Ren, Kerra, and Hunter had paused to send a Nuntial leaf to Laric and Elliott once they felt they were a safe distance from the house, but they had not received a reply, and had decided their only option was to keep heading for the road. They had been walking for several hours when Ren smelled smoke. She stopped and looked around, Kerra and Hunter pausing behind her. "Do you smell that?"
Hunter nodded and glanced around. He dropped his pack at the foot of a nearby tree and scaled it in seconds. Ren and Kerra exchanged a surprised look.
"Wildfire," called Hunter from the top of the tree. "It's pretty far off, on the other side of the house." He dropped back onto the ground, landing on his feet with the ease of a gymnast.
Ren frowned. "Wildfire like Laric was conjuring fire and it got out of control?"
"Could be. On the plus side, Laric is fireproof."
Ren glared at him, her voice coming out high. "Elliott isn't!"
Hunter's face crumpled in concern. "Ach, right."
Ren gulped. "We have to find them."
Hunter and Kerra exchanged a look. "We have nothing to go on, Ren," said Kerra. "Absolutely nothing."
"We could go back to the house," protested Ren. "Look for tracks."
"And if we found them, they would probably lead straight into the fire," said Kerra.
Hunter's voice was apologetic. "The fire is heading for the house, Ren. It will be there in less than hour. It would take us hours to get back there."
Ren felt her throat tightening. "We can't just give up on them."
Kerra reached out and put a hand on Ren's shoulder. Ren glanced between Kerra's chipped turquoise nails and her face, shocked at the kind gesture.
"We're not giving up," promised Kerra. "But there are better ways to find them. From what I've heard, you can hack up a storm. So if we got to a computer, you could look through reports from the police and firefighters, right?" Ren nodded. Kerra pulled out her phone. "We're getting pretty close to the main road. So then we could hitchhike or something? It's a pity we lost the car."
They started walking, following Kerra's lead this time. "Hitchhiking seems sort of dangerous," said Ren.
Hunter laughed. "Have you seen Kerra's axe? No one in their right mind would dare to cross us. Mind you, they might not pick us up in the first place." He had a point, Ren thought, touching the hilt of her sword for comfort.
Their feet were dragging by the time they made it to the road, and no cars were in sight. They sat down on the shoulder to rest, and waited. A few minutes later, a semi came racing along the road, and Kerra jumped up to hold out her thumb.
"I can't believe we're doing this," muttered Ren. But the semi didn't stop, and neither did any of the next five cars.
Kerra crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the pavement. "Why are people so rude?" Ren glanced at Hunter and rolled her eyes, but she was too weary to tell Kerra that she was usually the rude one, especially when Kerra was the one trying to get them a ride.
After thirty minutes, they were starting to discuss the necessity of getting up and walking further along the road when a little red Volvo stopped. A girl with dark brown skin and curly rose-petal pink hair rolled down the passenger side window and said something in German.
"Hi," said Kerra, her best smile radiating from her face, which was remarkably free of dirt, considering the circumstances. "Could we get a ride?"
"Oh, you're Americans," said the girl. She glanced at Hunter, eyeing his kilt. "Or...Scots?"
"Both," said Kerra. "So, where are you headed? Do you have room for company?"
The girl looked the three of them up and down, and Ren felt it may have been a good thing that they had hidden their swords and Kerra's axe in their packs, although they still had plenty of weapons visible. "We're going to Hanover."
Kerra glanced at Ren, who shrugged. She didn't think it mattered much where they went at this point.
Kerra turned back to the car. "That's perfect." They piled into the backseat, Ren squashed in the center between Kerra and Hunter, their packs resting on their laps. The car was blasting the same pop radio station that they had listened to in their rental car that morning, what felt like a lifetime ago.
The pink-haired girl looked around at them as the car moved off. "I'm Rosa, and this is my girlfriend, Evy." She pointed to the golden-haired girl in the driver's seat, who smiled and waved from behind mirrored sunglasses without taking her gaze from the road. Kerra smiled in turn and introduced herself, Ren, and Hunter, under their pseudonyms – Veronica, Viola, and Dylan. Ren had to admit that having Kerra around to lie for them was a great advantage.
