Page 13 of Oath of Revenge

The last time there’d been surprise visitors here... She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, but the fear remained. Her hands hovered over her dagger sheaths as she focused on trying to mute the sound of her steps.

She stopped at the window beside the back door and peeked inside, her heart in her throat.

A great, hulking dark shape lay on the floor. She could barely see the shadow of it through the window. Her mind warred with her rising panic as she cautiously withdrew her hidden daggers. One pointed down to stab and the other she held with the blade along her forearm to block or slash. Some of the fear abated with them in her hands.

She breathed deeply, evenly, waiting and watching, but the threat didn’t stir. There was no sign of struggle or Grandma either.

She crept to the rear door off the kitchen and cracked it open. It creaked, making her freeze in fear as her heart skipped a beat. But the figure on the floor didn’t move. She bent her knees and turned sideways to fit her antlers inside, hugging the wall.

Her eyes fell on the body, and her breathing grew loud in her ears. Her body shook, but she couldn’t move. Terror flooded her, reminding her of the dungeon, the helplessness.

The herbal scents of the cottage flowed over her, calming her with each panicked breath until she was breathing long and slow. She had to assess the situation and think logically like she’d been trained.

On the floor lay a real-life Growler, a massive gray and black wolf, larger than any normal animal.

This was the type of monster that had killed her mom. Tightness pressed on her chest, and her pounding heart morphed the fear into anger at having her mother ripped from her.

If the Feral Forest’s magic didn’t kill intruders in the forest, the Growlers would. They only knew how to hunt, kill, and fuck, and those who met Growlers face-to-face didn’t live to tell the tale. She had to get rid of him before he jumped up and killed her or worse.

The thoughts raced through her mind as she took a deep breath. She would not give in to the fear or let this monster escape.

She launched herself at him, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and anger. She straddled his back, pressing the daggers against his skin with trembling hands. Her heart raced with adrenaline, urging her to hurt him, while her conscience—her grandmother’s voice—tugged at her, reminding her that violence wasn’t the answer. With each dig of the dagger, she felt torn between revenge and remorse.

The blades barely drew blood. It wasn’t nearly enough to hurt him for what his people had done to her mother. She wanted to hurt him, to make him pay for what they had done, but as she pressed harder against his neck, her hand trembled and her heart raced.

As she stood in front of the giant, wolf-like creature on the floor, the flickers of humanity in its blue and gray aura swirled like a stormy sky. Despite his monstrous appearance, there was something undeniably human about him. She’d never second-guessed taking a life before. Thinking back to past missions, even her first kill hadn’t given her this inner turmoil. Those jobs had all been thorough, cold, and calculated. She’d known exactly what kind of person she was hunting.

Although this Growler, this monster should be an automatic kill on sight… she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Call it an unspoken bond, a familiarity like reuniting with a long-lost friend, a shared connection, an animal sense of understanding how hard it was to live with a dual nature—whatever the fuck it was, she couldn’t kill him.

The scent of blood filled her nostrils, and she pushed aside her emotions to logically categorize the situation.

A thin layer of gray, black, and white matted fur oozed sticky blood in several places, not just from her knife. The fur was thick in some places like his chest but barely peach fuzz everywhere else.

Oh damn, how could a four-legged wolf have fucking biceps like a wrestler? A tail stuck out just below the waistline, exactly like hers. Her long, red tail swished from side to side, some part of her recognizing him.

She was not a Growler, deer, or rabbit, but some other abomination instead. Some deep part of her didn’t want to hurt him. Her mind shied away from questioning why not. That way led to more emotions, and she didn’t want to give into those.

He shifted on the floor underneath her, trying and failing to push-up onto four feet, and she stiffened on him.

“Don’t move, you fucking monster.”

Her gaze met the eerily golden eyes of the animal over his shoulder. Other than blinking slowly, he didn’t move, but the sense of familiarity made her whole body run hot.

She licked her lips, her mind stuttering to comprehend. Try as she might, she couldn’t kill him, not a wounded creature in her grandmother’s kitchen. He was a monster, one she’d run from for years. She’d never been this close to one. They’d never been this real.

Braced between her thighs, he was hot as lava and clearly sick with fever. How many creatures had Grandma patched up in this kitchen? She’d be mortified if Scarlet killed one, even a dreaded Growler.

She cleared her throat and moved to take her weight onto her knees and off his body, shifting her head to re-balance her antlers. What good was a Hunter who wouldn’t kill a monster? What the hell was wrong with her?

Disgust and anger warred within her.

She kept the daggers pointed at him, ready to pounce again if necessary. “What are you doing here?”

He blinked slowly and whimpered, the high-pitched whine of a dog. He struggled to lift his head, but he had no fight left.

Looking at his elongated face reminded her of who he was though...what he was.

The last time a Growler had pushed through the magical boundaries around the cottage, Scarlet’s mother had been killed.

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