I hold my breath, listening for the rustling of smoky feathers. My tail stills and I shift closer—close enough to see the rise and fall of its body, and hear the tremor of its heart. Head tucked beneath its wing, the small being tries to hide from me, but it is no use.
Shifting my weight, I let my instincts do all the calculations.The distance I must run, the angle of my leap. Moonlight pours over my skin, and I launch myself.
My teeth come into contact with the bird, my hands closing around the warmth and feathers, until the struggle stops like a candle’s flame being snuffed. Placing the creature into the bag Gemma provided, I continue through the forest, drawn towards the sound of familiar footsteps.
There’s something breathing heavily, snorting and huffing through some undergrowth.
Tempest silently moves between the trees, stalking her prey in a way that seems to set my heart ablaze. I am completely captivated by her, and my breath catches on her every movement.
A boar bursts into the clearing, ivory tusks flashing in the light of the moons, but Tempest doesn’t balk. No fear shows in her body language as the animal charges toward her.
For a moment, I’m almost afraid, but then the powerful muscles of her calves flex, and a clawed hand sweeps outward, as elegant as an aerialist.
The air crackles between them and ice explodes from her fingertips in a spray of white shards, ricocheting towards the beast. Her use of magic doesn’t surprise me, but I wonder how she got it. If she has to use something like I do, or if it’s innate for the lupion like it is for demons.
She flicks the other fur-covered wrist, and the ice beneath the boar is frozen solid, causing its hooves to skid on the forest floor. I hadn’t even thought to use magic. In all honesty, being a carnie has made me soft. Reina invites me to hunt with her, but I politely decline more often than not, choosing to eat the meat Raph provides me. I wonder if Tempest had food provided for her, or if she had to fend for herself. Maybe that’s why she’s so good at this.
I know what comes next, and I should look away, but I can’t keep my eyes off her. There’s a snarl, followed by a snap that resonates through my ears and chest.
She straightens, dragging the beast into her massive game bag,before she closes her eyes and whispers something, almost like she’s in prayer. Moon rays paint her in silver and shadow, and she looks radiant. Sweaty and strong… and truly stunning.
Tempest’s head tilts towards me and my heart slams in my chest. “You can come out, nuisance,” she says, and I come into the clearing.
Her gaze drags slowly over me, and I swear the air between us shimmers with her lingering magic.
“You actually got a fucking boar.” My eyes widen, and I’m impressed.
“That I did.” She smiles, her teeth on full display, and it makes me feel things I do not want to be feeling. “I’ve got a meeting with Luc and my father tomorrow, so we should get back to camp.”
We head back through the forest in a comfortable silence, until we reach the river. I whine about only having caught the helfowl, and she allows me to hunt some fish before we return. When we get into camp, Absinthe is waiting for us, and we hand her our game bags with pride beaming off of us.
When we reach our tent and I turn off the lantern light, there are a million things I consider saying. I want to tell her how amazing it was to watch her hunt, or how sorry I am we’re even in this situation. I want to apologize for her cousin’s death too, even though it wasn’t by my hand, guilt still seeps into the cavity of my chest sometimes, threatening to drown me. Instead, I say the only thing that feels acceptable.
“Goodnight, princess.”
Movement No. 10
Yasmeena
When I wake up, Tempest isn’t in the bed beside mine, and it feels off. In just a short time, I’ve gotten used to her presence, whether I like it or not. It’s comforting and familiar, and I hope the meeting with Cain and Luc goes well for her.
I get dressed and make my way for the hall, where some of the carnies are having breakfast. Once Tempest and Luc get back, The Devil’s Masquerade has a meeting to discuss updates on the turf war, and a strange sort of nervous energy festers in my stomach.
When I walk inside, Khalid is sitting at the table, eating some breakfast meat, and staring blankly at a newspaper. I move closer, and he looks up in my direction.
“Have you read the news lately?”
I shake my head. I used to always know the news before it was even released, but now that I’m fixated on this turf war, I don’t have the time. Every moment I previously spent working as The Spy has now become my practice time with Tempest. It feels strange to not be in the know. “No, I honestly haven’t.”
Khalid places the paper on the table, and I read the headline in big, bold letters.
FELION KILLED DURING HUNT GONE WRONG
“Someone we know?”
He shakes his head, and relief floods through me.
“Please tell me it was a half-demon,” I say, pleading for this to not add to our already tumultuous relationship with the lupion.
