Page 105 of Huntress

“She’s suffering?” Morgan’s brows furrowed.

“Why, are you volunteering to help her out?” Riven laughed, and Saint held back a growl. She’d be cross with him if he attacked one of her people. “Perrie and I will keep an eye on her tonight. She’ll be fine.”

They took her back to the inn and tucked her into bed, the demon watching from the doorway. Elsie stared at him with accusing eyes, unable to call him out with her voice closed off. She watched him walk away and turned her back to the door.

She tossed and turned, unable to escape the unrelenting heat. Saint was one door over, instead of on a cot within arm’s reach, and she hated it. Elsie flopped onto her back with a heavy sigh, flinching when a cold cloth touched her forehead. Perrie mopped the sweat from her face and offered her some cold water.

“I think you must have scared Mutt, Elsie,” the witch said. “I’ve never heard him speak that much.”

“He doesn’t talk to you?” Riven questioned.

“He doesn’t talk to anyone. Except for the captain.”

“What a weird guy, but gods is that man sexy.” Riven grinned. “You must have an iron will to have chosen a human instead of that demon of yours.”

Elsie scowled, something between pride and jealousy brewing in her chest. She already knew he was sexy, and she wouldn’t be miserable right now if he were willing to share some of it with her. The dirty liar, going back on his promise.

“The hunters don’t view demons that way.” Perrie’s lip curled in disgust.

“Your loss. They know what they’re doing in bed and make it worth all the trouble they bring, let me tell you,” the mage laughed. Elsie whimpered, but no sound came out.

She pulled the blanket over her head and faced the other way, not wanting to hear another word. Sleep was a fitful series of false starts and dreams of Saint in all manner of lewd acts. She’d wake with a pathetic whine caught in her throat, squirming and unable to relieve herself in a room with two other women carefully watching over her.

By morning all three of them were exhausted, but Elsie had finally fallen into a deep, undisturbed sleep. Relieved, the witch and the mage followed suit.

Morgan checked in on them several times, finally bringing them breakfast in the late afternoon, waking them with the smell of food. Riven and Perrie dove into their plates gleefully, but Elsie sat at the edge of her bed for a long moment. Her head was foggy, but she remembered a fair bit of what had happened the night before.

Face flaming, she fled the room, running to the bathroom for a long shower. Memories of climbing her demon, like some out-of-control succubus, flashed through her mind, and she groaned until another thought stopped her cold.

He hadn’t been affected by the herb the way she had, but he’d let her do whatever she wanted until he figured it out. No, he hadn’t just let her. Elsie touched her bruised lips with a shiver, remembering him hard and grinding between her legs. Her clit pulsed thinking about it, that demanding tug in her belly flaring back to life.

Her fingers dipped low, sliding between her folds, seeking relief. She skimmed over the sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing out the right pressure and motion until she got it right. Elsie’s traitorous mind flashed images of her demon on his knees in front of her, his face buried between her thighs.

Gods, he’d have done it if it weren’t for the damned tea. He’d wanted her.

Her fingers moved fast as she chased a frantic, swirling pressure that built to a crescendo. Her breath quickened, and she mouthed his name, closing her eyes and throwing her head back. Water cascaded down her body, and thoughts of him raced through her mind. Fingers aggressively insistent, she let out a soundless moan as her body released.

Her belly and clit pulsed in unison, but before it even ended, she knew it wasn’t enough. The herb had worn off, but she still craved Saint’s touch. A quiver of fear struck her chest.

Their bond– she felt for it, finding it stronger than before.

‘My gods, what have I done,’ she thought to herself over and over again as she scrubbed herself clean.

He was in the hallway on her way back to her room, and she fumbled to a stop. Exactly how good was his hearing? He leaned against the wall, waiting for her.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he teased, his voice a low rumble, and she scowled. “Come here.”

She took several steps back, and he rolled his eyes. “Do you want your voice back?”

Elsie let him approach, tilting her chin up defiantly. Her mother had stolen her magic in the same way he’d stolen her voice. Deception, and without consent.

“Oh? Still want those kisses?” Saint asked as he drew near, the hint of a smile on his lips. His breath whooshed out when she shoved her palm into his stomach. He sputtered, struggling for breath for a few seconds. He straightened up, a hand over the spot she’d struck. “Alright, I won’t bully you over it anymore.”

He repeated the motion from the night before in reverse, unlocking her voice. Elsie took a deep breath and cleared her throat while picking out a nice patch of floor to stare at.

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”