Page 8 of Hunting Her
He leans forward, his tongue flicking out to caress my sole. I jerk my ankle from his grip, almost kicking him in the head. “What are you doing?”
He’s quick to grab my foot again, bringing it back to his lips. “Give me a moment, I wasn’t done.”
His tongue is ticklish against my flesh, and I squirm on the couch. My blood smears his lips, painting them a deep red. It only takes a moment before he releases me again, sitting back on his heels.
“I’m not here to entertain your fetish,” I hiss.
Damek chuckles. “Iz has a lot of fetishes, but feet aren’t one of them. Look at your sole.”
I wiggle my toes, grabbing my ankle and lifting until I can see the bottom of my foot.
Every scratch is healed, the skin knitted together without any hint of scarring.
“You have… healing saliva?”
“Our saliva does heal humans, among other things,” Damek explains.
I’m not going to ask about theother things.
“If you’d like me to heal the other foot, you’ll have to let me lick you again.” Izoran grins. “Or you can try to escape while heavily favouring one side.”
I kick my other leg up at him, and he catches my ankle. He begins the uncomfortable process of removing the glass and cleaning the wounds. His lips twitch into a wider smile whenever I wince, and I have to look away so I don’t kick that smile right off his face.
“Where will we do this hunting game?” I ask.
This is another way they can put me at a disadvantage. If we do it here, they have every demon on their side. It won’t be a hunt of four against one, because every person around will have it out for me. I need to convince them to take me somewhere else.
“We’ll go to your hometown,” Damek says.
I blink at him. “My… hometown?”
“Yes, wherever you came from. The place you know best.” His cocky smirk has me searching his words for some underlying point that makes this a disadvantage to me.
I come from a mid-sized city in Washington state, surrounded by mountains and forests. There are a thousand places to hide—unlike this castle—and I know my way around better than them.
“You’re giving me an advantage like that?” I ask cautiously.
He shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m confident I can win the bet either way, but I want you to feel like you have a fighting chance. It’s more fun that way.”
Grinding my teeth together, I yelp when Izoran’s tongue suddenly strokes my sole again. This time I’m paying enough attention to feel the gentle pull of my wounds healing. Neither foot hurts anymore, leaving only the gash in my arm.
I hold my forearm out to Iz. “Heal this, too.”
He stands up and grabs my arm gently, his long fingers caressing down. His nails scrape at me, but he never uses enough force to break the skin. “Happy to,” he says.
His eyes meet mine when he darts his tongue out, and he holds my gaze as he licks up my arm. It’s surreal to watch the skin heal behind his touch, acting like it had never been broken at all.
Brellan clears his throat, dropping a hand on Izoran’s shoulder when the demon tries to continue running his tongue up my arm, far past the site of the injury. “Do you have any more complaints or questions, or are we set to go?” he asks.
My body feels more alert and prepared than it has for anything in months. The healing might not have been limited to the physical wounds—my general aches and pains have vanished, and I have enough energy to feel ready for anything.
They’re going to regret healing me. It’s given me a chance to win.
“How do I know you aren’t going to go back on your word when I escape you at dawn?” I ask Damek.
He brings his hand to his mouth, puncturing the pad of his thumb with one sharp tooth. “A bloodbinding pact, of course. Give Brellan your hand.”
Izoran moves out of the way, and I place my hand in Brellan’s rough palm. His hands are almost twice the size of mine, roughand calloused from excessive use. He brings my thumb to his lips and bites down to create the same injury Damek gave himself. Then he leads my hand over to Damek’s.
