Page 47 of Hunt Me

“How far are we from the castle?”

Luka collapsed to his hands and knees, panting heavily like a dog in a desert without an oasis.

“A… a… little less than a mile,” he whispered, his voice ragged and thin.

Matilda snatched the arrows out of him—one from his back, side, and thigh. She smelled one of the tips and wrinkled her nose. It was the same toxin she used when she attempted to slay him. She didn’t have much time before he succumbed to his injuries.

“Okay. How do I fix you?” She panicked when his eyes fluttered closed and slapped his face. The slap seemed to bring Luka back to life. “Stay with me, Luka,” she demanded, reaching for one of the carving knives. “You still owe me a crown.”

“Eager to be my queen?” Luka taunted. Matilda rolled her eyes and searched for a spot to pierce herself that wouldn’t handicap her fighting. Her hands and wrists weren’t a viable option because the blood would trickle down and slick her hands, forcing her to lose her grip. “I can’t imagine my last words being wasted on something so foolish,” she chastised through clenched teeth as she sliced her thigh, careful to miss her femoral artery.

“W-what should I… say… instead?” he stammered.

Matilda stood before him and lifted her leg to rest on his shoulder. “You can profess your undying love to me,” she gasped as he licked her thigh. She noticed how his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he drank from her. She popped him upside the head for good measure. He was enjoying it too much.

“What did you hit me for?” he complained before diving back in. That time his fangs pierced her flesh.

“I-I thought you were on the verge of fainting,” she lied, trying to ignore the wetness that pooled between her thighs. Her blood mingled with her arousal, and she whacked him once more when his sneaky tongue swiped at her center. “That’s enough for you!” she spat, shoving him away. He landed in the snow with a heavy groan. The blood had helped. He may not have been on the brink of death any longer, but he was still weak, and his extremities felt like lead. “I need to hide you.”

“Leave me.”

“By no means,” Matilda protested, wrapping her arms underneath him and dragging him away.

“Why not?”

“Lord Gustafson wouldn’t hesitate to pin your death on me. He’ll convince the council that I was in league with the werewolves and lured you to your death.”

“You’re right. You’d be burned at the stake like the witch you are.” Matilda struggled for breath as she dragged him across the forest floor. “Nothing to say in your defense?”

“I am rather preoccupied trying to keep us alive.” Matilda’s prayers were answered when she stumbled upon a small cave. Calling it a cave was generous; it was more like a rock formation with a deep crevice that was sized perfectly to hide a body—living or otherwise deceased. “This will have to do. Stay here and gather your strength. As soon as you can fly—”

“Retrieve you.”

“No, you foolish wretch. Fly back to the castle and gather reinforcements. They must not escape. We can torture them for information or keep them as political prisoners.”

“I’m not leaving you behind.”

“That’s not up for discussion,” Matilda replied as she started to block the entrance to Luka’s hideout with large slabs of rocks.

Howling echoed through the trees as Matilda was about to place the final rock that would engulf the vampire king in darkness.

“Wait!” Luka hissed before she wedged the last rock in place. She was temporarily mesmerized when he made eye contact with her through the small opening. “Be careful…Tilda,” he whispered.

A smirk ticked at the corner of the huntress’s mouth. “I’ll fare well. I’ll fly away on my broomstick if it becomes too much for me to handle.”

Luka rolled his eyes and was finally shrouded in darkness. He closed his eyes and focused on healing, purposely ignoring how his heart hammered in his chest. He felt an overwhelming sense of dread. In their brief time together, the tenacious huntress wormed her way into his heart. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to her.

***

Matilda watched anxiously from above as David silently ventured through the woods in human form, holding a crossbow with an arrow primed and ready to strike at any moment.

He paused and sniffed the air. She cursed softly when his head snapped in her direction.

“Huntress… come out. You’re injured. I can help you. I shall be honest with you, Matilda. My ego is wounded. I thought we had something. I’m willing to give you another chance.”

“How do I know you won’t shoot me as soon as I reveal my position?”

“You don’t.”