Page 42 of Hellish Witch

Shifting towards the hellhound, she flicked her tail, swiping it through the blood soaking Alpha’s wide jaw.

The hellhound snapped at her, but she didn’t even flinch, letting his fangs snap closed a hair from the furred tuft. She stared the great beast down, blood-red eyes swirling ominously bright in the gloom.

Alpha turned his back on her in clear dismissal. He yipped at me, shaking his head sharp enough for his long ears to sway adorably.

“I know, and I’m grateful for your help, and Cookie’s… But I need to do this alone,” I said, my voice dropping to a quiet whisper.

Alpha cocked his head, and jerked his muzzle at the hellcat in question as if to say, “What about her?”

I frowned. “Isn’t she with you?”

A chuffing laugh rumbled from the hellhound.

“Chatting with the beasties of the Bloodwood, kid?” Killian’s amused rasp had me startling.

He stalked from the bleeding trees with a wicked smirk and my pack in hand, the hilt of his dark sword peeking above his shoulder.

I swallowed thickly.

Could I actually understand the furry pair like they were saying things? Maybe some part of my mutt self had an animal affinity. Like Zoella.

I hoped so. Because if not, I was going crazy.

And my fractured psyche was too fragile for another blow.

I grinned wide, baring my fangs. “They’re less irritating than the alternative.”

“Hmmm, if only that were true.” He jerked his chin further along the exposed riverbank, and I followed, pulling a face behind his wings.

Picking my way past the fallen creatures, I tried not to trip on logs at the distracting sight of Killian’s back, the heavy muscles bunching and flexing under the weight of his neatly folded wings with each step, half-hidden by the broadsword resting along his spine.

The wind picked up, the breeze chilling my damp skin. Or at least, that was what I told myself the shiver was for.

The incubus set down my pack beside a fallen log and made quick work of dragging over a bunch of dry branches to stack together.

Alpha prowled over and slammed his dark paw on the ground. Lilac flames burst to life around the black fur. He pressed his paw to the wood, and his hell-fire swallowed the logs, casting an eerie purple glow.

“Thanks, Alpha.” With a relieved smile, I hurried closer to the demonic bonfire, right beside the huge log Killian rested on, my pack by his booted feet.

The hellcat sauntered over too, ignoring us all. She flicked her tail, and the tuft caught alight, stealing the lilac flames from the logs in an impressive trick.

Cookie looked at me and blinked slowly, as if to say, “I am impressive.”

She sat beside Alpha and lifted a paw, licking the enormous claws she’d unsheathed, as if her tail wasn’t softly crackling with deadly fire.

Her red eyes blazed with power, cut through with vertical pupils of the darkest night. Her fur absorbed the light until she was more shadow than creature. Long fangs threatened to rip out the throat of anyone stupid enough to get close to the beast.

I dug around inside my battered pack until my fingers closed around a small wax-lined pouch. I pulled it free, holding my leathery prize aloft. “Ah, here it is!”

Killian quirked a brow, kicking one ankle over the other as he leaned back on the log. His wings hadn’t been dunked in the river long enough to become fully waterlogged, but they’d still dried a little fluffier than usual, warmed by the pretty lilac flames before us.

The incubus looked like a demon at one with nature, relaxing in the great outdoors like he hadn’t almost died half an hour ago. Some of the deeper claw-marks still wept blood, but most had stopped.

I made my way over, gripping my salve bag tight. A frisson of nerves cascaded through me at the thought of laying my hands on Killian.

He barely looked up at my approach but widened his thighs as if I were going to stand between his muscular legs. At the last second, I chickened out, plonking myself down on the bark next to him. I fumbled with the pouch, dunking two fingers in and scooping out the cool paste. It tingled against my fingertips as I brought it to the first gash on Killian’s forearm, trying not to let the silver chains wrapping his forearms in ink mesmerise me beyond concentration.

It didn’t work. And all I could think about was how much they’d flexed when he held me down in my dream.

---