Page 23 of To Hunt a Demon King

He laughed. “You know, you are the whiniest witch I have ever met,” he said, looking down at me with a smirk.

“How many witches have you met?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips and looking up at him with a raised brow.

“Not many,” he conceded, leaning down to scratch Akela behind the ears to wake him. “But you’re still the worst.”

“I’m beyond pleased to disappoint you,” I said, picking my way past him to walk toward the bank of the river.

“Who said I’m disappointed?” he asked behind me as he followed. My stomach gave a little lurch at his playful teasing. Before I could overthink it, I stopped and turned back to him.

“Thank you,” I said. “For watching out for me.”

Hunt raised a brow at me, looking surprised. “You know this isn’t charity, Red,” he said, looking pointedly at where the necklace lay beneath my blouse.

“I know,” I agreed, continuing in a rush, “and I know I’m technically paying you, but it’s kind anyway.”

Hunt looked at me steadily for a moment, a slight smile curving his lips. “You’re welcome, Red,” he said.

“Elara,” I replied, feeling like if he was going to hurt me, he probably would have done it by now. Giving him my name at this point was probably harmless.

“Elara,” he repeated, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. “Pretty. You probably shouldn’t give out your name to complete strangers though, no matter how handsome and alluring they are.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well now I regret telling you,” I joked, turning on my heel and striding toward the river.

He chuckled. “I think I prefer ‘Red’ anyway,” Hunt said, pushing past me with another smirk toward the bank. It hadn’t escaped me that he had failed to return the favor of telling me his real name, and I scowled at his back as I followed him.

The river was moving swiftly, and of course there was no bridge to cross. It didn’t look very deep, but it would likely be cold and slippery. I shivered, despite being too hot only a moment before.

“Don’t,” said Hunt, reaching out a hand to stop me from putting my cloak back on. He unclasped his own cloak and folded it neatly. “You’re going to want something to be dry when we get to the other side.”

I grimaced, folding my cloak and clutching it tightly. That meant we were going to get wet, and I didn’t relish the idea of wading knee deep through this river. I hiked up my skirts, trying to hold them and the cloak above the water line.

Hunt raised a brow at me. “Nice ankles,” he said with a smirk. “You may as well drop the skirt though. I’m going to need you to hold my hand.” I raised a brow skeptically as Hunt held out his hand to me.

“Why exactly do I need to hold your hand?” I asked, still holding my skirts above my knees. He glanced down at my boots and looked up again, with an eye roll.

“You’re going to have to trust me on this, Red,” he said, still holding his hand out to me. “There are things that live in this river that will be more than happy to sweep you away if you let them.”

I bit my lip, taking his hand and he took the first step into the river. Akela padded in beside him, splashing happily like a puppy and soaking Hunt from head to toe. I stifled a laugh as he growled, and Akela let out a merry yip.

“Glad you’re enjoying this,” Hunt said to the wolf, who lolled his tongue out happily at his master.

The water was like ice, and it quickly rose past my boots and up to my thighs as I sunk in behind Hunt. I shivered, wading heavily through the icy water behind him. His hand still gripped mine, and it seemed to tighten every time I slipped or stumbled.

“Halfway there,” he shouted over the rush of water. Akela whined, the water up to his neck as he paddled across the river next to us.

On my next step, my foot stuck. I gasped as I felt something cold and vice-like grip my ankle, like bony fingers. They held fast as I tried to wriggle out of the iron grip, and a bolt of panic struck me as Hunt pulled and I didn’t move.

“Something has my ankle,” I shouted as he looked at me in annoyance. His expression shifted as he glanced down, growling at the churning water.

“Rusalka,” he said, steadying himself in front of me. He handed me his cloak and unsheathed the dagger at his hip. “Stand still, Red.”

I did as he asked, having not much other choice. Hunt bent down, kneeling in the water until it was up to his chest. He struck with the dagger, aiming it near my trapped ankle. A gurgling scream floated away down the river as whatever had grabbed me released its hold. I blanched as I saw the stream of red that flowed behind whatever it was.

“It’s a water demon,” Hunt shouted, wiping the knife off on his trousers and sheathing it again. “They drag their prey into cold water and drown them. Your skin must be visible to them.”

“Well I’m wearing skirts,” I shouted irritably, gesturing to the fabric pooling around me and dragging in the river. “So I’d say that’s likely.”

“More reason to wear pants,” he grinned, starting the trek forward again with slow, careful steps. “Let me know if another one gets you.”

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