Page 15 of Untethering Dark

Well. Altes Geweih didn’t wear anything over himself for modesty, that was for sure. And why would he? He was older than society and civilization. He didn’t bow to its rules.

This power, this presence, was a force of nature that demanded respect.

That’s what Astrid wanted. She wanted to be the creature that stalked the wintry landscape at night, that made others tremble with fear. Something that gave even Altes Geweih pause—made him take note for a change. And she was so, so close. A few more potion ingredients and the final hag ritual and maybe she could’ve been all those things.

A fellow predator instead of prey.

It wasn’t fair that something so glorious would also be her demise. But that was the way of nature. Beauty in one hand, destruction in the other.

“I’ve no blood or meat to offer you but my own,” she said, proud her voice did not waver. Inside she was shrieking. Death had come to her front door, and it would show her no mercy.

The creature sniffed, head tilting. Deep within his orbital sockets, crimson lambent eyes stared back. Curious.

Outwardly calm prey must be a rare thing.

Lifting the plate of cookies, Astrid held it out in offering. “I have fresh-baked Springerle too. They haven’t had time to cure—that’s when the flavor really pops—but it’s my best batch. You can have your fill of those. There’ll be no one else to eat them when I’m gone.”

He took a step forward, lifting his hand toward her, long fingers tipped in equally long sharp claws. Up close, she noted that his deep brown fur tapered to near-onyx around his extremities—jaw, hands, groin, and hooves.

But the observation was fleeting.

With just one sweeping swipe of his hand, Altes Geweih could kill her.

Fear raced through her veins, skin prickled and tingling, muscles tensed and primed for flight. Astrid stamped down the urge to run and held her ground, waiting for the tearing of flesh under ruthless claws and teeth. No scream left her lips in that moment, but she wasn’t too proud to admit that it would come once the feasting began.

Take a cookie, you wicked beast.

Using the rounded side of a claw, he traced an icy path down her cheek, so smooth and gentle. Too gentle for something about to devour her.

The wind picked up, its biting chill cutting through her coat. It dislodged the hair she tucked behind her ear, and the snowy strands whipped between them.

With those same claws, the creature brushed back her hair, returning it behind her ear, but careful not to catch her on their sharp edges. He lingered, unexpectedly, lightly rubbing a lock pinched between two fingers.

“You offer yourself to me?” His mouth did not move, and yet the words manifested in the air, a deep, gravelly sound, almost echoing. As if he were speaking to her from the bowels of a cave.

Why did it sound like he didn’t mean as food? And why did she lean in, wanting to feel his touch on her cheek once more? Claws that caressed rather than ripped apart flesh were still dangerous. This couldn’t be a double entendre. A monster such as he wouldn’t want anything to do with her other than eat her whole and pick his teeth with her bones.

Whenever she caught a hare, she scratched between its tall, pointed ears and ran a hand down its sleek, furry back. Imbuing calming, drowsing magic with every scritch and stroke. That way when the flick of the knife came, the creature only knew comfort and peace. Never fear.

The way Altes Geweih curled her hair around his claw so gently could easily be the soothing touch of a butcher before the slaughter.

Don’t lose your nerve now.

“Yes.” She didn’t blink, didn’t avert her eyes. If she didn’t count the reach of his antlers, which curved skyward in the shape of a U, he was almost two heads taller than her. She was outmatched in every way—power, strength, size—but she would not back down.

Bending forward, he brought the point of his skull face—where the snout would have been had it flesh—a breath away from hers. Glowing red orbs held her eyes, locking her in place.She wouldn’t have been able to look away any better than a deer staring down headlights in the middle of a country road.

She lifted the cookie plate infinitesimally higher.

Just take one...

“Willingly?”

She blinked.

Willingly? Did anyone ever really want to be eaten?

“Do I have a choice?”

---