Page 28 of To Hunt a Demon King

My stomach lurched a little. I had forgotten about Beltane, and the fact that Mama, if she was even safe, would be celebrating it alone. I had told Vera I would visit her after Beltane as well. I supposed that would never happen now.

“What’s wrong?” Hunt asked, frowning at me.

“Nothing,” I said. “Just…” I trailed off, trying to decide how much to tell him. He already knew about Mama, so I supposed that was safe enough. “I usually went to the May Day festival with Mama on Beltane,” I said, remembering her excitement for the holiday. Beltane represented the beginning of summer and was one of the major witch celebrations held throughout the year. While witches celebrated with a bonfire and ceremonies for the Goddess, the mortals celebrated with feasting and dancing around an intricately painted maypole. It was one of my favorite holidays, and this would be the first time I didn’t celebrate it with Mama.

“You miss her,” Hunt said, a statement rather than a question. I nodded.

“She sent me away for my safety,” I said. “I know that. But I’m angry with her for keeping things from me. For not explaining.”

“What things?” Hunt asked, sounding genuinely interested. I looked up at him, and he met my eyes. He seemed sincere, not smirking or joking or poking fun. I smiled faintly.

“Things I can’t tell anyone,” I said with a sigh, looking away as those curling beasts in me roused a little more.

“I’d keep your secrets, Red,” he said, raising his hand to my face. He cupped my chin gently in his fingers, lifting my eyes to meet his. The gesture was unexpected and somehow intimate.

“Why?” I asked quietly. “You don’t even know me.”

He frowned, shrugging. “I don’t really know,” he said, brows furrowing a little as he studied my face. “I guess I just find you...”

“Interesting?” I finished, giving him a small smile. He laughed, a deep vibration running through his fingers into me. It was a nice sound, and I hoped I would hear more of it.

“Something like that,” he agreed, giving me a genuine smile now. It lit his eyes a mossy green, and my stupid stomach gave a little flip.

Somehow, he made me want to tell him everything, and I wondered what it was that made me trust him. He had saved me from peril, sure, but it felt like more than that. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn’t really close to that many people. Or maybe it was that he was slowly and steadily tearing down the walls I kept around myself.

I bit my bottom lip to keep my secrets in, shaking my head and drawing his hand away from my chin. For a moment, he held my fingers as if wanting to protest further. His fingers were warm and calloused, and I was strangely disappointed when he sighed and lowered his hand, flexing his fingers a little as he released me.

“Let’s move,” Hunt said, the gentleness and warmth gone from his voice. He strode off into the wood, and Akela nudged my hip as if encouraging me to follow. I sighed, lamenting the loss of the moment of truce we had just carved for ourselves as I trudged after him.

He was silent for a long time, barreling his way through the trees in front of me, slashing at roots and branches that got in his way. I trudged after him in silence for a while, trying to lull the magic inside me back to sleep. Eventually, I got bored of the silence.

“What will that witch do with your blood?” I asked, panting a bit as I worked to keep up with him.

“Magic,” he replied darkly, not looking back at me as he pounded on ahead. He seemed angry, but I didn’t think his anger was justified, just because I had chosen not to confide in him.

“What kind of magic?” I asked. Blood magic was forbidden in the Witchlands. It came too close to demon magic, as it could be cast with very little consequence to the user. Only the blood giver paid a price and, in eons past, this had been death.

“Blood magic,” Hunt replied again, finally slowing his pace so I could catch up. He smirked at me, as if intending to annoy me with his obtuse answers.

“I know that,” I snapped, scowling at him. I missed having the cover of a hood to hide beneath. I felt very exposed like this, with his eyes intent upon me. “I mean what kind of blood magic uses mortal blood?”

“Not many,” Hunt said, hopping over the roots on the floor of the woodlands as nimbly as a cat. “Witches who practiced primarily used demon blood in the past.”

“Really?” I asked, shocked by this answer. “Is that why the witches anddemonsare still at war? Why they created the Bloodwood?” Hunt shrugged noncommittally.

“I’m sure that’s part of it,” he said. “There’s a lot of history even I don’t know.”

“You mean your demonic knowledge has finally failed you?” I gasped, feigning shock. Hunt chuckled, and I felt inordinately pleased at having lifted him from his anger. “At least you can tell me how you met the hedge witch.”

“It’s a long story,” Hunt sighed.

“We have a long walk,” I said, nudging him with my shoulder. He looked down at me with a frown.

“Why do you believe you’re entitled to my secrets all of a sudden, Red?” he asked. He still sounded amused, not annoyed, and in a moment of daring, I decided to push my limit.

“How about a truth for a truth,” I suggested, almost tripping on a root. Hunt caught me before I fell, pulling me upright by the arm without breaking his pace. “You can choose what secret to tell, and I’ll tell you one in return.”

Hunt raised his brow. “There have to be rules,” he said, shooting me another frown. “The secrets have to be of the same level of importance. I don’t want to tell you I’m fabulously wealthy and important, only for you to respond with something like not enjoying sardines.”

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