The only way it could have trailed them here was if she’d led it here. She wasn’t the prey… he was. She was bait.
He almost groaned at his own stupidity as he realized he’d been had. Or rather he’d allowed himself to be led by his cock. He roared in fury again as he twirled the big axe around the back of his hand in a show of sheer strength.
He should kill her right now. It would be the work of a second or so to reach down, yank her head back and run his blade over the front of her throat, leaving the demon without its bait to lure the unwary. It would serve her right, that’s if she even had her mind anymore and wasn’t totally possessed by the demon.
But he couldn’t. Not all demon possessions were consensual. She could be an unwitting pawn of the foul beast…
The demon howled and launched itself at him again, claws extended straight for his throat. Baring his teeth in a snarl, Karak waited until it was in the air before he swung. The powerful blow sliced through the air, up and across. The blade whistled for a second before he heard a meaty thud and fleshy tear.
The demon’s body hit the leaves on the ground with two thuds, each chunk of stinking corpse rolling a little before they came to a stop. An acrid stink filled the air as they burned to nothing, the leaves around them curled up and charred.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!”
The muttered whimpering from between his legs got Karak’s attention and he looked down. The little faery was crouched, her eyes wide as she stared at where the demon’s body had burned up. Her hand was clutched around one of her shoes, her knuckles white.
He smirked to himself. Like that little thing was going to be any good against something like a dragos demon. It was obviously all part of the act. Like he would fall for something quite that stupid.
Bending down, he made to grab her but she scuttled away to the other side of the fire, wide eyes latched on to his face.
“What the fuck was that?” she whispered, horror in her voice, her hand still gripped around her shoe. The other was still on her foot.
“Why don’t you tell me?” he demanded. The act was cute but she was bait. There was no other explanation for it.
“I… how the fuck should I know?” she hissed, watching him.
“Because you’re working with it! How else did it find us here?” he snarled, stalking toward her.
She shrieked as she backed up, grabbing a handful of dirt and throwing it at him. The fire exploded in a mass of violet flames and will-o’-the-wisps lit up the trees around him.
Karak reeled back, covering his face with his arm as the things swarmed him, burning his skin with tiny bites. As soon as it had started, the flare was gone, plunging the small camp into darkness.
Shit.
In his preoccupation with magic, he’d failed to realize that wilarva trees stood in the grove around them. Remnants of the magical trees’ leaves would be in the dirt around them, rendering the earth highly explosive when combined with the right touch. He’d never heard of a fae being able to activate wilarva like that before but somehow she’d managed it.
He blinked to clear the bright spots from his eyes just in time to see her disappear into the trees opposite the fire. Running. Again. Roused by the sight of her fleeing, the predator within him flared to life. After that little trick, she should run from him. Once he got his hands around her slender throat…
With a roar, he leaped over the fire and took up the chase. Adrenaline poured into his body, energizing his large frame as he crashed through the trees after her.
She was fast and nimble on her feet as she dodged and wove between the trunks ahead of him. He was faster. Big as he was, no one had ever outrun him, not the swiftest warriors in Batak’s army and certainly not his little slip of a faery.
She was his.
The wood thinned out ahead of her. Claw howled somewhere to the left, closing in on her flank. He grinned as she shot him a look over her shoulder. Panic blossomed on her face as she realized how close he was again. She should know how fast he was by now.
No way could she make it to the thicker trees beyond the clearing. She tried anyway, bursting into the open space and racing across it. The moon had emerged from hiding now, highlighting the slender figure on a headlong dash into the woods ahead.
Begrudging admiration filled him at her determination, despite the fact that if she kept running the way she was, she was headed right for the bulk of the orc army. He liked a woman with spirit. They were more of a challenge and sweeter when he finally had them shivering in submission under him.
He burst into the open less than a heartbeat behind her. He was so close he could smell her panic and that elusive scent that clung to her delicate skin. She was just a hairsbreadth out of reach. His heart thundered in his ears, his breath rasping from his lungs as he drove his body forward, determined to catch her. The last thing he wanted was to have to share his prize with the rest of the army, but if she continued the way she was going, the likelihood she would run into a scout from the main force was significantly higher.
Her hair whipped around her face as she risked a look over her shoulder again and paled. Her squeak fed the beast inside him, the part that liked to hunt and chase. He almost had her. Just a few more steps and she was his.
She put on a burst of speed, a last desperate attempt to break away from him, but he wasn’t going to let her get away. Digging deep, he threw himself into a tackle.
Hitting her squarely, he wrapped her up in his arms and twisted as they hit the ground. His shoulder took the brunt of the blow, pain flaring for a second as they rolled in the silver-tinted grass. He ignored it, concentrating instead on the small woman in his arms.
Screeching like a banshee, she became as wild as a feral cat as soon as they touched down. Blows, kicks and scratches came from everywhere at once. He clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth as he blocked furiously and held on to her. She’d become as slippery as an eel, trying to slide out of his grasp in any way possible.
He swore, low growls in his native tongue. He could have used magic and knocked her out cold, but he didn’t. She was way more fun when she was awake, and besides, he needed to question her. He couldn’t question a sleeping woman.
The fight didn’t last long. Taller and heavier, he was altogether meaner than her. If it had been him pinned on the floor, he’d have used every weapon at his disposal to get free. He’d have punched and kicked, bitten and tried to gouge his opponent’s eyes out.
Hells, he’d have torn pieces off his enemy with his teeth if necessary. No orc wanted to be pinned and beaten in a fight. If that happened, his ass was the winner’s. Literally. Karak wasn’t inclined that way…in any way, shape or form.
But she didn’t try anything other than ordinary fighting. No gouging, no choking… nothing challenging apart from the obligatory try for a knee to the groin. He twisted his hips to avoid that and hauled her hands above her head as disappointment surged through him. She hadn’t even tried to bite. A shiver whispered along his spine at the thought of her teeth on him, her lips over his skin.
“Hold still,” he snarled as he used his thighs to pin hers down. Finally, she was stretched out under him, the glorious wealth of her hair spread like a fiery halo around her head.
“Fuck you!”
She kept struggling, twisting and squirming under him. Pressed breast to thigh, he felt everything. Every curve and hollow of her feminine form.