Deliciously Deadly: a Red Riding Hood retelling

Chapter 12

Both men froze and stared. Lottie couldn't help the shakes that racked her body as she continued her shrilling cry.

Three years ago, she thought things couldn't possibly get worse when she found herself as a spinster at the ripe old age of twenty years with no prospects for a husband.

Then she found herself in hell the night that the villagers of Wilken raided the farm and burnt down everything she and Cain had worked for and owned.

But even that paled in comparison to the devastating thought of Cain abandoning her.

And now she learnt that none of that was worse than Cain's death. He might still be breathing now, but there was no way for anyone to have so much blood on them unless they were terribly hurt, and no one could be hurt that terribly without dying.

She might not be his cup of tea, but he certainly was hers. And even though he might never feel more than companionship towards her, she was—for some time now, she realised—deeply, undeniably in love with him.

How could she not, when he was so clever and kind, so gentle and warm. A man of little words, who stayed by her side like a strong, sturdy rock. He made her feel like he cared about her and valued her for who she was, even if she was scarred and cowardly and useless.

And that would have been enough for her to love him, but he also came with a physical beauty like those sugar cubes she used to steal from Grandma's jar—unnecessary and best avoided lest she developed an addiction, but so irresistibly delicious.

It was impossible not to love him. Everything about him. Even if he despised her touch, even if he liked men, even if her love would always be unrequited, she still loved him.

She loved him, and he was dying.

That combination of fear and anger at all the unfairness in the world gave her the strength a recovering survivor of the plague should not have—enough to push the threatening woman aside, blade and all, and fling herself into a frozen Cain.

Her arms went around his waist, hugging him as tight as the mythical creature koala would a eucalyptus tree.

"Cain, Cain, Cain," she chanted his name like a prayer, shaking her head furiously against the blood-soaked fabric at his chest. "Don't leave me."

For what felt like the longest time, he remained still and stiff, but in this very moment, she could not bring herself to care about his discomfit with her invasion of his personal space. Their time together was counting down by the days, hours, possibly even minutes, and nothing mattered other than holding him close.

Eventually, Cain laid one hand on her back and smoothed the other down her grimy, tangled hair. "Lottie, what did he do?" he asked in a voice laced with the promise of violence.

"Who? Demon?" She pulled back slightly, just enough for her to glance sideways to the leaner, younger man who stared at them, innocent and dumbfounded.

From behind her came the voice of the woman who had held a blade to her throat for reasons she wasn't clever enough to deduce on her own. "You made her call you Demon?" she hissed.

Demon shrugged back at her. "My name is Demon."

"A month ago it was Death. Two months before that it was Godzilla."

Though Lottie couldn't see the woman, she could practically hear her exasperated eye roll.

"Godzilla was great!" Demon threw a fist in the air. "It was you lot who had a problem with it. Not my fault no one ever thinks I'm scary until it's too late for them." He gripped his own throat and made a series of gurgling noises.