Page 59 of Hellish Witch

Though, if another patron killed you, they charged your murderer an extra cleaning fee. All in all, I was not reassured by their monetary investment in my survival.

Killian turned his wings on the barmaid, who stared dreamily after the demon enforcer, hearts in her eyes. I huffed under my breath, following the stubborn bastard as he made his way for the stairs in the far corner, dripping blood onto their floorboards like it was mere rain.

We climbed the creaking stairs, and I tried not to ogle his firm arse, lovingly hugged by his battered leather trousers.

Instead, I stared at the sinuous joints of his upper back where white wing met slate-purple flesh. A sheathed blade nestled between, running the length of his spine.

The enforcer had sexy back muscles, even bruised and cut up as he was. Given the weight and power of his feathered wings, his toned back was a fires-damned masterpiece.

He reached the top of the stairs, head swivelling as if he expected an attack from any closed door we passed along the corridor.

To be fair to him, it wouldn’t be the first time someone had popped out from a room and tried to stab me for no reason.

Since the inn edged the Bloodwood, hordes of passing travellers and merchants frequented the place. Many were as bloodthirsty as they were prejudiced. At least most knew the Hybrid Kingdom was close by and that we would defend and avenge our own with brutal force.

It made it far safer for our kind.

We walked to our room in silence, and Killian unlocked the simple blackwood door, raked through with claw-marks in another show of how safe the inn was.

He stepped in first, flaring his wings like a barrier. Shielding me, as always.

I huffed at the feathered wall. It only highlighted his overprotectiveness, or my apparent lack of defensive skill.

Or both.

“How many assassins are lying in wait this time? Ten? Twenty?” I drawled.

He folded his feathered beauties tight to his back, shooting me a wry smirk over an arched joint. “Such a brat,” he tutted. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

My cheeks flamed.

Of course, he didn’t mean it like that, but my stupid hormones were always up for a little delusion.

The room was a simple affair of redwood flooring and dark timber furniture, all courtesy of the Bloodwood. A dresser leaned against one scratched wall, a broken mirror resting atop it, shards littering the surface like pulled fangs.

A low bed lurked in the corner beneath a shuttered window. It gave us a peek at the dusky sky between towering, blood-drenched trees. At least a healthy number of furs layered the bed, in all shades and shapes, to ward off the chill prickling the air with night’s approach.

The bedside table held a plastic box with a faded red cross painted on top. A discarded med kit from the human realm was just the kind of reassuring thing you wanted to come as standard with your room.

For once, I was grateful though. Apparently, all I had now were the clothes on my back and the poisoned knives strapped to my thighs, my pack lost somewhere amongst the bodies of my victims.

“At least let me dress your wounds,” I said, holding up a hand to cut him off as he spun to face me with a protest on his lips. “Nope.”

His features hardened into what I thought of as his serious look, like an angry statue. “You need rest.”

“And you need to stop bleeding all over the floor.” I glanced pointedly at the worn flooring, already stained with various shades of blood, now decorated with an extra trail of bright red.

How did he have anything left inside him? All he’d done since I’d walked in on him in the bedroom at that party was bleed out.

He chuckled, the stupid, sexy sound I hated to love. “Why, sweetness, who knew you were so concerned about little old me?”

“Old is right. Little, not so much.” I stalked towards him, trying not to blush as my eyes dropped to the obvious bulge at his crotch.

I’d meant his frame in general, but of course, that wasn’t how it sounded. I was the queen of making things awkward.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, that damn smirk tugging up one corner of his mouth as he backed up. “So eager to get me into bed?”

I hissed and shoved the one uninjured part of his chest, forcing him to sit back heavily on the furs.

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