The Lure of the Devil (The Demons' Muse #4) - Auryn Hadley Page 0,93

animal I was helping suddenly spooked, jumping a step away as she threw up her head. All around me, the animals turned to face the same direction, hearing something that I couldn't yet, but I had a guess. Ron had probably followed me. No one else would have.

Moving to the next animal that I hadn't touched, I called back, "Do not walk into their area or they will charge."

A soft chuckle came back through the foliage. "I just wanted to see them," he admitted.

And, as if the sound of his voice was all the reassurance they needed, the entire herd relaxed once again and returned to grazing. "Huh," I muttered to myself. Then, "I think they like you. Come closer."

Ron made his way to the edge of the open area and stopped. His dark, demonic eyes were wide in wonder, jumping from unicorn to unicorn, and his wings dropped in awe. "They're beautiful," he breathed.

The young one on the ground decided that was his cue to get up. Thrusting his legs out before him, the slate-colored colt groaned as he forced himself up, shook, and then moseyed toward Ron. He didn't charge, though.

"Don't move," I told Ron. "Just extend your arm and let him make the choice. They are nervous."

"I don't blame them," Ron said, his words pitched for the unicorn, not me. "I have a feeling it hurt when you were drained. I know she pulled hard enough to hurt me, and I gave her access."

The colt paused to smell in Ron's direction, seemed to decide that he liked what he found, and then moved closer. Without hesitation, he pressed his nose into Ron's upturned palm, sliding against it as if forcing Ron to pet him. The smile that appeared on the demon's face was radiant.

"Can I?" Ron asked.

"He may want more aether," I told him.

"I can do that," Ron agreed.

I moved to refill the last of the unicorns, but refused to take my eyes off Ron. The leader of this herd, the male, kept watch with me, almost as if he understood. When the grey colt began to push a little too much, the male snorted in the way they had, and the colt backed off. The pastel yellow female moved in to take his place, positioning herself so her side was next to him.

"She's pregnant," I said.

Carefully, Ron reached out to pet the female's side, sliding his hand back toward the fullness of her belly. Then he made a sound that was almost sad. "Sia drained the foal, too."

"Is it dead?" I asked.

"Close," Ron said as his eyes slipped closed. "I think I can help it."

"Thank you," I breathed. "They're my..." I let the sentence die, not sure what word to use.

"Friends," Ron finished for me. "I don't think they're really pets."

"No," I agreed. "They are too proud for that. Too wild."

For a long moment, Ron was silent while he pushed life into the unborn foal. But when he opened his eyes again, they looked across the distance to find me. Carefully, he lowered his hand and stepped away from the female.

"Don't tell Sia?" he asked. "About this. That she hurt them?"

I shook my head. "She does not need to know."

"She's..." He paused, a hint of a smile flickering across his lips. "I guess you could say she's too proud. Too wild. Knowing she hurt them would break her heart."

"I know," I promised. "And she didn't mean to. I do not think she was really awake when it happened."

"She wasn't," he agreed, slowly moving toward me, his eyes checking the unicorns before coming back to me. "But, Bel? What if she does it again? What if, the next time, it's worse?"

"Wild things do what they do," I told him. "They do not mean to. They react, and we cannot blame them for it. Sia is the same. She feels stronger than the rest of us. Don't you get that? She feels so strong she makes it into 'magic.'"

"Her ability has always been tied to her emotion," he agreed.

I groaned, wishing I could make him understand. "Her ability is her emotion. She gets mad and destroys dozens of angels. She gets scared and creates a veil. She is a Muse. A creature that wields emotion as power and influence. She feels, Ron. That is why it is hard for her to do things. She feels everything more than we do."

"Even guilt," Ron realized. "Fuck."

"What?" Because that was not the reaction I expected.

He glanced back toward the cottage. "She