The mountain finally came into view. There was a flash of silver, Elian’s hair whipping in the wind. The dark shape of Jax’s coat, and a blue backpack discarded on the ground in haste. I blinked the snow from my eyes, wishing I could shout for them, wishing they could hear me, but I was still too fucking far away and the Fog was outpacing me and the red snow was so fucking heavy and cold and…
Another blur, a flash of silver and black, the breathtaking speed of a vampire-fae as he shot from one side of the path to the other, slamming into the demon and knocking him out of the way just as the Fog finally descended upon the path.
And, in a gruesome and devastating explosion of gore that not even the heavy snowfall could mask from my eyes, claimed its victim.
27
HALEY
Tucked inside a cave in some craggy, unknown peak in the Razorback Range, I peered out into the storm, searching for any signs of the others.
A useless attempt.
Blinding snow the color of blood poured down from the skies, swirling into vicious eddies that scoured the mountainside like hundreds of mini tornados.
I was pretty sure no living thing could survive out there—a thought that threatened to unravel me.
They’re not stupid,I reminded myself.They’ve survived Midnight before, and they probably found shelter tonight, just like you did. Not to mention the fact that they’re fucking immortals.
Immortals. Right.
Comforting myself with the word, I peered out into the darkness once more, scanning the peeks until my vision went blurry.
“Come back to the fire, Haley,” Evander called from deeper inside the cave. “You didn’t come all this way just to freeze to death.”
“But what if the others pass us by? What if—”
“They won’t,” he said, his warmth radiating behind me as he drew close. He wrapped his cloak over my shoulders, the feel of it heavenly against the frigid bite of the storm. “They’re smart men, Haley. They’ll wait out the storm just like we’re doing, and then they’ll come. You’ll see.”
Blowing out a breath, I turned to him and smiled, feeling marginally better. “You really think so?”
“If there’s one thing I know about those men, it’s that they’dliterallymove mountains to get to you.” He smiled and touched my shoulder. Then, with a nod of his head toward the inner chamber, “Come on. I’m making dinner.”
I laughed, a much-needed moment of levity. “You, man of a thousand servants, actually know how to cook?”
Kneeling before his pack, he glared up at me and shook his dark head, his violet eyes glittering. “I suppose we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”
Joining him by the fire, I sat on a fur bedroll he’d laid out for me, letting the heat of the flames wash over me in blissful waves. If not for the fact that we’d just escaped some weird witch attack and were still awaiting word from the guys, the whole thing might’ve felt cozy. Nice.
As Evander set up a small cooking pot and dropped in some basic ingredients—water, a few hunks of dried beef, herbs—I watched him in silent appreciation, mesmerized by such simple gestures. Building a fire. Setting up the bedroll. Cooking a meal for us to share.
These weren’t the gestures of a warlord bent on vengeance, a cruel murderer willing to destroy anything—and anyone—that stood in his way.
But then, hewasn’ta warlord. Not really. Just a man who’d had his entire life stolen from him, remapped and remade by the most brutal kind of monster imaginable. Every torment Evander had endured at the hands of Keradoc—the hands of the man he’d pretended to be for so long—had led him right here. Tothiscave, inthismoment, withthiswitch.
The fact that he still had the capacity for any kindness at all felt like a bit of magick in itself, and I didn’t want to squander it. Only to understand it. To understand how the man that had been our captor was now becoming something else.
Something that, if I wasn’t careful, might just sneak up on me and steal my heart.
“The key to enjoying this meal,” Evander said suddenly, scattering my thoughts, “is to keep your expectations low. That way, you’re less likely to be disappointed.”
He handed me a mug of steaming liquid, his smile turning a bit shy.
“Considering what you had to work with,” I said, smiling right back, “I’m calling it a gourmet meal. Thank you.”
“I will hold you to it.” He kept his amused gaze locked on mine as I brought the mug to my lips, blew a breath across the top to cool it, and took a sip. It was far too thin to be of much nutritional value, and way too over-salted, but it was hot, and it was edible, and I was beyond grateful.
“Well?” he asked.