"So, what are you up to?" Rosa asked. "No, wait, let me guess. Two American girls. I'm going to assume from your alliterative names and the fact that you look exactly alike that you're sisters. And you're backpacking through Europe, and you picked up this gorgeous specimen of a man in Scotland. Am I right?"
Ren coughed into her pack, but Hunter cut her off, smirking. "Aye, you've pretty much nailed it." Hunter and Kerra stuck to this story as they chatted with Rosa. Ren kept herself busy imagining the variety of ways Elliott and Laric could be in danger, assuming they had even escaped the fire, and when she finished with that, she worried about Rosa and Evy. They seemed nice, although Evy barely spoke, but Ren's mind was running through all of the terrible possibilities of things that could happen to people who hitchhiked, from being stabbed and left to die in a ditch to being sold into human trafficking. She soothed herself by counting her knives.
**
Elliott wasn't sure that he could call what they found civilization, but by the excitement he felt when he saw it, it may as well have been the Ritz. It was a brick, half-timbered building with smoke puffing from half a dozen chimneys, and it sat right on the edge of the river, complete with a spinning water mill. There were lights on inside and the sounds of revelry drifted through the screen door, but no cars were parked on the gravel drive that stretched back into the woods. A wooden sign hanging over the door read "Die Flügel der Fee," along with a painting of a pair of gossamer wings.
"The fairy's wings," translated Laric, stopping to gaze at the building. "This is a magical place. We have to be careful. They may not know of the death of the Dannebergs, and they certainly shouldn't find out who I am."
"But we're going in?" asked Elliott.
Laric looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Unless you would prefer to keep walking through the night?"
"Nope," said Elliott. "I'll let you do the talking, though."
Laric gave him a half-smile and headed towards the building. As soon as he opened the door and they stepped inside, the smell of roasting vegetables and baking bread washed over Elliott, causing his stomach to growl. He hadn't had anything to eat all day. The warmth, too, was striking. Elliott hadn't realized how cold and numb his legs were in his soaked jeans.
Inside the tavern, fairies ate under the light of iron chandeliers hanging from wooden rafters, which connected to a second-story balcony that leaned over the diners. On the patrons, Elliott saw wings reminiscent of birds, insects, and bats alongside the ears, tails, and horns of a variety of other creatures, as well as flowers and leaves blooming from skin. Many of the patrons looked just as human as he did, but Elliott knew from spending time with Laric, Kerra, and Hunter, that many fairies didn't show obvious signs of their ancestry.
Laric approached a woman working behind the bar and had a brief conversation with her in German, which ended in the woman leading them up the spiral staircase to the second floor, and down a hallway to the last door, marked with the number twenty-six. She unlocked the door and swung it open, handing the keys to Laric and stepping back to let them enter. The room was tiny, with scarcely enough room to move around the equally small bed, except at the foot, where a few feet of floor space separated the bed from the fireplace.
Laric's face was neutral as he surveyed the room. "It was the last room they had," he said, as the woman shut the door and left. "And I asked for food to be brought up in half an hour. Better if we're not interacting with people downstairs."
Elliott was busy trying not to look at the bed. Or at Laric, for that matter. "Half an hour?"
Laric raised an eyebrow. "So we can shower?"
"Oh, right. Um, you can go first. I'll watch...well, we don't have any stuff to watch anymore, I suppose."
Laric unbuckled his belt and Elliott looked at the ceiling, but Laric just took his sword off in its scabbard, tossed it onto the bed, and then added his wallet to the pile. "Watch that. Or not. Just stay here, will you?" Elliott nodded and Laric left.
Elliott paced in the tiny space in front of the fireplace, the wooden floorboards creaking under his feet. His mind drifted to Ren and his inability to contact her. Laric had told him that the Nuntial leaves had been in a hidden pocket in his pack, and since he hadn't had time to grab the pack, they had none. Elliott didn't blame Laric, since he had been saving his life at the time, but the loss of their only method of communication was a blow.
