Page 11 of Held

“No!” Briar said, wiping her mouth. “We just usually cook it first.”

“Oh.” Wick cursed himself silently. Slate had mentioned mortals and their tendency to cook everything.

Mortals and their blunt teeth,Slate had told him of his wife.Their sharpest ones couldn’t tear into a newborn rabbit. They even need to cook plants.

He didn’t understand why she had an issue with eggs. A raw egg seemed to go down easily enough. But it was clear that he knew even less about mortals than he thought he did.

Wick sat down at the other end of the nest. He had never realized how small it was until now, their knees almost touching despite his best attempts. He’d never had anyone in his nest before.

“You are traveling to the witch who gave you that amulet,” Wick said.

Briar touched it curiously. “I am.”

Wick paused. His older brother Slate was always telling him to be fiercer. Fewer questions, more demands.

“I will go with you,” he said confidently.

Briar startled. “You’llwhat?”

He gestured at the amulet hanging between her breasts. “If she made that amulet, she might know how to cure me.Trulycure me.”

He could hardly let himself hope. He had been to magic users of all kinds—even a fellow Skullstalker. And they all said the same thing: he was beyond hope. The blood frenzy was as deep in him as his bones.

“I can protect you,” he offered. “No one will hurt you when I am around. And I can help you with your curse.”

Briar stared at him. She shifted on the spot, and Wick’s nose twitched under his skull mask as he smelled the dried come on her thighs.

Then Briar burst out into laughter, curling over with the force of it.

“Sorry,” she gasped. Her cheeks were suddenly salty, and Wick frowned before he realized she smelled like giddy shock. Apparently, humans cried at strange times.

Her laughter trailed off into giggles. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

“Ididmean to find a man to accompany me through the forest,” Briar said, still chuckling. “You know what? Sure. A down-on-her-luck thief and her gentleman Skullstalker guard.”

“Wick,” he reminded her. He didn’t know how reliable human memory was.

“Wick,” she repeated, like she was surprised by it. She gave him an evaluating look, hidden quickly with another blazing smile.

“Well then. Time’s a-wasting.” She eased herself to her feet, gloriously bare. Then she took a step and winced. “Wow. That will be… anadjustment, if we have to do that every night.”

“I can just use the tip,” Wick offered. “If that is easier for you.”

Her brows rose. A pretty flush covered her cheeks, and Wick’s mouth watered.

Briar averted her eyes with another nervous laugh. “We’ll see what happens,” she said, bending to pick up her pants off the nest’s floor.

Wick watched her dress. He had a vague inkling that he should help—he had watched a mortal man do that for a woman once—but that was for a dress, which looked infinitely morecomplicated. Not to mention, he had no clue how to work those “buckles,” nor the laces on her shirt.

She pulled the laces closed over her breasts and turned to him. “Good as new. Do we need to do anything before we leave? Water any plants? Lock the door on the way out?”

Wick looked around the cave. He only had his nest. Plus a stack of shiny rocks in the corner that he liked to collect. But he could leave them here. Wherever he went, there were usually nicer rocks.

“No,” he said simply. “Do we need to lie together? Or should we wait until the sun goes down?”

Briar shifted from foot to foot, considering. Wick tried to focus on the pain she had shown before and not the sudden ache under his loincloth. He had never felt anything as good as Briar’s hole fluttering around him, trying to take him deeper.

“Let’s give a lady time to recover,” Briar said finally. She closed one eye at him again.

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