Page 40 of The Fox Heir

The fae’s grin stretches wider, his jaw cracking at the joints with a pop. “We’ll see how long you last, little bug.”

He lunges. I barely register the movement before claws slice the air. I step back, but not fast enough. He shears through several strands of my hair. I stumble back, caught off-guard by his speed, and catch myself against the stone wall.

He lands on all fours behind me, blocking the corridor. Slowly, he lifts his hand and drags my cut hair beneath his nose. He lets out a shuddering breath that makes my stomach twist.

“Filthy, dirty girl.” He rubs my hair all over his sallow face. All across his body, his sickly pale skin twitches with pleasure. The front of his loincloth tents.

His eyes snap back to me. “I must have you.”

He leaps at me again, and I’m driven backward, deeper into his disgusting lair. My foot slips on a brittle bone, and I fall back onto the creature’s nest, narrowly avoiding dropping my torch. The stench is revolting, a blend of rot and centuries of decay. Then my free hand closes around something soft. I glance down and raise a fistful of the fae’s nest toward the torchlight. It’s not made of straw.

It’s blond hair.

Golden strands spill all around me, tangled with white bone fragments. Thousands of heads of human hair, some twisted and braided, form a plush bed. I resist the urge to scream as I throw the hair aside and scramble to my feet. I bite back the rising panic and turn my attention to the fae. He’s watching me with interest as he rubs my auburn hair over his skin. Saliva dribbles down his chin.

“Don’t worry, little bug. I always make them scream before I cuts their hair.”

My power lies dormant and useless in my core, but I will not go down without a fight. I will not be the next woman to die at the hands of this revolting fae with a fetish for hair and female flesh.

His laughter cuts through the air, cruel and sickening. “Oh, you’ll be a delicious little bug.”

“I’m no bug,” I say, steeling my spine. “I’m a Fox.”

I run at him, swiping my torch.

The fae cringes back, covering his black eyes with a hand. “It burns!”

“Good.” I thrust the fire toward him again. This time, I don’t hold back. I set his loincloth aflame.

The scent of burning flesh fills the room within seconds. The fae screams and writhes, the fire consuming his loincloth and catching on his skin. I duck aside as he rolls to the ground, writhing into his awful nest. The dry golden hair ignites. Acrid burning hair turns into smoke.

“No!” he shrieks, still burning. “You ruined it. You ruined everything!”

The fae and I both begin to cough.

I don’t waste any time. I run past the wall of dead women, toward the spiral stairs, not daring to look back. Behind me, skittering claws follow.

“You horrible little bug! I will rip you to shreds!” The fae’s voice is ragged from smoke and anger. “I will suckle your fleshy female bits and make them bleed!”

I skid to a stop and whirl toward him, my torch held in my outstretched hands. He freezes a mere ten feet behind me. His skin is raw and blackened, but he’s no longer aflame. He’s trembling, whether from fury, or pain, or fear, I can’t tell. Behind him, his nest of golden hair still burns. The flames throw wild shadows across the corpses strung up in the corridor.

“You will not touch me.” My breath comes fast, my chest heaving, but I force my voice steady. My heart pounds like a drum, each beat echoing in my ears.

The torch fire crackles in my hands. The fae’s black eyes watch it warily.

“You will never take another woman again,” I warn, my voice low and hard. “Or I will come back to finish what I started here.”

Slowly, his face shifts, melting into that strange, childlike lightness. He giggles, head tilting at an unnatural angle.

“Does the mortal bug think she can outwit a fae who’s lived for centuries?” He shakes his head slowly, tutting like a scolding parent. “I do not take.”

I frown. “What?”

His clawed hand gestures down the hall toward the line of dead women. “I do not take. They give.”

I stare past the flames into the fae’s dark eyes.

“They. Give.” He grins. “I. Eat.”