Page 47 of The Knucker King

He roared in agony that tied his body in knots.

Avice recoiled as his scales fell off. Underneath was pale, smooth skin, shot through with vivid silver veins. Trewoofe contorted, throwing himself against the frost. His powerful limbs shrunk into corded arms and legs, taut with lithe muscles. Each foot was tipped with four clawed toes, and each hand had three clawed fingers and a thumb.

Avice could do nothing but watch. Sympathy flooded her. She wrung her hands, desperate to help Trewoofe, but clueless as to what was happening.

With a final convulsion, his muzzle shrunk and reshaped into a handsome face. Arched cheekbones swept into a narrowly pointed chin. His nose reminded her of a delicately arched bird’s beak. Silver brows and eyelashes matched his long, waterfall-like hair. From his scalp swept two handsome horns. They smashed into the ground with a sickening crack as he tossed his head. His eyes squeezed shut during his spasms, but Avice had no doubt that they would be wracked with agony when he opened them.

Finally, Trewoofe settled onto his back, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. And, what a chest. Firm, taut, and covered with fine silver hair. Avice’s gaze swept downwards. From the top of his breastbone, and twisting down his midline, was the old, ragged scar she had spotted on his belly while he was still shaped like a Knucker. It mingled with the fresh, deep cuts from where his scales had been ripped out. Her assessment of his injuries stopped right above his downy pubic hair.

Avice flushed. Trewoofe was naked. Very naked. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She did not realise men could be so… long, and thick.

Stop gawking. Pull yourself together. This is not the time for it.

It was a distraction though, so she untied her cloak, shivering against the freezing air. From it, she ripped off the mantle. She tossed it over his exposed manhood and tucked it around his hips, more for her ability to concentrate then for his modesty.

Do Knuckers even get embarrassed?

Trewoofe began to tremble, goosebumps prickling him all over. Avice had not seen him react to the cold before, so she tucked her cloak around the rest of him. She touched her palm to his cheek and ran her thumb over his forehead. His skin, alarmingly, was colder than ice.

“King Trewoofe?” she asked, not tearing her gaze from his face.

His eyes flickered open and blearily settled on her. “Little witch…” He gave her a small smile.

“Well, this is not what I was expecting,” Avice stated.

Trewoofe squinted up at her. “You said I was too big, and that you did not know how to treat a Knucker.” He struggled to sit, a grimace set on his face. Avice grabbed his elbow and yanked, her other hand on the small of his back. “Urgh. This is awful. Everything hurts. Even more than before.”

Avice snorted. “Welcome to being human.” She eyed his horns and red eyes. “Well, almost human.”

Trewoofe said nothing but grunted. He doubled over and wretched, his body still trying to purge itself. She pulled his hair back, but there was no need, as nothing came out.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Ready for wha—”

Avice shoved her fingers down his throat. He had a uvula now, and she made sure to poke at it hard enough to make him vomit. She yanked her hand from his mouth, scratching her skin on the fangs he still had.

She held his long, silky hair back as he vomited onto the frost. She rubbed soothing circles on his back, trying to ignore how strong and supple the cords of his muscles were. It did not seem fair that he was beautiful as a Knucker and a man.

Beautiful to her anyway, even in his current state. She cooed words of comfort as the black sludge he spat up turned into yellow bile. His heaves ebbed, and his entire body trembled. She released her hand from his mane and wrapped him more firmly in her cloak. Avice flicked her gaze to his fluffy chest hair and followed its singular trail down. She studied the mingling fresh cuts and scratches, and that brutal scar.

I must ask him about that. Avice opened her mouth, determined to know, but instead she said, “I need to take you home.”

Trewoofe jolted at that, his sickly face meeting hers. “Really?”

“Yes,” she replied. “You are very ill; you will need someone to look after you while you recover. Some medicine, good foods, and a warm pallet.” She blinked after the words spilled out. God’s blood, Avice, what are you thinking? What if a villager sees a man in your home?

His face brightened. “I brought you a boar leg.”

Avice vaguely remembered tripping over it on her mad dash in and out of her cottage. “You did, thank you. That will be very helpful.”

He offered her a dazzling smile that made her heart flutter. “You are welcome,” he replied, before leaning forward and cupping his abdomen. “Urgh, I feel like there is none left inside of me… but everything aches.”

Avice leaned over to peek at where his clawed hand had settled. He was a mess – several deep cuts still oozed silver blood, and harsh purple bruises stood vivid against his skin.

“Some aid, before we make the journey to my cottage,” she said with a resolute nod. She stood and had almost forgotten Bramble was sitting obediently like she asked the entire time. “Oh, I am sorry, Bramble. I think it is safe now.”

Nature’s blessing, Avice! He bounded over. Do you know how hard it was to just sit and watch that?