Struck by an idea, Elliott began searching through the drawers of the bedstand, and to his delight, found a pen and a stack of paper. The paper wouldn't help, but perhaps he could write a reply on the same leaf and send it back. Elliott took the leaf out of his pocket and studied it. He had just decided to wait for Laric before writing anything when Laric reappeared.
Laric had wrapped a towel around his waist and was carrying his sodden clothing and the considerable number of knives he had still had hidden about his body. His wet hair dripped onto his neck. Elliott looked away and coughed.
"Can we reuse this Nuntial leaf? I found a pen."
Laric grimaced and moved to the fireplace, spreading his clothes out over the grate to dry. "They don't behave well on return journeys. It won't work." Elliott swore. "Aye, I know."
Elliott left his bow and quiver on the bed and headed down the hall to the bathroom. When he returned, the food had just arrived, and he joined Laric sitting on the end of the bed in front of the fire. Laric was still wearing nothing but a towel, although Elliott couldn't blame him, seeing as they had nothing else to wear and he was now dressed the same way. As Elliott sat down, he noticed that Laric had a tattoo, a trail of flames that snaked their way across his back.
They ate in silence for a moment, watching the flickering fire behind the grate. "I haven't thanked you properly for saving my life," said Laric. "It was exceptionally self-sacrificing, and I still have no idea how you made those shots."
Elliott shrugged. The truth was that he didn't know how he had made the shots either. Archery had been one of the leisure activities at his lacrosse-focused summer camps, and he had always been good at it, but he wouldn't have expected to hit his target while falling to the ground. "Well, you saved me from the aska-whatever, so I think we're even."
Laric smiled. "Next time you need to wake me up, just shout my name. There's no need to put yourself in mortal peril."
Elliott laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."
Laric buttered a piece of bread. "So, Elliott, are you...what is it you Americans say? 'Tied down?'"
Elliott choked and spewed soup across his lap. "What? Um, no, no." He looked up to see Laric's raised eyebrow mocking him. "If you must know, my girlfriend dumped me on the day of graduation. I mean, technically, she was the third girl who broke up with me in the last year." For some reason, Laric seemed to find this depressing piece of news amusing, and appeared to be working hard to stop himself from laughing. Elliott glared at him. "What about you?"
"I broke up with my last boyfriend in May." He grimaced. "Well, there was that one time just after Ren arrived, but trust me, I'm happy to be rid of him."
So Laric dated guys, and he wasn't afraid to share that information. Elliott admired that kind of blunt self-confidence. In fact, as much as Laric's sudden question about Elliott's love life had shocked him, Elliott had to admire his nerve in asking. Elliott never could have done such a thing. Of course, perhaps Laric's appearance of confidence was because he was indifferent about the answer. Before he went too far down this rabbit hole, Elliott decided to change the subject.
"What do we do next?"
Laric looked at him, his face serious once more. "We have to decide. If there's some way we can contact Ren, Kerra, and Hunter, then we can try to find them." He swallowed. "If not, then I'm going to continue on and try to find Graf Corvus and save my mother, but I don't expect you to go with me."
Elliott felt his heart twist. "Laric, I'm not going to abandon you. You would never make it alone, anyway."
Laric gave him a half-smile that made warmth pool in Elliott's chest. "No, I expect I wouldn't."
Elliott stared into the fire for a few seconds. "Laric, you always seem so calm and composed. It's your mother's life on the line, and I know you must be terrified, but you always seem to know what to do anyway." He looked over at Laric, whose smile had vanished, his eyes darkening to a midnight shade of blue.
"I'm not calm. I'm not composed." Laric swallowed. "I think it's a prince thing. No matter how bad things are, when you're in charge, you have to act like everything is okay, while simultaneously doing everything in your power behind closed doors to fix it. I guess you could say I've learned to bottle up my emotions. But yeah, I'm terrified. I was only two when my parents disappeared, and I don't really remember them. It's more of a general sense than a specific memory. The glowing warmth that always emanated from my mother, and the smell of fire without smoke, like hot iron in a blacksmith's forge. My father's Irish accent and his huge laugh, filling the halls of the castle with noise. The idea that I could choose not to do whatever I can to get them back..." Laric shook his head, staring at the floorboards. Elliott wanted to reach out and touch his arm, but he stopped himself.
