Now such laws and prohibitions don’t seem to matter one bit. Who cares about the protection of the law when I’m about to be eaten by an ogre?
The ogre’s lips curl into a wicked smile, revealing even more of his razor-sharp teeth. He staggers his legs, sending the ground thudding yet again.
“Get back,” the Huntsman barks, and it takes me a moment to realize the order was for me. He throws his arm out in front of me, but with his hand cuffed to mine, it only makes me hit myself in the stomach with my own arm.
I grunt, and he tosses me a wide-eyed look, gaze moving from my face to my cuff. “Sorry,” he mutters, then ushers me behind him, angling his arm to allow me to be fully hidden behind his broad back. “I’m going to have to ask you to retrieve that key now.”
A spike of alarm rushes through me. “What?”
“Reach around the front of me and get the key.”
“Get it yourself!”
“I have to fight him! Do you want to be attached to me when he attacks?”
I glance around the Huntsman’s torso just in time to see Murtis bend into a crouch, readying himself to charge us. “Get the key. Now.”
That’s all I hear before the ogre races forward.
The Huntsman retreats, forcing me to lurch back in turn, but we only make it three steps before Murtis’ enormous hand closes in on the Huntsman’s head. Even with his missing finger, the ogre’s grip seems impossibly strong. Time almost stands still as I watch with horror, bile rising in my throat as Murtis wraps his fist around the Huntsman’s neck. A small part of me wonders if I should let it happen, let the ogre kill my captor. But that sentiment is quickly burned away by shame. Guilt. Disgust.
I may not like the Huntsman or appreciate his attempt on my life, but I’m not a killer, despite what he thinks. And if I let him die…
My eyes widen as Murtis squeezes harder. There’s something large and furry working to pry the ogre’s hand from around the Huntsman’s face. Enormous claws sprout from the brown mass. Is it…an arm?
“The key,” the Huntsman says through gasping breaths, his voice strangled, muffled behind the ogre’s palm.
Without a second thought, I swallow my panicked squeal and press myself against the Huntsman’s back. With my free hand, I reach around to the front of his britches…and then plunge my hand beneath his waistband. This may not be the time for modesty, but my cheeks heat nonetheless as my palm slides down the warm front of him, discovering yet more proof of what I glimpsed from the other side of his linen trousers. I angle myself closer to his ribs to get a better reach, grasping certainthingsI really ought not to grasp. He doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed, for he has far more pressing matters to attend to than being unceremoniously groped by his captive. Still, my work is made all the more difficult by how he shifts and lurches in his attempts to fight off the ogre.
I hazard a glance up and see the furry brown mass inside Murtis’ fist has grown. In fact, that’s all Icansee. The Huntsman’s head is now fully obscured.
His voice reaches me all the same. “The key, damn it!”
“I’m trying,” I bite back, renewing my efforts.
“I can’t fully shift with these cuffs connecting us.”
“I said I’m trying.” I reach farther, deeper. Finally, the feel of metal reaches my fingertips. With the key grasped between my fingers, I pull my hand free. I take a step back, the key trembling in my grip. I’m not sure who to unlock first—myself or him. If I free myself, I can run, get far away before the Huntsman can even think to find me again. Now that I know floral aromas bother him, I might have an advantage.
But can he shift with the cuff still around his wrist? I know fae can shift between their seelie and unseelie forms in full clothing, causing no harm to their ensemble even if they sprout wings or claws through them. But do metal cuffs count?
“I better not regret this,” I mutter as I shove the key into his lock first. My heart slams against my ribs as the sounds of struggle increase. Finally, the flat end of the cuffs comes open. With a tug, I unhook the curved side from around his wrist.
The Huntsman swings his newly freed fist into the ogre’s belly. I slowly back up a few steps, eager not to attract Murtis’ attention—
Too late.
The ogre’s yellow eyes snap to mine. With a growl, he releases the Huntsman’s neck. All I catch is a blur of brown fur, linen, and skin before Murtis rakes sharp green claws over the front of the Huntsman’s torso. A spray of blood strikes the ogre, and the creature tosses the bounty hunter aside like he weighs nothing more than a rag doll.
Then Murtis lunges for me.
8
ASTRID
All I can do is run. I don’t have time to free myself from my cuff. Instead, I let the loose end dangle from my wrist and pour all my attention into getting away from the charging ogre. I don’t dare look back, not even as the sound of shuddering bushes and crushed flower beds gains on me. Finally, I make it to the sunstone arch and dart through it, my sights set on the alley between Lust and the hotel’s perimeter wall. Panic crawls up my throat, setting my pulse pounding, prying tears from the corners of my eyes. If I can get to Lust, I can call for help. So long as I can find someone I already know—someone like Madame Desire—I don’t have to worry about making a poor impression in my perilous emotional state.
I reach the mouth of the alley just as I hear a loud thud behind me. Only then do I hazard a glance over my shoulder. Murtis is half a dozen feet away, and the sunstone arch lies in ruins in his wake. I pump my legs faster and sprint down the alley. Despite my cries for help, my every word is swallowed by the sultry music still emanating from behind Lust’s closed shutters.
