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Hunt considered his next words carefully, fighting against his racing mind. “It could work, Bryce. But the Horn is still out there, with a drug that might be able to repair it, coincidence or no. And we’re no closer to finding it.” No, this just led them a Hel of a lot closer to trouble. He added, “Micah already demonstrated what it means to set one foot out of line. We need to go slow on the synth hunt. Make sure we’re certain this time. And careful.”
“None of you were able to find out anything like this. Why should I go slow with the only clue I have about who killed Danika and the Pack of Devils? This ties in, Hunt. I know it does.”
And because she was opening her mouth to object again, he said what he knew would stop her. “Bryce, if we pursue this and we’re wrong, if Micah learns about another fuckup, forget the bargain being over. I might not walk away from his next punishment.”
She flinched.
His entire body protested as he reached a hand to touch her knee. “This synth shit is horrific, Bryce. I … I’ve never seen anything like it.” It changed everything. Everything. He didn’t even know where to begin sorting out all he’d seen. He should make some phone calls—needed to make some phone calls about this. “But to find the murderer and maybe the Horn, and to make sure there’s an afterward for you and me”—because there would be a you and me for them; he’d do whatever it took to ensure it—“we need to be smart.” He nodded to the footage. “Forward that to me. I’ll make sure it gets to Vik on our encrypted server. See what she can dig up about these trials.”
Bryce scanned his face. The openness in her expression nearly sent him to his knees before her. Hunt waited for her to argue, to defy him. To tell him he was an idiot.
But she only said, “Okay.” She let out a long breath, slumping back against the cushions.
She was so fucking beautiful he could barely stand it. Could barely stand to hear her ask quietly, “What sort of an afterward for you and me do you have in mind, Athalar?”
He didn’t balk from her searching gaze. “The good kind,” he said with equal quiet.
She didn’t ask, though. About how it would be possible. How any of it would be possible for him, for them. What he’d do to make it so.
Her lips curved upward. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
For a moment, an eternity, they stared at each other.
And despite what they’d just watched, what lurked in the world beyond the apartment, Hunt said, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She toyed with the ends of her hair. “Hunt. You kissed me—at the medwitch’s office.”
He knew he shouldn’t, knew it was ten kinds of stupid, but he said, “What about it?”
“Did you mean it?”
“Yes.” He’d never said anything more true. “Did you want me to mean it?”
His heart began to race, fast enough that he nearly forgot the pain along his back as she said, “You know the answer to that, Athalar.”
“Do you want me to do it again?” Fuck, his voice had dropped an octave.
Her eyes were clear, bright. Fearless and hopeful and everything that had always made it impossible for him to think about anything else if she was around. “I want to do it.” She added, “If that’s all right with you.”
Hel, yes. He made himself throw her a half smile. “Do your worst, Quinlan.”
She let out a breathy little laugh and turned her face up toward his. Hunt didn’t so much as inhale too deeply for fear of startling her. Syrinx, apparently taking the hint, saw himself into his crate.
Bryce’s hands shook as they lifted to his hair, brushed back a strand, then ran over the band of the halo.
Hunt gripped her trembling fingers. “What’s this about?” he murmured, unable to help himself from pressing his mouth to the dusky nails. How many times had he thought about these hands on him? Caressing his face, stroking down his chest, wrapped around his cock?
Her swallow was audible. He pressed another kiss to her fingers.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen—between us,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said, kissing her shaking fingers again. He gently unfurled them, exposing the heart of her palm. He pressed his mouth there, too. “But thank fucking Urd it did.”
Her hands stopped shaking. Hunt lifted his eyes from her hand to find her own lined with silver—and full of fire. He interlaced their fingers. “For fuck’s sake, just kiss me, Quinlan.”
She did. Dark Hel, she did. His words had barely finished sounding when she slid her hand over his jaw, around his neck, and hauled his lips to hers.
The moment Hunt’s lips met her own, Bryce erupted.
