Page 12 of The Demon of the Wood
“Thank you,” she said.
She looked around the cabin. The space seemed to shift and bend in, tightening around her. Her throat seized up and her jaw tightened as her vision blurred again. She shook her head vigorously, panic settling. She would be stuck here for days at the least. With a demon. A male demon at that! If he turned on her, she wouldn’t be able to flee. Not easily, at least.
She glanced at him sidelong again. He ran his hands through the thick curls on his head, the snow falling and melting in the warmth. The very rational part of her brain told her to be on alert, to be cautious, that he had other motives for his kindness, for enough males did. Her gut was mysteriously silent, though, like a cat, curled up in the sun, perfectly contented. But all her experiences, all the myths she’d been told, clamored in her head like a sickening symphony, making her heart lurch. She had made a terrible decision. Her uncle would have beaten her senseless, but she’d still live. And with the convent of the Holy Mother, she had half a chance to survive.
Without thinking, she flung the door back open and ran outside. Her breaths came out laboriously, each one straining to inhale and release. Snowdrifts that came to her waist greeted her outside the door. Thick and large snowflakes fell from the sky as if someone were dumping them from buckets above. They coated her hair and eyelashes. The footprints from earlier were already gone and though it was midday, the world was dark as dusk.
Oh no.
Her shoulders heaved with each strenuous breath.
I need to leave!
But she couldn’t. With limbs so tense they ached, she could barely move. She was a fool. A right fool, as her uncle always told her. She had chosen to stay in a cabin with a demon for the gods’ sake!
She turned, tears lining her eyes, her jaw clenching painfully. Kaemon stood in the doorway, expression so soft and understanding, and she groaned in irritation. Why did he have to look and act so trustworthy? It confused her, each thought tangling into the next like a kitten with yarn. If only he’d been the hideous monster with clearly evil intent, she’d at least know how to feel. This was far, far worse.
“You won’t be able to make it safely to any town in this weather,” Kaemon said. “I would fly you to another one if I could, but I’ll only get lost in the storm.”
He took a step forward, and she stumbled back on instinct. He halted and held up his hands. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”
“You’re lying,” she said, swallowing down the pathetic sob that threatened to break free.
She didn’t want to cry or sob or be weak, but she was weak. She swayed on her feet even as she stood there, her mind dizzy and head light.
“I know that I’m a demon, but—”
She laughed bitterly, and he stopped talking. “Demon or not, you’re still a male.”
An acute understanding flickered on his features.
“I won’t…” He stopped, thinking. “What can I do to make you feel safe, Melina?”
Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the howling wind and rustling of trees. What could he do? Nothing. He had already shown kindness to her. Gentleness. More than she had experienced since her mother died. But hadn’t Gregory been kind at first? Hadn’t her uncle too when they had first come to live with him? Before their existence became a burden and their care a mar to his reputation.
“I can sleep in the shed, if that will help you feel better,” he said.
He gestured to a small structure standing a few yards away. The log walls had gaps that would certainly let the cold draft in bitterly and snow already piled up around it.
“I’ll only need to come in to cook,” he continued. “But I will warn you before and only come in when you’re comfortable.”
She stared at him for a long moment. The wind whirled around her, her lips becoming chapped and her hands and feet so cold.
“I don’t…” She’d been about to say that she didn’t believe him. But she did. Maybe she was foolish. Maybe he was lying. But what would be the point? If he wanted to have her, he could have taken her many times already. If he wanted to harm her, he would have already. Experience told her he still could, that he could change at a moment’s notice. But for now, he wasn’t treating her that way.
She shook her head. “No. That will be so cold and uncomfortable. I…” She swallowed. “I believe you.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Come back inside?”
She nodded and followed him in, staying a small distance away from him. He went to a wooden crate and opened it, pulling out a shirt and trousers. “Until we can go back to the town, I believe these should suffice for you to wear and keep warm.” He handed her a bit of twine as well. “And this should help you tie it, so it stays up.”
Melina was still wearing the nightshirt over her dress, tucked into the apron around her waist. She took the items and Kaemon headed for the door, stopping as he arrived. “I’ll be gathering supplies from the shed, but you can use anything in the cabin. If there’s an emergency or you need me for anything, just shout my name, and I’ll be back quickly.”
She gave a curt dip of her head in acknowledgement, and he left, closing the door behind him. She waited a moment, watching through the window as he marched into the snow, then she undressed, pulling on the overlarge trousers. They had appeared small in his hands, but they enveloped her. She took the twine, then searched the wooden crates by the wall. There were a few unique items, all disorganized, but she found a small box with a single needle and a bit of thread. It wasn’t much, but she could make it work.
Holding the trousers up, she pinched the back and made a quick stitch to hold it tighter against her waist. The twine made a sturdy enough belt. Then she pulled the dark linen shirt over her head, rolling up the back and tying the ends of the front in a knot so it fell right below her waist. Wearing men’s clothes felt odd, but the trousers were big enough on her that it gave the appearance of a skirt. She bent down and cuffed the pants, then slipped her boots on under them.
Standing, she took in her surroundings. One thing she knew for certain, she would need to make herself useful to him. She couldn’t become a burden like she had to her uncle.
