Page 19 of The Demon's Due
Morgan exhaled, relieved. Here, he could breathe.
A broad shelf of rock jutted out against the far wall. He’d dragged a mattress up here once, covering it with tarps whenhe wasn’t around. He pulled the canvas back now, revealing a simple bed and lowered her carefully onto the furs he’d left there from his hunts.Though he couldn't shift earlier, hunting was in his blood and he knew how to skin and prepare the fur.
In a niche in the wall, tins of food were stacked in neat rows. He’d stayed here many times, hunting, living off the land, escaping the suffocating noise of the world which had marked him as inferior.
But now the thought flickered, primal and insistent as he lit the candles in the nooks in the walls: he couldn't come to her empty handed. He needed an offering worthy of his mate. A hunt. A gift, before he laid her down and claimed her. Wolves nested. Did humans? He didn’t know.
He opened the old trunk Merrik had helped him lug up here, pulling out bedding-sheets, a quilt still carrying the faint smell of cedar. He spread them over the mattress, smoothing them with large, calloused hands.
Then, with infinite care, he tucked the sheets and quilt around Síofra.
Her dazed eyes fluttered open. Slender pink-tipped fingers reached for him instinctively. He caught one in his own much larger, darker hand engulfing hers and pressed his lips to her knuckles.
The scent of her hit him like fire racing through his bloodstream. His wolf prowled under his skin,demanding that he make her his. Even Ashmedai, for once, stayed quiet in the back of his mind, understanding this was not the time for commentary from the peanut gallery.
Morgan leaned closer, his voice low, rough. “Listen to me, Síofra. You are my mate. I will never see anyone but you. I know you’re in pain until I mark you-until I fill you and seal us together. But I don’t want to do that without your consent. Do you understand?”
Her unfocused gaze searched his pale blue eyes. Then, for the briefest moment, her eyes cleared. She sawhim. Whatever she found there made her nod. Slowly, she reached up, tugging at him to come closer.
He caught her wrist gently, holding her back. “Not yet,” he murmured. “I’ll be back.”
He tied a waterskin around his neck before stepping away. His body shivered, bones cracking and reshaping until the large sable wolf stood in his place.He wondered if the shift would be as painful as before but his body knew the path now and it was almost painless and smooth this time. He padded to the cave’s mouth and lifted his leg, spraying his scent into the wind.
“What are you-?”Ashmedai’s voice curled through him, bemused.
Marking the space,Morgan answered flatly.Keeps bears and other creatures away.
A pause, then the demon gave a dark chuckle.Interesting and primitive. Make it quick.
Morgan turned, ears flicking. Ashmedai’s presence whispered against his thoughts, a muttered chant in a language that scraped like old stone. Sparks shimmered across the mouth of the cave, weaving into a faint lattice that sealed the entrance.
“Just a protection spell,” Ashmedai said with uncharacteristic nonchalance.
Morgan huffed, shaking his fur, then padded back to the supplies. His wolf’s tail flicked restlessly. The fire pit Merrik had helped build stood ready, its smoke-hole leading straight through the cave roof. The scent of old cedar wood lingered from their visit a couple of days ago. There was more wood piled towards the back of the cave under a tarp.
Ashmedai’s voice stirred again, sharper now.Let us hunt.
And Morgan knew it was time.
The night was crisp with the scent of pine and frost, the world silver under the swollen moon. Morgan padded silently through the trees, paws sinking into the loam without a sound. His wolf’s nose caught the scent first-deer. A small group, grazing nervously at the edge of the clearing.
He crouched low, eyes narrowed with purpose. He wouldn’t take the strongest, nor a doe with fawns. His wolf picked out a smaller stag, separated just far enough from the others. Perfect.
With a burst of speed, he was on it. The chase was short. One snap of powerful jaws, one shuddering collapse, and the deer stilled.
Morgan shifted back to human form, breath steaming in the cold air. His hands moved quickly, skinning, dressing, splinting the carcass for carrying. Blood smeared across his chest and forearms, but there was satisfaction in the rhythm of it. This was something he could give her. An offering. A gesture older than words.
He hoisted the weight onto his shoulders, readying himself for the long trek back.
And then-
“For fuck’s sake,” Ashmedai growled.
Black smoke exploded across his skin, enveloping him in a rush. Wings tore free of his back, massive and burning at the seams. Morgan swore as his feet left the ground.
“Damn it, Ash! I had this under control!” he roared inside the demon’s head as they launched into the air.
“You take too fucking long with everything,” Ashmedai complained, unbothered, his voice rolling like smoke. “Such a slow mortal. And use my proper name. Show some respect.”
