Page 46 of Huntress

By the time everything was checked out and they’d had breakfast, Elsie’s squad was too tired to even bother throwing the demon dirty looks or offer muttered insults they hoped their captain wouldn’t hear. They returned to their respective rooms in silence, ready for some well-earned sleep.

The demon didn’t even pretend he had enough energy to wash the day’s filth from his body. He padded on silent feet across the floor, kicked off his boots, and flopped onto the cot without a word. His face turned toward the wall, covering himself with a thin blanket, leaving only the mass of his dark curls flowing over the pillow visible.

Elsie snickered and took the bed.

Chapter eleven

Chapter 11

They had three hours to sleep, but Elsie woke early to enjoy the shower before her unwilling co-inhabitant started throwing attitude all over the place. When it was time, she stood over him with a deep frown. He hadn’t moved an inch since they’d returned. It was almost enough to make her feel guilty about waking him.

“Good morning, demon,” she said, unable to bring herself to insult him with the name Mutt before he even got a start to his day. He roused, looking up at her with bleary eyes. He slept lighter than she’d expected and rolled to his feet.

“I don’t like it when you stand over me like that,” he complained, but he didn’t need much persuasion. The prospect of a shower and food got him moving.

She’d already nabbed a cup of coffee for both of them by the time he exited the bathroom, wearing a fluffy white robe. Paper-pushers got all the best perks. He accepted his cup and glared out the window at a far-too-bright sun.

“Why did you wake me this early?” His voice dropped deeper and lower than usual when he was sleepy.

“I figured you’d appreciate some quiet before we meet the others.”

“Why would you assume anything about me?”

“Mental preparation time, to make peace with the bullshit we’re about to deal with. It makes starting the day less chaotic.” She gave him a once-over. “You probably needed it more than I did.”

He took a long swig of coffee, then sighed. “I’d rather have the extra sleep. I hate you so fucking much.”

Elsie blinked in surprise. There was no heat in his words. He’d said it, but he hadn’t felt it. At least not in that specific moment. It almost felt like playful banter, but she wasn’t foolish enough to respond in kind. He’d probably consider it an insult, or decide she’d stepped out of line and snarl at her.

“Don’t tell me demons don’t get up this early?” She said, but he didn’t answer. A stab of pain hit her heart, and she had to stop herself from reacting outwardly. It was his pain, not her own. “I’m sor–”

Would you just shut the fuck up? If you apologize to me one more time, I think I’ll lose my mind.” Any softening of his personality vanished, and his expression turned into a stony glare.

Elsie fell silent. She’d hoped to start the new day with a better attitude than yesterday. Looked like she’d already screwed up any chance of that happening. It didn’t matter. His surliness took a backseat to the importance of the mission.

“Understood.” She set down her coffee and separated her hair into four big chunks before quickly braiding it. Braids held her thick, unruly hair longer if it was wet from the start. Elsie was well aware that it was a skill issue. Perrie could get her hair to obey with a few expert twists of her fingers and pure willpower that mystified the captain.

He stripped off the robe to change, and Elsie pivoted to face the wall.

“Get dressed in the bathroom and give us both some space and privacy,” she muttered. He turned toward her in the middle of buckling his belt, still shirtless.

“Does my body displease you? Or does it bother you to see a little skin first thing in the morning?” he questioned. “What’s the point of false modesty? We don’t have a private bathroom in the compound, so you may as well get used to it, Mistress.”

“Elsie narrowed her eyes at him, then moved closer. He took a step back, a scowl forming on his full lips.

“What now? I said get used to it, not get comfortable.”

“Your wounds,” she replied. Faded to thin pink lines against his dark skin, they were almost entirely healed. The sudden urge to reach out and run her fingers across each line was so disconcerting that Elsie stopped short, mentally scolding herself. What the hell was her problem? Touching the demon was off the table; it was never going to happen.

“You’re overreacting. I told you, I’m healing,” he grunted, rolling his eyes, then pulling the plain green T-shirt over his head, hiding the scars.

“Is there any residual pain? I can get you some–”

“Back off, alright? What’s gotten into you?” He corralled his curls into a large bun on top of his head, ignoring the tendrils that escaped to frame his face. “Stop pretending you care. It’s irritating.”

Elsie scowled, stuffed her things back inside her bag, then turned toward the door without looking at him. “The others will be waiting.”

She left the door open on her way out, uncaring whether he followed. She hadn’t been pretending, but she wasn’t going to waste her time trying to convince him otherwise. The wriggling dirtiness of being used burrowed into the deepest reaches of her last nerve.