Her familiar was a creature I didn’t want to cross paths with, either; it was just as ruthless and cunning as she is.
I exhaled slowly, pressing myself deeper into the shadows, letting the darkness swallow me whole. I heard footsteps, then faint voices.
Shit.
My fingers inched towards one of my daggers as I carefully peeked out again. Three hunters stood near the entrance, their postures relaxed but eyes sharp: Darian Wolfe, Kieran Vale, and Ronan Ashford.
I recognised them instantly. They weren’t just any hunters; they were Vesperas's favourites, her most trusted and lethal enforcers. I’d heard whispers about them whenever I slipped through the darkness of the city, especially from women. They were ruthless, relentless and dangerously charming in their twisted ways.
Kieran Vale stood slightly ahead of the others, his presence commanding without needing a single word. He was over six feet tall, built like a warrior forged for battle, with broad shoulders and a robust frame, with every movement he made was calculated and efficient. Considering his well-known habits, his dark brown hair was always slightly tousled, like he’s just rolled out of bed or someone else’s bed. His eyes were the most unsettling, storm grey, sharp as a blade, filled with a quiet, predatory intensity. He had the kind of gaze that made you feel like he was stripping you down to your soul, searching for weaknesses to exploit.
A rough scar stretched from his temple to his cheekbone, likely a remnant of a fight he undoubtedly won. His tactical gear was sleek and well-worn, designed for speed and lethality, but he wore a weathered leather jacket over it, which added an odd touch of rebellious nonchalance. Kieran was dangerous, not just because of his skills, but also because of his nature. He indulged in all of life’s vices—drinking, gambling, and women—and yet, nothing seemed to dull his edge. It was as if, no matter what he did, he still felt incomplete.
“Darian, you seriously want us to go into the woods? That place is creepy as fuck.”
Ronan’s voice carried through the quiet night, edged with unease as he glared at the looming trees. The same woods I called home, the place I hid, waiting for the right time to make my next move.
Ronan Ashford was the closest thing to a cinnamon roll among the three… if cinnamon rolls were laced with arsenic and a penchant for violence. He had a reckless energy about him, quick-witted and unpredictable, but make no mistake, he was just as dangerous as the others, if not more so. His black hair, longer on top, somehow always looked effortlessly perfect, not a strand out of place even in the wind. His deep blue eyes were deceptively easy to get lost in, full of mischief one second and something far more lethal the next. He had the kind of face that could be disarming if you didn’t know better: chiselled cheekbones framed a straight, aristocratic nose and plush lips that always seemed to be curled into a cheeky grin like he was always in on some secret joke that no one else would understand. His pale skin made the scars on his face more noticeable. A predator with a charming smile, the kind of man who would slit your throat while telling you not to take it personally.
“There’s something in those woods,” Darian said to him, “and tonight is the perfect time to check it out since we are off duty.” Then, without hesitation, he started walking towards the woods.
Kieran and Ronan exchanged a look before following, though Ronan looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Dammit,” I cursed under my breath, panic rising in my chest. If they went that way, they’d find Xarothar; if they did, they would kill him without a second thought.
Not sure how you kill a dragon, but a baby one would be easy.
I couldn’t let that happen; I needed to get back before they got there. Muscles tensed, I turned on my heel and sprinted down the alley, my cloak behind me as I weaved between abandoned stalls and side streets. My heart was pounding as the cool night air stung my cheeks, but I didn’t slow. I knew these paths better than most.
Just ahead, the forest loomed, its towering trees standing like silent sentinels, their shadowy forms stretching in the night. There was no sign of the hunters yet. I was so close, with just a few more steps, I could slip into the darkness, where I could disappear.
Suddenly, I was pulled backwards, my back slamming into the rough bark of a tree. A sharp gasp escaped me as a hand closed around my throat, again.
This was fucking ridiculous.
I forced my eyes open, and there he was—the blood mage from this morning. Up close, he looked even more unhinged, his eyes glinting with something between amusement and curiosity, like he was enjoying this a little too much. His grip wasn’t crushing but firm enough to remind me that he was in control.
“Really?” I rasped, glaring up at him. “We’re doing this again?”
He tilted his head, his smirk widening. “You make it too easy, little witch.” His voice was smooth, edged with something dark.
I shifted, fingers twitching, magic crackling beneath my skin, but before I could react, he pressed closer. Heat radiated off him, his body a wall of muscle trapping me against the tree. My heartbeat stuttered, then picked up—annoyingly fast. I lifted my knee, aiming low, but he moved with infuriating ease, dodging like he had expected it. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.
“Ah, ah,” he chided, his eyes flicking down for a split second before returning to mine, wicked amusement dancing in them. “I wouldn’t do that, love. Precious jewels and all that jazz.” Then he winked.
He actually winked at me. Wait, was he flirting with me?
The sheer audacity of it had me grinding my teeth. My irritation burned hotter, overriding the weird twisting sensation curling in my stomach. I parted my lips, but before I could say anything, a cool finger pressed against my lips. My entire body tensed from his gentle touch, but he wasn’t even paying attention to me now. His head was tilted to the side. In the distance, I heard the steady crunch of boots against the dirt. The hunters were getting closer.
“They’re looking for you.” His red eyes met mine, and his finger brushed against my lip.
“No, they’re looking forsomething,” I shot back, annoyance creeping into my voice. “Can you just piss off? I need to get back to…”
“Your dragon.” He finished, and my breath hitched.
His grip on my throat tightened—not enough to choke me, just enough to remind me that he could if he wanted to. And gods help me, I kind of didn’t hate it.
My stomach dropped, “How do you…”
