Page 14 of Held

He flew down, his movements oddly stiff like he was holding himself back.

The amulet glowed around Briar’s neck. The closer Wick got, the smoother his movements became.

Briar closed her hand around the glowing amulet. He was holding himself back from a frenzy, she realized, most likely triggered by killing the squirrel. If she didn’t have the amulet…

Wick landed in front of her, shaking his shoulders like he was shaking off a bad thought.

“Here.” He held the squirrel out uncertainly, much like he had held out the egg.

She took it. Then she stared at him until it clicked.

“Oh,” he said. “Cooking.”

Briar patted his chest. It wasn’t as cold as it was last night.Probably because I’ve been cuddled against his chest for the last hour, she thought.

“I’ll take care of this part,” she assured him.

An admirably short time later, Briar had the rabbit skinned and rotating over a makeshift spit.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” she asked as she turned the stick.

“I do not hunger as mortals do. I will not need to feed for…” Wick paused to consider this. “Perhaps a week.”

“Really?” That went against every bedtime story she’d heard about Skullstalkers. “I heard you guys were ravenous. You know, eternal hunger, cursed to roam the land feeding on whatever was unfortunate enough to stumble into your lair.”

Wick stared at her. “Youstumbled into my lair. I did not feed on you.”

“Only because I got lucky.” She flicked the amulet around her neck, and they both watched it settle against her collarbones.

She meant it to be a joke. But Wick didn’t smile as he averted his gaze.

“Mortals do not know much about our kind.”

You don’t know much about mortals, either,Briar thought. He didn’t even know what theyate. He’d been living in the mortal realm for his entire existence—however long that was—and he still didn’t know basic facts about mortals. It must have been a very secluded existence. Or maybe he was spending time with other Skullstalkers. Briar had been told they were a solitary bunch, but what did she know?

Wick shifted in the dirt. He was sitting across from her, holding his knees like she had done in the cave this morning. Almost like he was trying to make himself smaller, Briar thought with amusement. He didn’t want to intimidate her. It was… sweet. Even if half his face was a skull, and he could rip her apart with one claw.

“So,” he said as rabbit fat dripped onto the fire below, throwing sparks. “Why were you being hunted?”

Briar made sure her smile was still in place. She hadn’t actually had to explain her situation to anybody yet. They either already knew, and she didn’t have to say a word, or they didn’t know, and she wanted to keep it that way. This curse was just another string of bad luck that Briar would do her best to forget about as soon as it was over.

No looking back. It was the only way to get through a life like hers. Do anything else, and you would go mad with pain and bitterness.

“The warlock who cursed me had a rich family,” she explained. “Not that it did me any good. I didn’t even get to rob him after I hacked his head off.”

Wick grunted. Briar watched him carefully. Most common folk didn’t like thieves. But Wick was hardly common folk.

“You desire riches,” Wick said finally.

Briar laughed. She was tempted to leave it there and let him believe what everybody else believed: that she was a greedy, black-hearted thief with a great rack. But who was he going to tell if she was truthful for once?

“I wantcomfort,” she corrected him. “You know. Food on the table. Warm place to sleep every night. Nobody knocking down my door asking for a fight. Money means I can have those things.”

“I have no money,” Wick pointed out. “I have comfort.”

Briar snorted. That nestwaspretty comfortable. She’d had pretty dreams last night, all sweetness and softness. She’d woken once to find herself swaddled in Wick’s huge arms and wasn’t even aware enough to struggle out of them. She’d drifted back to sleep full of a safety that only existed in her far-fetched dreams.

“I would have more,” Wick continued, watching rabbit fat drip into the flames. “If I could control myself.”

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