“Open wide,” he said, in a voice like a lover’s.
I spat in his face, and Fischer laughed with something close to delight, before licking it from his lips. He raised his dagger with renewed glee, beady eyes roving my lips longingly.
“Hold on,” said Caelan. Fischer lowered the blade with an impatient snort.
Caelan turned his face into mine, his nose nudging possessively along my cheek before he inhaled deeply. I wanted to scream when my Flame glowed with warmth at the gentle touch, betraying me for him even now, even as it refused to come forth and protect me.
You can’t hurt me, Rosie. You know why.
But if that were true, how could he do this? How couldhehurtme?
“I have a question, before you lose your tongue,” said Caelan softly.
I threw my head back, hoping to connect with his nose, but he ducked the blow and brought his lips to my ear once more.
“And before you answer, sweetheart – do remember that I have a fucking blade to your throat, won’t you?”
I stopped moving. Not because of the blade at my throat, but because I could have sworn I felt a flicker of warmth between my shoulder blades. That the ember of heat in Caelan’s chest was reaching for me.
You can’t hurt me. You know why.
Ghostly warmth smoothed up my back, in just the way that Caelan often soothed me as I fell asleep in his arms. What was he doing?
He nodded at my silence.
“There’s a good girl. Now, talk to me. I can’t for the life of me figure out how you did it.”
Fischer’s voice echoed my own thought, just as begrudgingly curious. “Did what?”
I felt Caelan’s chin move across my shoulder, his gaze shifting.
“Anyof it. How did she get to the drunk old farmer on Yule, when we’ve got witness statements exempting her as a suspect?”
Fischer shifted, but Caelan didn’t seem to notice; he’d turned his face to mine, grazing my cheek again as he considered me. Reassuring warmth crept up my back once more, a contrast to the cold sneer in Caelan’s voice.
“And she did it again not long after, with the potato farmer.” He huffed out an unfamiliar laugh, something much closer toFischer’s awful hacking. Ihatedit. “Not that it really matters, I suppose, collateral damage is always inevitable in a Class X hunt. It’s just rather impressive, don’t you think? We’ve always thought serpents weren’t all that bright. Perhaps little Miss Rosaleen is the exception.”
Fischer gave a vicious snort. “She’s notsmart. Serpents aren’t fuckingsmart, Captain, don’t let her fool you. She’s just surrounded herself with people even stupider than she is.”
“What d’you mean, Fisch?” Caelan drawled, not bothering to look at him.
“I’ve been hunting her a while now, trying to learn what I could from those mouldy raisins we always saw traipsing in and out of here. The old drunk wouldn’t say a fucking word about her one way or the other. Wouldn’t tell me where she was from, who her parents were, how old she was, fuckingnothing.”
Tanner.
My ears were humming with static, my mind struggling to make sense of his words. Tanner. Tanner haddiedprotecting me, without even knowing why. He had never known what I was, but… he’d always talked about the plight of the ‘magic folk’.He’d never thought it fair, how we were hunted and monitored. So when it came down to it, he refused to risk a single word about me to this beast of a man, no matter how innocuous.
“I wrapped my hand around his throat – told him he could breathe again when he agreed to talk – and he declined, which is pretty bloody stupid if you ask me. So I decided to have a chat with his skinny little friend, and I found the potato farmer snooping around his house instead. Now thatwasunfortunate. Don’t know that he had that much to tell, but–” Fischer sneered. “Collateral, right?”
Collateral.Oh gods. He had killed them. He had killed them both, trying to get to me, and Caelan was –
“Right,” Caelan snorted, then sighed. “Best get on with it I s’pose. Getting late.”
My heartbeat set a blurring pace, head swimming with confusion.
He leaned in to me again, taking another long, appreciative inhale and this time I knew the gesture for the act it was. I might have missed his whisper beneath the heave of my own breath if I hadn’t felt his bristled lips move against my temple. “Be ready.”
Ready for what?
