.”
She grimaced at the reminder.
“I’m sending you home.”
Her gaze jerked up. “What?”
“You’ve brought me far enough. I underestimated the power of the witch and the extent of the rot. My fault. It’s no reflection on your skill as a guide.”
“I can’t go back,” she snapped. “You need me. I can find your men. They’re close now. I can feel it.”
“You can feel it?” he said scornfully. “What does that even mean? You won’t even tell me how you’re doing it. Every day we’re out here increases your danger.”
She poked his chest. “It increases your danger too.”
“I’m a witch hunter. It’s part of my job.”
“It’s a stupid job.” She’d never believed that more than she did at this moment. “Is this about last night? It won’t happen again. I’ve never killed anyone before. You said it happened even to soldiers. I won’t ask you to touch me again if you don’t want to.”
He blew out a breath. “You could have died. Last night. This morning. I can’t keep you safe.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“No, you can’t. You need to go home. You’ll still get your money.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
His eyes narrowed as he pulled something from his pocket.
The witchstone. It glowed with a faint blue light.
He bounced it on the palm of his hand. “This flared when the familiars got close. That’s how I knew where to find you.
It doesn’t react to whatever it is you’re doing, but if you are using magic in some way…
” He shook his head. “The demon will be able to taste it. It will draw the familiars too.”
He waited. For a confession, she thought. He wasn’t getting one. Only a fool would do something like that.
“I’m not using any magic.”
Not really.
Not like he meant.
He searched her face for a moment longer. “Go home.”
She shook her head. “Not until we find your men.”
With a frustrated growl, he pocketed the stone.
Then he reached out to cup the back of her head.
His fingers speared through her hair and he pulled her forward.
His free arm wrapped around her waist, tying her to his body as his mouth found hers.
His lips brushed against hers, startlingly soft, applying light pressure until she opened for him.
His tongue licked inside, tasting her, moving with devastating expertise.
God, the man could kiss.
She forgot about the familiars and the witch and the fact that he’d rejected her just that morning.
She forgot about everything except for the strength of his warm body, his hand anchoring her in place while he claimed her mouth.
Liquid heat pooled between her legs. Her hands came up to clutch at his shoulders.
When he finally lifted his head to draw air, his eyes glittered dangerously as they met hers. He muttered a curse and pulled away. Untangling his fingers from her hair, he released her gently, steadying her with a hand on her hip until she caught her balance.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “If something happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
When he pulled back, he swept a thumb over the crest of her cheek and winced. “Forget that happened.”
She glared at his retreating back. She didn’t understand him at all.