Page 3 of The Holly King's Sacrifice

I hear another crack, from a different direction this time, twigs snapping underfoot. I’m confident now that there’s something out there. I watch the gap in the trees with shallow breaths, a space between the deer skulls mounted around me.

And then I see one moving.

I bolt.

My feet are buried in snow before I realize what I’m doing, icy drifts dragging on every step. I breathe hard, the cold air burning my lungs. Before the thing in the woods can catch me, I’ve burst into the forest and am running as fast as I can, practically flying over the fresh powder.

Snow flies around me in glittering clouds of white, my body pumping blood to my extremities too slow. The adrenaline will keep me going for a while, I’m sure, but I don’t know how long I can survive in the cold—or stay on my feet. I have to get to a creek, a lake, somewhere to potentially break through the ice and drown.

I hear water up ahead—only a trickle, but enough to lure me closer. I wrench out a sob at the stabbing pain in my feet, frostbite already setting in, every inch of me begging to lie down and die.

But if I lie down, he’ll catch me.

The Holly King will have me after all.

I hurtle through another copse of trees toward the sound, and the moonlight greets me on the other side. It shines against an enormous waterfall, the snow freezing along its icicles. The moon is full, I realize, and I stand in wonder at the sight of the water.

There’s a spot just at the base of the waterfall where I see water.

My end. My salvation.

I rush toward it, refusing to let myself be caught by the Holly King even as the snow threatens to drag me down. I can’t feel my feet anymore, and I’m losing sensation in my fingers, too. But I’ll make it; I’m certain. I have no choice.

Footsteps in the woods behind me.

I struggle to push through the snowdrifts, my heart pounding. He’s there—the Holly King, with sharp teeth and antlers readying to spear me on their spikes. He’ll devour me whole, consume me body and soul. There’s no hope of salvation when caught by a demon, and it’s that hope I’ve been holding onto.

His breath hits my neck, more like cinnamon than rot.

An arm loops around my waist, pulling me violently backwards. I feel a warm, bare chest against my shoulder blades, and my pulse stutters. I try to fight, but I’m already so weak from the cold, and he’s so warm.

I’m in the Holly King’s clutches.

Who knows what will become of me now?

2

Aspen

IshouldhaveknowI wouldn’t be able to escape.

The Holly King is solid and warm, his skin practically burning me up as he hauls me over his shoulder like fresh meat. His big hand grips my thigh close to the curve of my ass, where no one has ever touched me before, holding me like I belong to him.

You’re mine, Aspen, my nightmare breathes in my ear.

From this angle, I can only see the scarred, bronze skin of a muscular back, a leather bandolier draped over it. I think this is where he would carry a weapon, but I occasionally see that weapon in his other hand: a big silver axe with a ruby-studded hilt. He keeps a tight grip on it, like he expects someone to come barreling out of the woods toward us.

He’s not going to let me go, no matter who comes to save me.

And I’m still cold—so cold. The only heat comes from the Holly King himself, and I’m greedy for it, clutching at his back as I give into where I know I now belong.

He’s going to devour me.

Body and soul.

He grunts at my touch, and I jerk my hand away, my whole body tensing up. In response, he tightens his grip on my thigh, his thumb pressing so hard into my soft flesh that I’m certain I’ll bruise.

He says nothing; I’m not sure if he’s even capable of speech.

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