Page 164 of Huntress

He was finally showing her what he was capable of. The power she’d known he contained was fully unleashed, and it rolled off him in waves, the magic answering his rage as though eager to please its master. Saint without restraint was terrifying and beautiful at once, and she didn’t know how to react to what she’d witnessed, or what she was still witnessing.

The blood of elves fell like rain, and the few that remained hesitated. Saint took one step forward, head low, eyes trained on his next target.

They fled.

Through the trees they ran, only to be hunted down and torn to pieces. Even when he’d gone beyond her sight, Elsie heard him tearing flesh from bone, limb from body, life from soul.

When he returned, chest heaving, his eyes still glowed a hellish red with demonic power. Coagulated black blood clung to his fur, shining with the glittery dust of shattered crystals. He looked at Elsie for a long moment, catching the slight scent of fear rising, then dropped to his belly. His size collapsed while inching forward to press his nose to her knee.

Saint let out a soft whine, and the tension eased from her shoulders. That power had been inside him all this time. If he’d wanted to hurt her, he would have by now. Her hands shook slightly, but she touched his face, avoiding the blood as she stroked his wiry fur.

It took a long while before he’d calmed enough to shift back, and when he did, the only blood on his body wasn’t his. He was perfectly fine; in fact, his skin practically glowed, as if the fight had somehow charged him up and erased the exhaustion of the past two months.

He scooted closer, laying his head in her lap, and Elsie slapped his shoulder.

“Ow! Why?” he whined.

“Because you didn’t have to get hurt!” she raised her voice. “All those times you took a blow for me, you didn’t have to! Don’t sacrifice yourself for me.”

He softened and sat up, pulling her into his lap and cradling her against his chest.

“I did have to. Sure, I have the power, but I’m still young, and you were standing too close. My control isn’t perfect, and I’d never risk hurting you. Hell, I try to avoid hurting your squad because you’d be unhappy. Do you not yet understand that I would do anything for you, Mistress?” he asked.

“You’re not a lord…”

“I’m not a lord.”

Gods protect her from ever meeting one. She shuddered, resting her head on his chest. “What were those things? I’ve never heard of a bog elf before.”

“Thousands of years ago, there was a battle in the swamps at the bottom of our lands. Hundreds of elves were killed, their bodies sinking under the weight of their armor to be preserved by the swamp. Some of them couldn’t let go, and their souls never moved on. The swamps eventually became bogs, making it harder for them to escape through the peat moss. My family has been keeping them contained for a millennium,” he explained.

“They were real elves.” Elsie looked toward the nearest body. “You killed them so easily. Why hasn’t your family killed them before now?”

“It wasn’t necessary. They’re not a threat as long as they stay in the bogs, and no one was keen on the risk of drowning while fighting undead elves on spongy ground that can give way to deep water at any step. They’re still plenty strong, but not as terrifying as they’d be if they were still alive.”

He buried his nose in her hair, breathed her in, and hugged her close. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Elsie sputtered. “I wasn’t scared.”

“Liar.”

After a while, Saint got up and gathered the torn-apart pieces of elf flesh into a pile. Elsie offered to help, but he refused, resigning her to the role of witness. Once satisfied he’d found every limb, head, and torso, he lit them on fire. She stood beside him, taking his hand and holding on tight until the last shred of flesh was reduced to ash.

“Come, I’ll show you my home. We’ll stay there for the night.”

The alpha’s home wasn’t far from the center circle, putting him right in the middle of things whenever his presence was needed. Saint’s home was just a hair bigger than the other houses she’d seen on their way in, and it was lovely. A once carefully tended garden was in full bloom with flowers that had reseeded themselves, along with the perennials that came back every year.

Fruit trees and bushes were strategically placed to take advantage of holes in the canopy, giving them as much sunlight as they could catch. A small, overgrown patch of grass was in the front yard, where Elsie imagined Saint as a puppy rolling around and playing.

He hesitated at the door that hadn’t been opened since his family was murdered. Looking down at Elsie, he bit his lower lip. “Stay here for a minute?”

“Of course.”

He opened the door and disappeared inside, and it was only then that she noticed he hadn’t yet reopened his end of their bond, explaining the ache in her chest. Her demon wasn’t ready to share his grief with her.

“It’s safe,” he said when he returned, but she couldn’t tell if it was relief or concern in his eyes.

Mimicking his behavior, she took off her shoes and set them aside. They stepped into an open, round space. Big windows brought in natural light, and lanterns hung strategically on the walls, with a beautiful hand-stitched tapestry between two of them. Hand-built sofas and comfortable chairs were comfortably arranged throughout, with soft crocheted blankets casually thrown over most of them. A large oval rug lay in front of a cold, dark fireplace.