"I understand," said Elliott, and Laric turned to meet his gaze. "I lost my birth parents when I was five. It doesn't mean for a second that I love my adoptive parents any less – I would do anything for them, too – but I'd pay any price for five more minutes with my birth parents, even though my memories of them are vague." Laric nodded slightly. "We're going to find your mother, and we'll rescue her, no matter what it takes."
Laric's lips twitched upwards. "You're really something, Elliott Taylor." He stood up and Elliott watched as he dragged the bedstand over to the door and used their plates and silverware to create a booby trap that would be certain to make a racket if someone tried to open the door. "The window is our escape route. I think it's safe to sleep at the same time. We need the rest."
Elliott glanced at the bed without meaning to and blushed. "Right, well, I guess I'll sleep on the floor, then."
Laric turned away from the door, eyebrows raised, grinning. "There is literally no room on the floor, unless you want to sleep in the fireplace, which I don't recommend. Not to mention the moldy floorboards." Objectively speaking, Laric was right, but the idea of sharing the bed with him made it difficult to think straight.
"Um, okay, I suppose that's true," said Elliott. He wasn't sure, but he thought Laric's smile looked like a satisfied grin.
Laric returned to the fire and took his dry clothes off of the grate, turning his back to Elliott as he got dressed. The tattoo on his back rippled like real fire as his muscles moved beneath it. Elliott tore his eyes away and took his own clothes off of the grate. They both dressed and strapped on their knives and boots. It wouldn't make for a comfortable night, but it was better than being attacked and forced out the window without weapons or shoes.
They climbed into the bed, Elliott propping his bow and quiver against the wall, Laric laying his sword under his pillow. The bed was so small that although Elliott was as close as possible to the edge, Laric was only inches away, and Elliott could feel the heat of his body through his shirt as they lay back to back. There was a tingling sensation spreading through Elliott's body, making every nerve ending feel alive.
"Good night, Elliott," said Laric.
Elliott exhaled with care, keeping his voice steady. "Good night, Laric."
**
When they arrived in Hanover, Rosa and Evy offered Ren, Kerra, and Hunter a room in their flat for the night. Much to Ren's trepidation, Kerra and Hunter agreed and overruled her protests. It wasn't until they had climbed out of the car on the quiet side street where Rosa and Evy lived that Ren realized the full danger of their situation.
Evy walked around from the driver's side of the car to meet them on the sidewalk, her long hair swinging out of her face. She had removed her sunglasses, and Ren's gaze drifted, as though in slow motion, to her face, coming to rest on her eyes. They were yellow-green and slit-pupiled. They were the eyes of a cat.
"You're a fairy," breathed Ren, her heart pounding, preparing her body to run or fight.
"Yes," said Evy. "And the three of you are as well, no?"
Ren didn't bother to correct her, but glanced at Hunter and Kerra, who were standing as still as she was, although Hunter's hand rested on the handle of one of his knives.
"Is that why you picked us up?" said Hunter.
Rosa smiled. "Well, yes. It's usually only fairies who carry such an impressive array of antediluvian weapons."
Evy swung her keyring around a finger. "Can we take this conversation inside? Our neighbors rather kindly ignore the fact that we're fairies, and we don't need for them to find out this way."
Ren looked at Kerra and Hunter, who appeared to share her concern, and then back at Rosa and Evy. "Thank you for picking us up, and bringing us here, but I think we would be better off finding our own lodgings."
"Suit yourself," said Evy.
Rosa cut in. "But if you need anything, know that you have friends here." She insisted upon giving them her phone number, which Kerra typed into her phone.
"Was that the right call?" asked Ren as they walked away. "I know they seemed nice, but it was just weird that they didn't tell us they were fairies."
Kerra turned around to walk backwards in front of Ren and Hunter. "I think so. We don't know who they are, and it's better if they don't know who we are."
