Page 9 of The Holly King's Sacrifice

This demon, I mean.

He’s not a man.

I follow the Holly King as he guides the creature out of the stable and into the snow, where it blends in perfectly—besides its red eyes. He turns his attention on me, then, and extends his hand.

“Come, woman,” he says.

I take a hesitant step toward him, and he jerks me forward by the hand. Before I can protest, he’s sliding his hands under my pits and lifting me to settle me bareback on the creature. I inhale sharply, expecting it to be uncomfortable as it might be on the bony spine of a horse—but I settle in nicely on this animal, its wide, fluffy back providing plenty of support. The leather reins are just in front of my hands, waiting for someone to take control.

I consider it for a moment. I’m armed, well-dressed, and I have a ride out of here. I could take this creature and ride off into the woods, and I’m certain I could find my way home.

But why would I go?

They would shoot me on sight; they told me as much when I was hauled out of Manistique.

I have no home now.

And already, the Holly King is reaching around my hips, then grabbing the creature’s fur. He mounts the beast in one fluid motion, settling himself close behind me, his legs framing mine. I resist the urge to nestle back against his warm chest, the cold biting into the tiny bits of exposed skin. The Holly King remains shirtless, his arms coming around me to take the reins.

Then he clicks his tongue, and the beast beneath us moves forward, toward the gate. The doors open for us, and I realize we’re going alone. For some reason, I thought we would have a hunting party—in my town, we never go out alone—but it will just be the two of us.

And he doesn’t want me talking.

So I shut up and face my fate

We ride for what feels like hours.

Cut off from talking to him, I take to focusing on how his body moves against me, how his heat seems to radiate into my bones. The movement of the animal beneath us shifts the Holly King’s hips closer, and even through the layers of clothing, I can feel the press of the monstrous thing between his legs. I’ve heard stories about demons—how they’ll despoil human girls, laughing as they punish us for our impurities.

I asked questions about that in Manistique—how we would even know such things when we rarely left town, and when none of our offerings ever returned in the summer. I’ve heard so many tall tales about the Infernal Legion, but I’ve never actually seen a demon in person until now, nor have I met anyone who has.

I start to get antsy as I narrow my focus to where the Holly King touches me. His body heat warms me as a light snow starts to fall, blue-white snowflakes melting before they touch him. I look up at the pale white sky, frost settling in over my light hair.

The Holly King’s arm comes around my waist, big and strong. I’m not all that small, and his embrace is wide enough to engulf me, yanking me back against him as I exhale with a puff.

“It is too cold for a weak creature such as you,” he rumbles into my hair. “Stay close or you’ll freeze.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just leave me in the village,” I mutter.

“Because if you do not prove your worth, then you shall be sent back to your people…and your people are the reason you landed in my forest, and in my bed.”

“You don’t send people home,” I say. “I would know.”

“I have no obligation to answer your questions, woman,” he says. “But you should believe me when I tell you that you do not want to fail this trial.”

I shut my mouth again for a few minutes. The Holly King’s arm stays around my waist, and I allow it, letting myself melt against him. The frost in my hair begins to melt, too, dripping down my black puffer coat. The Holly King says nothing when I rest my head against his chest, my hair almost certainly wet on his bare chest.

“What are you going to do with me?” I ask. “You haven’t really told me about the trial.”

“We go to hunt for the feast.”

“I’m not going to be any use on that front.”

“That isn’t the point,” he growls.

I don’t try arguing with him; instead, I lower my voice, looking over my shoulder. “Then what is?”

His grip tightens around my waist, but he doesn’t look at me through his bone mask.

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