Page 31 of Held

Briar asked, “What do they smell like?”

Wick said nothing. His head raised further. A cool breeze rolled around the clearing, making Briar shiver.

“Snow, I would imagine,” she said, louder.

Wick startled. He looked back at her, blinking as if she had awoken him from a dream. “What? Yes. That’s… mostly right.”

Briar narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you acting strange?”

“I am not.” Wick frowned. He looked up again, even though the mountains weren’t visible from here. “I just haven’t smelled them in a long time.”

“Oh?” Briar dropped to her knees in the moss, wincing as the movement made her cunt throb—and not in a good way. Wick’s length was heavenly, but too many days of use had made it difficult to sit down.

“Why not?” Briar continued.

Wick was silent. His wings flexed distractedly as he stared in the direction of the mountains.

“I was born there,” he said. “I have not been back since I was small.”

Briar thought about saying something humorous, like not being able to imagine him small. But Wick looked so lost in thought. She patted the moss next to her instead.

“Well, let me take your mind off it,” she said, her voice dropping low and sultry.

Thatjolted Wick out of his thoughtful stupor. His head snapped toward her so fast that Briar giggled.

“Eager,” she commented. She sat up on her knees, grateful for the soft moss after many nights on the hard dirt. “Come on, big boy. Light my fire.”

He looked at her with that confused look that meant she had said another mortal phrase he didn’t understand, but he dropped obediently to his knees in front of her. Briar took a moment to bask in it; even on his knees, he still towered over her. His arms were as thick as her whole body, his claws as long as her fingers. And yet he waited for her assent to touch her.

Briar grinned. “So. We’re going to do something different tonight.”

“Different,” Wick repeated.

His cock was already getting hard under his loincloth. Briar eyed it joyously and then focused back on his face.

“You might have noticed you aresignificantlylarger than me,” she began. “And you know how much I enjoy that.”

“You have smelled less of fear the past few nights,” he agreed.

Briar held her smile in place. She didn’t want to be reminded that he could smell her emotions, and she definitely didn’t want to think about why she wasn’t scared of him anymore. She should be scared. Scared was asensibleemotion when she was dealing with a literal monster. And yet, she couldn’t help but trust the bony bastard.

“Nevertheless,” she said. “I don’t think I can take your cock tonight.”

Wick’s tail flicked in concern. “But your curse?—”

Said curse flared quietly in Briar’s gut. Not painful, not yet. But warm enough to make itself known, creeping forever toward her heart.

“Not inthathole,” Briar continued, cutting him off. “But thankfully, I have several. And thankfully, the curse counts ass fucking as sex.”

Wick’s tail stilled. For a moment, he said nothing, staring down at her while his fiery eyes swelled with light.

“Oh,” he said finally, his eyes smoking with heat. “Good.”

Briar was feelingespeciallygrateful for the moss as she trembled against it some time later, her knees quaking with the effort of holding her up.

Her arms had given out several minutes ago. She crouched with her cheek pillowed on her arms, groaning with each pass of Wick’s giant fingers.

“How does it feel?” she panted. “Huh? Do I feel good on your fingers?”

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