Page 19 of Huntress

“My name is Elsie.” She stopped herself from taking another step. His back was covered in raised welts and open wounds, which were surrounded by deep bruises. She studied him for several seconds, noticing how tenderly he moved and how delicately he treated his swollen arm. Probably broken, which explained the limp in his demon form. Gods. She’s the one who’d broken it.

“Why aren’t you healing?”

“I am.” His voice was low and surprisingly deep.

Elsie chewed the inside of her lip. If he was healing, these wounds had started out much worse. He pulled on one of the olive-green T-shirts provided with the uniform, then dropped his pants without checking if she was still watching. She was, with the critical eye of a rookie healer. The injuries extended down his lower back, curling around his hip and continuing down his left leg. She had a feeling she’d find them all over his chest and stomach as well.

“This is unacceptable,” she murmured. The state of this demon’s body was stirring up a surprisingly deep anger. She’d already have issued a beat down to anyone who’d done the same to one of her squad mates.

“Clairemont needs to be fired for what he did to you.”

“Why bother? You enjoyed your turn,” he said dismissively.

Elsie had no response that wasn’t a lie. She had enjoyed how far he’d pushed her, and how hard she’d had to fight.

The hunters were supposed to be the good guys, but his wounds were nothing more than vile torture. Only a coward would beat a creature incapable of fighting back.

“Clairemont is such a bastard. How often did he do this to you?” she asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters.” It shouldn’t. She shouldn’t care. She couldn’t imagine a single member of her squad would be disturbed by what she was seeing right now. They were demon hunters, and he was a demon.

“Every day.”

“For how many days?”

Elsie wasn’t sure why, but it felt important to her. She hadn’t exactly been lied to, but no one had been forthcoming with the truth. If her promotion meant anything, they’d no longer keep her in the dark about the shadier practices that impacted lives. Those of their enemies, but especially the lives of her comrades. Her lips twisted into a frown. It was a bit like being woken by a bucket of ice water.

“I lost count.”

He pulled on a pair of camo pants, cinched the belt in place, then turned to face her. A shaggy dark beard with a matching mustache hid most of his face, and thick lashes fringed brown eyes that weren’t quite as dark as she’d originally thought.

His gaze started with her messy hair, strands falling loose from the braid she’d plaited hastily that morning. He slowly took in every inch of her, but he wasn’t lewd. His eyes lingered in all the wrong places for that. Sure, he stared at her thighs, but also her hands and the muscles in her arms. It felt more like he was getting a measure of her strength.

“You’re smaller than I expected.”

“You had expectations?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Someone a little more intimidating. They called you a reaper, but there’s no ethereal magic on you.”

The sneer returned to his lips, but Elsie couldn’t drop her gaze. The inner fire shone in his eyes, and she was beginning to recognize it as the telltale sign of his anger.

“I’m not able to access my magic.” She touched the seal on her throat. He followed the movement, but there was no curiosity in his expression. “I didn’t know about you, and I didn’t ask for a companion.”

He rolled his eyes in response.

“It’s true. We weren’t even here. My squad has been in the field for the past three weeks. We got back last night.”

“Companion, slave, what’s the difference?” He tugged at the collar around his neck, the spikes still poking against his skin. “I do not accept it, Mistress.”

“It’s Elsie. And no, true companions aren’t slaves. They’re with their chosen reapers of their own free will,” she reiterated. “We don’t have to accept their demands. I have a plan.”

“Oh, do tell,” the sarcasm dripped from his voice.

“After we shower. There’s blood and sand in my hair, and you smell like you haven’t washed in months,” she said, then bit her tongue and suppressed a groan when his look turned scathing. Did she have to be such an insensitive twat?

“I haven’t been afforded the opportunity.”