Running, for obvious fucking reasons.
Heights.
Tight spaces.
And apparently, the dark.
I’m learning new things about myself every gods-damned day, and it’s incredibly exhausting. Can’t a single day pass without it being an ordeal?
Gabriel, infuriating man that he is, tilts his head. He studies me like a predator watching his prey, tapping his fingers on his side.
“You’re not coming, Birdie?”
I hiss. I’m not sure if it’s his use of my family’s nickname or the question that stokes the flames of my anger.
“No, I’m not planning on it.” My voice is curt. “I don’t have a death wish.”
Who’s to say that this isn’t some twisted kind of trap? What if the moment my sisters and I go through the door, Gabriel slams it shut behind us, sealing us in? Or worse—a shudder runs down my spine, and my Mark burns—he guides the soldiers towards us?
My blood chills, and I step towards the girls.
“No,” I repeat as loudly as I dare, considering our circumstances. “We’re not going down there.”
Burning suns, I have hadenough.
This day has gone on for what feels like forever. It is an all-consuming nightmare, and my exhaustion is so deep, it’s moved into my bones.
Every day feels like the worst one of my life, and that must be some kind of record.
I’ve already almost been killed tonight, and I lost a good friend. The last thing I need is to potentially walk into a trap. Prior to all this, I might’ve found comfort in praying to the Mother Goddess before stepping into the darkness, but now I know the truth. Esyn doesn’t care about us. None of the gods do.
The prayers I learned and the stories I was told growing up are all fucking useless.
We arealone.
Gabriel’s eyes sweep over me. He passes his sword from one hand to the other, seeming to consider the situation before glancing in the direction we came from, then back to me.
“I could make you,” he suggests, raising a brow.
“What?”
He shrugs. “I could throw you over my shoulder and carry you.”
My mind happily provides me with an image of Gabriel’s arm banded around my legs, his face dangerously close to my thighs. My core heats, which is a wholly inappropriate reaction to this man—thisHunter—and I toss that reaction aside without giving it further thought.
Even though I’m drawn to him, I cannot entertain thoughts like that.
“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” I seethe.
“Try me.”
“You’d carry all three of us?” I scoff. He’s strong, but I doubt even he could do that. “I don’t think so.”
Those dream-haunting emeralds slide from me to the twins, then back.
“Hmm.” He rubs his thumb across his bottom lip, and gods, I hate myself for my inability to look away. I want to get closer and feel his lips for myself, which is an absurd thought. “I suppose you’d rather deal with the king’s soldiers?”
His voice is calm, but there’s a dark look in his eyes that has me swallowing.
