Page 85 of Huntress

Elsie’s lips parted; the whole world vanished, and only the two of them existed. Her chest was tight, the bond reaching and demanding, making it hard to breathe. He moved even closer, bringing his mouth to hers, hovering without touching. Her fingers closed, gripping his shirt. She could close that space, and gods, was it tempting.

“If that’s not what you want, all you have to do is reject our bond.”

Elsie blinked, the spell broken. She took a step back, though he kept her hand trapped.

“You don’t want to?” he asked, holding her gaze.

“You haven’t rejected it, either,” she huffed.

He cupped her cheek. “I don’t plan to.”

“But–” She scowled and shoved her free palm against his solar plexus. He grunted and let her go, rubbing the spot with a pained expression. “Why? So the betrayal will hurt that much more when you kill me?”

A flash of pain echoed through their bond, and it wasn’t from the blow. Her brows scrunched together in confusion, but he nodded.

“You got me. Can’t pull one over on you, Mistress.” His voice was cold. He grabbed his pajamas from the closet. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Elsie stood there long after the door closed and his footsteps in the hallway receded. Her hand drifted and pressed against the ache he’d ignited below her belly. She couldn’t let him get under her skin, no matter how good it felt.

By the time he returned, she’d already taken another cup of the sleeping draught and was out for the night.

The next morning, she got her wish. Wearing clothes that covered every inch of his body, Saint pushed her hard, channeling his frustration into their fight. Not one person in their little audience would look at her demon and think he felt anything but disdain for her.

She hit the ground for the third time and punched the dirt. Picking herself up, she threw herself back into the fight.

Elsie rolled her shoulder fast enough to turn a blow that would have put her ass right back on the ground into a graze that barely touched her. She threw her palm at his chin, but he backed up in time. Letting her own anger and frustration fuel her, she moved from one combination to the next, and for the first time, she matched his speed.

Saint’s bored expression sharpened into concentration, and he actually had to put in some effort. She blocked a blow with her forearm, knocking his fist aside, then landed a hit on his chest.

Forced back a step, he cocked half a grin her way. “Good. Do it again.”

Covered in sweat, dirt, and bruises, they took a break for lunch, followed by various onlookers, including Grady and Banks.

“That was amazing, Captain!” Grady praised. “You were moving so fast it was hard to keep track for a minute there.”

“Hey, Chantraine, can I borrow your demon?” the captain of the fourth squad interrupted. The furious look she gave stopped such questions flat.

After lunch, Saint took a pair of bo staffs and tossed one to her. He twirled his expertly, reminding her of how easily he’d handled that giant sword of his. She was far more comfortable with her daggers, but she wouldn’t dare admit that in front of the handful of people already gathering.

“Don’t these people have anything better to do?” she muttered to herself.

Saint started off slowly, teaching her as they cycled through different forms. After the first hour, she was defending herself pretty well, and by the time the sun dipped low in a peach-colored sky, her speed was improving.

“You’ve done well,” Saint praised. He put their weapons in the bag and shouldered it. For the second night in a row, they’d outlasted their curious audience.

“Why are you helping me?”

“It’ll be easier to keep you alive if you can better take care of yourself,” he answered, but something tingled at the back of her mind. A small part of what he’d said was a lie. Or maybe an unspoken truth lay behind it.

They grabbed their food, then returned to their room and sat in uncomfortable silence. Elsie took her mind off it by working on his new clothes until she went to bed.

The next day was more of the same. They stretched, then warmed up with a round of hand-to-hand sparring, then switched back to using the bo staffs.

Saint demonstrated moves she hadn’t seen before, explaining hand positioning and footwork required for building momentum for a proper strike. Elsie soaked it all in, practicing each part until he gave his approval.

She had no idea how long Albright had been watching them when she finally noticed him leaning against the fence. Saint followed the direction of her attention and thumped the end of his staff into the dirt.

“What does he want?” he growled, remembering Elsie’s mentor clearly.