Page 53 of Betrothed

The hunters started to scream.

Errol’s triumphant grin faltered. He looked over at the shadowy path they had vanished into, and the fear trickled back into his face as he noticed the dark tendrils snaking out from the path and creeping toward him.

“What’s this?” Errol demanded. “What is that?”

“The forbidden mountain,” Fawn said. “You know it, Errol. We all whispered about it as children. It’s coming for you.”

With that, she bared her teeth and showed him what she had Zax’s brother do to her when they returned to his cave: her flat teeth sharpened into fangs, her fragile nails growing into hard points.

Fawn grinned. Then she lunged up and bit a chunk out of Errol’s stubbled cheek.

Errol screamed. He tried to climb off of her, but she had her claws in him now: long, thick claws embedded deep in his arms. They had gone back to Fawn’s new brother-in-law and asked for a few embellishments, and he had bestowed them gladly. Fawn was the proud owner of a set of her very own fangs and claws, if she saw fit to unsheathe them.

Fawn bit a second chunk out of his chin. Blood filled her mouth. It tasted foul, but Fawn didn’t care. Finally, she understood what Zax had felt when he ripped apart her puny, loathsome husband.

It was beautiful.

Errol shrieked and writhed, kicking desperately at her. Fawn struggled up—the spell had not given her Skullstalker strength—and dragged him toward the shadowy path where the hunters’ yells were growing faint.

The tendrils were stretching faster, more copious, strands latching onto Errol’s clothes and skin and yanking. Not enough to drag him into the wall of shadows that waited ahead, but enough to tear his skin and make him scream even louder.

Fawn took a deep breath. Then she stepped into the shadows, dragging Errol with her.

The shadows swarmed around them, dark and hungry. They did not leave Fawn alone, as they did to Skullstalkers, but neither did they rip into her like they were doing to the three men stuck inside the shadows. They recognized her for what she was: not mortal, not Skullstalker, but something entirely different. Nothing they could consume.

The hunters were pinned in place, slowly being devoured. Fawn retracted her claws from Errol’s skin and stood back, the darkness quickly washing over him until she could no longer see the damage.

The air was thick with screams. The shadows rushed over Fawn, cold and blinding. She closed her eyes, some of the discomfort from the first time she had been carried through this place.

Then a large pair of arms closed around her. The shadows pulled back, and Fawn looked up to see Zax staring down at her, his face so full of love she almost didn’t notice the viscera dripping from his jaw.

Fawn pulled him down into a bloody kiss. By the time Zax had licked her mouth clean, the shadows were silent.

Fawn shivered. “Come on. It’s so cold in here.”

Zax nodded and led her out. The shadowy tendrils reached for them, then stopped as they stepped into the main path.

Chastity was waiting beyond the shadow’s reach, no doubt beckoned by the screaming. Tears slid down her wrinkled face, a distraught sob ripping out of her as she spotted them.

“What did you do?” she croaked. “What are you?”

Her gaze dropped to Fawn’s face, still smeared with Errol’s blood. Then her stained dress and her bloody fingers. Chastity gasped, raising a shaking hand to point accusingly.

“You,” she hissed.

Fawn sighed, genuinely apologetic. “Chastity⁠—”

“Get away from me!” Chastity screamed. “You—you monster! You’re both monsters!”

She turned and ran, stumbling over a rock before righting herself and fleeing down the path.

Zax turned to her expectantly. But Fawn did not want her to chase her down; they didn’t have to. Chastity was no threat. Even if she rallied a group to avenge her sons, Fawn and her husband would be long gone when she tried to find them again.

Fawn’s ankle twinged. A faint hurt, but there. She sighed and gestured for Zax to lift her.

“Come,” she said again as she settled in Zax’s broad arms. “Let’s go make ourselves a new home. What would you like? Treehouse, cave, cottage?”

Zax growled contentedly and lifted her higher, nuzzling her short brown curls.