Page 28 of Untethering Dark

Altes Geweih was crouched on top of her cottage’s snow-laden shingles, staring down at her with bloodred eyes, at the heart of her home. A home that should’ve been protected.

How had he gotten past her new wards? The magic in them was strong—perhaps not enough to kill him outright—but he should be screeching in pain right now, writhing on the ground as flesh burned and peeled from bone. Mutter had drilled this spell work into her from a young age, past the point of making mistakes. It was so engrained into her muscle memory she could andhadmade the damned things in her sleep.

Had her foolish gratitude muddled the intention of the spell?

All the courage she scrounged up the night before fled her, but she stood her ground, a plate of cookies in one hand, her prepped teleportation spell in the other. Just a sharp flick of her wrist and the portal would be cast. If he changed his mind about eating her, she only needed to reach it before he reached her.

Gaze steady, he slunk forward with a long-limbed grace and dropped from the rooftop, barely making a sound or disturbing the snow. He sniffed the air, then cocked his head to the side, almost catlike. “Youareafraid.” He sounded more surprised than he had any right to.

“Wouldn’t I be foolish not to be?”

“Why do you think I’d devour you now, if I didn’t before?” He edged away from the cottage, circling her slowly on all fours. Though he prowled round and round like a predator, there was a relaxed set to his shoulders and a curious glint in his eye. Nothing about him seemed coiled to strike.

Still, she turned with him, tracking his every move, not giving him her back. “Can you stop doing that?” There wasn’t heat in her voice, but it was firm. Under more controlled circumstances she might’ve thrilled in being stalked and claimed, but there wastoo much uncertainty between them. “You’re making me feel hunted.”

He stilled. “I’m sorry. It’s an old habit.”

Now that he stopped moving, Astrid relaxed her hold on the plate of cookies, coming away coated in crumbs and icing. One of the treats on the outer rim had fallen victim to her fear, pulverized under clenched fingers. She breathed in, then out, willing her racing heart to settle, knowing how tantalizing it was to the beast before her.

He bowed his head, breaking their eye contact as he climbed over the gate, putting a little distance and the fence between them. And as he moved, she kept her gaze respectfully above his waistline, keenly aware—after a cursory, accidental glance—how the fence slats framed certain bits. On the other side, he crouched back down, draping his long, clawed hands loosely over his knees, a softness in his posture that wasn’t there before. “Is this better?”

Astrid nodded, a small smile forming as ease replaced the tight knot of fear in her belly.

The witch leaned against the gate now, and with the weary, heavy-bodied stance of someone who’d been on their feet all day...or someone who’d just had the life scared out of them.

The thrill of the hunt was engrained in Gudariks. When he crept onto the roof, waiting for her to emerge from her home, he thought only of prowess, of getting as close as possible without detection. But the witch wanted something gentler from him.

Slowly, he rose to his full height, so as not to cause alarm, and waited several beats, watching for signs of distress. Sensing none, he said, “I’m not going to eat you.” His gaze dipped brieflyto the plate of icing-coated cookies, tempted instead by the thought of snatching a few.

“You’ve lived on a steady diet of meat,” she replied, and although she jutted her chin defiantly, her tone was light and teasing. “I’m not tempting your wrath by offering sweets instead?”

Catching her eyes, he leaned in, folding his arms on top of the gatepost, ignoring the irritating burning sensation that accompanied it. Just a few centimeters to the left and they would be touching, but more importantly, she hadn’t pulled away, and that was more than worth a little discomfort. “An interesting question. Whydo yourisk it?”

“I wanted to thank you for bringing Fritz and Liesel safely back to me.” She blushed prettily and gestured toward the goat pen, where two pairs of furry ears poked over the topmost slat, twitching their way. Clever creatures knew they were being talked about. “And you seemed to like the Springerle. I thought maybe you’d like to try other Plätzchen.”

“I did like them.” Tilting his head, Gudariks studied the woman, and the way she bit her lower lip as she smiled. Or met his eye one moment, averted hers the next. She was nervous, but no longer from fear. All they needed was a redo. “It was thoughtful of you to offer something new.”

“Well, go on,” she nudged his arm with the edge of the plate, fighting off a grin. “Try them. Tell me which is your favorite.”

He bent to examine the confections and their various shapes and decorative designs, careful to keep his antlers from knocking into her. If she wanted to touch them, she’d not have far to reach. He’d rather like it if she did. The last time he recalled being this close to another being without eating them was before the Visigoths sacked Rome and returned home with tales of battle and glory.

But that was so, so very long ago. Perhaps too long since he last enjoyed the thrill and comfort of another’s touch. It was safer though, keeping his distance. Curiosity, letting others near, had come back to bite him so many times. Humans were often fickle, violent creatures, and the ones who weren’t, always died much too soon. One way or another, they found a way to cause him pain.

The witch wasn’t human. Not entirely.

But not immortal either.

He shook his head, refocusing on the treats.

There appeared to be two different types arranged on the plate she held. In one precise motion, honed by countless years of practice, Gudariks hooked a claw around one shaped like a tree, and swiped it into his palm without smearing the speckled white icing on top or gouging the plate below.

From there he pinched the cookie between two claws and lifted it to his mouth, humming approvingly as he sampled it. He tried a simple round one next, covered in glaze, not too proud to lick his claws clean afterward.

Amongst the spices and sugary confection, the witch’s eagerness, nervousness, and gratitude sat so sweet on his tongue. The intention to impress him was kneaded into the dough and a warm feeling tightened in his chest.

“They’re all my favorites.”

She cocked a skeptical eyebrow and propped a hand on her hip. “Be honest.”

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