One day I swear I’m going to have my own clothes in my own wardrobe, and they won’t have any leftover associations with dead women or being the center of unwanted attention.
“Go,” he says, waving toward the bathroom.
And I’m not going to argue, a girl has to pee. With my arm up to shield my face, I step into the little bathroom alcove. Five steps – which surprisingly is enough to get to the toilet without needing Killian to join me in here. Thank chuck for small rooms.
I flip the lid closed and pull the chain to flush, then barely turn around before a set of clothes smacks into my face.
My world washes with leather and citrus and books and metal and vanilla and lavender. So many scents that swirl and mix in my chest – binding to have one meaning. Pack.
I don’t have Pax’s clothing issue, or maybe it’s Thane’s, but I suddenly have an appreciation for what we smell like. I cup the items before they can hit the floor and inhale deeply.
Pack.
“Hurry up,” Killian grumbles.
“I am,” I call back, which is a lie, because I’m still sniffing the clothes.
“I can smell lies.”
“I hope they smell better than jealousy, or living with Seth must be hell,” I say, finally snapping out of my clothes moment.
I tug Killian’s shirt over my head and slip into the new one. It’s rust red Silvari cotton, snug across the middle with long winter-appropriate sleeves. The pants are a sandy brown color and lacking any of the leather reinforced parts I’m so used to wearing on the guys’ clothes. Last thing, the small dagger that was in my pocket. I feel a little naked with just one treasure.
“Killian –” I begin, with every intention of asking where my darts are.
Except he interrupts with, “Leaving,” and in the same second he must have started walking because I’m immediately pressed against by the biggest pain in my ass ever created by man or magic.
“Killian, wait, hold up,” I call, trying to catch him on the stairs.
I don’t catch him until he stops in the kitchen, and shoves my dart cuffs at me – both of them.
The skinny little ones with the twist and the wider, almost arrow-tipped ones with ribbons on the ends.
“Your arm’s mended now,” he explains.
That’s why I was only wearing one cuff, because it was impossible to pull darts with my arm broken.
“Kunai,” he says, motioning for me to put the ribboned ones on my leg. I obey. “Dragon dart,” he adds, pulling my arm into his grip and making light work of getting the cuff on my right wrist. “Good.”
Then he’s walking past me again, heading outside and dragging me by my bubble. This man is in a serious hurry.
The day is bright, birds are singing, and there’s a slight breeze that is rustling the tops of the trees, but something feels off. Like Lord Martin’s whiskey glass has already been knocked off the mantelpiece and we’re all watching it fall because there is no way to stop it, or fix it, or save it. At any second now, it will shatter with a heart-stopping glass on stone echo. The kind that puts fear right to your bones.
Any second.
That’s how the world feels today, like any second now it’s all going to go wrong. Even Ximena herself is heavy with an air of being ready for the end.
And it’s not because of Jada, she’s nowhere in sight.
“So,” the words begin, my mouth clearly wanting a distraction from what’s going on in my head. “What are we doing?”
“I have an idea.”
“A violent one?”
“No,” he chuckles. He sets a cracking pace over the boulders and moves sharply toward the trees, motioning at the frantic way I’m trying to keep up. “I do like this, though.”
“What? Making me chase you up a hill?”
“Yeah,” he rumbles.
Which leaves me at a loss for words. It almost feels like it should be an insult or a threat, but I think it’s supposed to be a compliment.
Or maybe just a statement of fact. I really don’t know.
I follow him up the hill, watching his heels as they crush down the fresh green growth. Then struggling to stick as close as I can to his heels as he lunges up the boulders. Don’t these guys understand the limitations of a mortal?
He doesn’t stop, though, and I know better than to ask him to.
He leads. I follow.
That’s our relationship.
Upside, if there’s a swarm of blue spiders, he’s going to walk into them first – I’m good with that.
We climb all the way up and into the trees, where the axe is still embedded in the log Seth started destroying yesterday.
When I woke up, I would have sworn I was fine, but the ear-shaped, semi-permanent wisp of darkness sticking out of the folds of Killian’s hood is a testament to my failing mental state. His hood is drawn back, hanging about level with his shoulder blades. The black linen is a little stiff, and I could flick pebbles into it with ease. The hood of his vest, his muscled arms, and the cuts of his biceps are an unobstructed view. I can see all of that fine – but this creature-shaped shadow can’t be real.
He’s scanning the cleared area, and though I’m not a hundred percent sure why we’ve come back up here, I’m thinking it’s to collect wood for the fire. Fires need wood.
“Question,” I begin, stepping up in front of Killian and trying to get his attention.
He finally looks down at me, giving a little ‘I’m listening’ noise.
“Can you see that too?” I ask, pointing to make it very clear that I’m asking about a hallucination on his shoulder.
One little ear and one beady eye is peeking, looking at me like it’s curious but shy.
Killian grabs my hand and folds my pointing finger back into my fist, snapping, “No.”
“Okay, what
