Page 52 of Hellish Witch

“Shhh.” Killian held up a hand, stopping along the grassy riverbank and cocking his pale horns aside.

I immediately swallowed the inane small talk I’d been making for the last hour as we’d trekked along the river. It hadn’t done a thing to ease the tense awareness between us since last night’s fiery dream and all the mind-blowing revelations that had come before it.

This morning, I’d blushed just looking in his direction, and that was before we’d bathed in the river and I’d reapplied salveto his wounds. Though, they’d mostly healed from the energy we’d shared in my dream.

He’d not said a peep about it, and I sure as hell-fires were hot wasn’t going to bring it up first. I still couldn’t process that for years he’d been beating up any exes who’d hurt me. Pretty much everyone in our kingdom had a rejection complex from being born an unwanted hybrid, so most break-ups ended up as vicious things.

Did that mean they deserved to be beaten bloody for insulting me? Probably not.

Now that I thought about it, it was only the handful who’d been truly cruel, or physical, that had actually disappeared.

Which I now knew meant Killian hadmurderedthem.

My brother clearly knew about it too and hadn’t interfered.

It was enough to make any sane demoness start hissing and clawing the faces off such psychotic, overprotective males.

I scanned the forest for whatever had triggered the incubus, struggling to stomp my inner turmoil into submission.

I might not have the senses of a full-blooded demon, but lately,othersenses had been sharpening. Ones I didn’t quite know how to define. Like the odd awareness of creatures around me when I couldn’t see, hear, or scent them.

I shuddered, stuffing the feeling away with the hungry wisps of darkness lingering inside me, even though it seemed tamed this morning. Possibly because of the things Killian had done in my sleep.

Alpha stilled beside the incubus, lifting his nose to the air. Like a summoned demon, the hellcat slunk from the tree-line, winding silently closer to us as she, too, scanned the river and the trees.

Anticipation sang through me. That was the danger of following the river; life needed to drink to survive, and we were right in their way.

We’d already spotted several animals sipping from the riverbank as we’d passed by, most baring their fangs in threat or stomping hooves aggressively. Some I could feel waited in hiding for us to pass before they revealed themselves. My weird senses latched on to them to deliver odd instinctual knowings—like that one of the delicate vine dragons was pregnant, and a hornless deer was looking for a mate. A phoenix had even swooped through the sky like a comet, blazing past as it scooped a mouthful of pink river water on the fly.

I heard it then. The rustle of bushes and crack of twigs. The squeak of a wheel.

The chatter of voices.

Killian planted himself between me and the sound. “Whatever happens this time, if I tell you to run, you’d better listen.” His voice was quiet, but the command rang clear.

Too bad for him, I was absolutely going to ignore it.

Glimpses of green and grey demons preceded a dark wooden cart pulled along by a scarred unicorn. The magnificent creature should have shone with a brilliant silvery glow in the patches of dappled sunlight. Instead, angry red lines cut through its once white coat, now tinted a filthy yellow and smeared with mud.

To see a unicorn mistreated was a crime against nature.

My heart squeezed as the procession drew closer through the trees. A small travelling band of merchants from the looks of the laden carts.

In the cities, demons used mechanical vehicles that were basically monster trucks. Out here in the wilderness between kingdoms, though, the landscape wasn’t kind to such tech. Using beasts was still the best way to travel, especially when transporting goods.

The travelling party slowed to a halt as they spotted us. We were in a weird standoff, the river at our backs as we faced thedemons emerging from the forest, half blocking our way forward along the bank.

Killian’s eyes narrowed on the unicorn, and he stalked towards the merchants. My brows shot up at his recklessness, but I hurried along behind him, heart pounding with each step closer.

Maybe we could have slipped past them without incident, but the sight of the abused creature wouldn’t have let me either. I reached out with my magic, a foreign stretching sensation jumbling my mind. It brushed over the unicorn, and the old male tossed his head, tugging at the chains restraining his face. The thin golden links wrapped around his muzzle so he couldn’t open his mouth to bare his dagger-sharp teeth.

I traced the length of his restraints, which tied him to the front of the convey of three heavy carts.

Killian halted a few feet from the waiting demons—all pure-bred orcs, by the looks of it.

They sized him up, with his countless scars, half-healed wounds slathered with cracked paste, and most prominent of all, his mixed heritage.

Thin lips curled in contempt. Brows lowered. Eyes tightened. Hands strayed to weapon hilts.

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