Page 33 of Summertime Hexy
“Oh,youtraitorous twig.”
The beast barrels toward me, tongue lashing out like a whip and slamming into the tree above my head, leaving a sizzling scorch mark.
Okay. Cool. I’m going to die because I wanted aesthetically pleasing moss for a charm jar.
Typical.
I throw myself sideways, crash through a thorn bush, and land hard on one knee. The creature turns, its nostrils flaring.
Just as I scramble to my feet, there comes a blur.
A shadow.
ThenDerek.
He hits the thing like a weapon forged from myth, slamming into its flank with enough force to knock it sideways. His coat snaps behind him like a banner of doom. His blade is in his hand—not for show this time.
“Run!” he bellows.
But I don’t run.
Because I can’t.
Because my heart is thudding in my ears and my legs won’t move.
I watch him fight.
And it’sterrifying.
Andbeautiful.
The creature lashes out, claws slicing air, tongue striking like a serpent. Derek moves faster. Strikes. Dodges. He’s fury and precision and silent rage all wrapped in shadow.
He drives the blade into the thing’s chest with a growl that sounds ripped from the earth itself. The creature lets out a horrible screech and dissolves—melting into mist and steam.
Silence falls.
My breath comes in gulps.
Derek turns to me, fangs out, eyesglowing.
“Are youinsane?” he snaps, voice like fire on ice.
I blink. “Hi.”
He stalks toward me.
“You went into the marsh alone.”
“I needed moss.”
“Youneeded—?!” He throws his hands in the air. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Okay, dramatic?—”
“You could’ve died, Hazel.”
“Youalwayssay that!”
