“Petrified.”
And she should be. He towered over her frail, fragile human body. It would take nothing to break her into pieces and use her blood and bone marrow to restore his strength and heal his injuries. He’d torn apart men twice the size of her, and those were trained warriors who’d been armed war heroes.
Yet here she stood … unarmed. Defenseless. Her only armor a thin, light yellow flaxen dress that was so thin, he could see the outline of her body whenever the sun passed through it. She didn’t even have on a single piece of jewelry she could stab him with.
Nothing.
Even her nails were trimmed to the quick so that she couldn’t scratch him. She was as harmless as a little mouse.
A part of him wanted to taste her blood to see if it was as sweet as she smelled. That same part of his soul hated her for daring to stand before him like this—for that innocent trust that said she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
It was as if she dared him to prove he was ruthless and uncaring. Things he’d vowed to himself he would always be. That he would feel nothing for anyone, ever again.
Numb to the world and all its pain.
She was his enemy. The very thing his father sought to protect. Malphas had sworn his sword and army to the utter destruction of every member of her pathetic race. To see them put down like the infectious disease they were.
Humanity …
The very word was bitter on his tongue.
Yet as he looked down at her and felt the heat of her hand on his skin …
This wasn’t hatred inside him. He wanted to comfort her and chase away the frightened light in her eyes. Even more peculiar, he wanted to know what a smile would look like on that innocent face.
“I won’t hurt you, little one.” He wasn’t sure who was more stunned when those words came out of his mouth.
She or he.
For the first time, the terror faded from her eyes and her gaze softened to warmth. Placing her arm about his waist, she gently helped him toward her cave. “Are all demons as gigantic as you?”
He snorted at her question. “Depends on the species.” He sucked his breath in sharply as he stumbled on a hidden bramble, and pain hit him anew. She didn’t flinch as he put more weight on her than he’d meant to.
Amazed by her, he gentled his grip on her shoulder, not wanting to hurt her in any way. “Are all women as brave as you?”
Finally, a smile curved her lips, and it was as breathtaking a sight as he’d thought. “Depends on the species.”
He’d arched a brow at her flippant, teasing tone. “Well, aren’t you a cheeky one?”
“So says my father. It’s ever a fault of mine that I don’t know my place. But who better to know my place than I, says I? And who so better to determine it? For I will not be hemmed in by anyone else’s expectations. This is my life, such as it is. And it will be lived under my rules so long as I have it.” She led him into the dark cave where his sight quickly adjusted.
To him, this was home.
Even more surprised by her spirit that was unafraid of the dark he called home, he sat down on the floor while she went to a corner and uncovered a small tinder box. If he didn’t know better, he’d think her part demon the way she moved about in the darkness as if she could plainly see.
But it was merely the fact that she was familiar with the place, and knew where everything in it was located. She struck a match and lit a small tallow candle to burn. Holding it aloft, she returned to his side and placed it in a small makeshift sconce she’d created.
Once she could see, she returned to his side and knelt down. When she reached for his armored cuirass, he caught her soft hand with his claws. “What are you doing?”
She gave him a blank stare. “I was going to inspect your injury. Surely, you don’t think I could do you harm?”
No, but trust didn’t come easy for him. He’d never had anyone who hadn’t sought in the past to give him all manner of pain.
That list included his own parents.
Reluctantly, he loosened his grip and surrendered to her care. As promised, she didn’t hurt him. Rather she carefully examined his wound then tore away a section of her underdress to bandage it.
That selfless act hit him twofold. One, that she destroyed her own dress for his care. And two that her touch was feather-light and seared him to the core of his rotten soul.
When she was done, she sat back to smile down at him. “You lie still and rest. I shall get you something to eat and drink.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome…”
By the way she said that, he knew she wanted something from him, but he had no idea what.
After a second, she laughed. “What’s your name?”
“Malphas.”
“Malphas?” she repeated in distaste. “That name doesn’t suit you at all.”
“How do you figure?”