Ren took a deep breath. "Okay, so we need to find a computer." She checked her watch. "It's a little after seven on a Sunday, so libraries are probably closed. I guess we can find a hotel with a computer in the lobby."
They succeeded in locating such a hotel, and after booking a room, Ren allowed Kerra and Hunter to take their bags upstairs while she secluded herself in the empty business center, shooting furtive looks over her shoulder whenever she heard a noise. She began to relax as her fingers tapped at the keys. The rest of the world could feel so unpredictable, especially with magic involved, but computers always did what she expected.
A few minutes later, her frustration had returned. There were no police reports, no fire reports, and nothing on any news site about the wildfire. She could only suppose that it had been contained to magical land, and hadn't attracted the attention of any humans. Ren was slumped in her chair, her head in her hands, when Kerra and Hunter returned. She looked up at the sound of Kerra's high heels on the linoleum floor.
"Did you find anything?" asked Hunter.
Ren sighed. "No. Nothing. It's like it never happened – the fire, the murders, any of it. I assume there's some magical protection around the place that keeps humans from noticing such things."
Kerra and Hunter were quiet for a minute, and then Kerra spoke, her voice softer than usual. "Let's order pizza and get some sleep. It's been one hell of a day." They made their way up to the hotel room. Ren showered while they waited for the pizza to arrive. She watched dirt running off of her body and into the shower drain, images from the day flashing through her head. Those dead fairies, their blood staining the floorboards and upholstery. Graf Corvus's mark burned into the skin of a corpse. The women grinning from the hood of the car before shooting at them. She knew the memories would tangle into her dreams.
Ren sat cross-legged on the bed, the pizza box propped between her and Kerra as they faced Hunter sitting on the other bed. "I have to tell you something," said Ren. "What we saw today – it wasn't the first attack like that. Trevonna knew about a series of attacks by Graf Corvus on major fairy households. France, in April; Portugal, in May; then in Hungary at the beginning of June; and Morocco on the day of the solstice." Kerra had stopped chewing, and Hunter was gazing at her without blinking. Ren continued, "They were all slaughtered in the same way, by humans with guns."
Hunter swallowed. "It's not unheard of, for fairies to be killed by humans who catch wind of them. There's a long history of hatred. What we have in Seabhag, with so many humans living alongside fairies, and vice versa in other places around the U.K.; that's not normal." He shredded a piece of pizza crust while he talked. "In most countries, fairies keep completely to themselves. It's a measure to stay safe, but sometimes they develop an anti-human outlook as a result. Not that you can blame them, when you consider what we just saw. But that's one of the reasons so many foreigners live in Seabhag – they want to live in a more cooperative society."
Ren nodded, thinking of Kateryna and Adam. "So Corvus is just following in the tradition of generations of hate."
"Do we really know nothing about him? Corvus?" asked Kerra. Ren and Hunter shook their heads.
"I had never heard of him before this," said Hunter. "But if he's the same person who kidnapped the princess – I mean, you – and the king and queen, then he's been around a while."
An idea struck Ren, and she turned to Kerra. "Do you know anything about how you were adopted, or when, or where? If it was the kidnapper – Corvus – who gave you to social services – I mean, that doesn't really make sense, but..."
Kerra didn't meet her eyes as she answered. "No. I don't know anything."
"I wonder if I could hack the adoption record and figure it out," mused Ren.
"I doubt that he would have given an accurate name and address on the adoption paperwork," said Kerra, her voice scathing.
Stung, Ren said, "Right. Well, do you have any other ideas? If we can't find Laric and Elliott, we have to carry on searching for Corvus."
"We could ask Rosa and Evy," said Kerra. "We were supposed to ask the German royals whether they knew anything about him, right? But we can't do that. So we could ask the German fairies we've met."
At that point, Kerra's phone, which was charging on the bedstand, chirped with a text. Ren, who was nearest, saw that it was from someone called Michael before Kerra snatched it out of reach.
"Who's Michael?"
Kerra smiled and turned the phone face down on the bedspread. "No one. My boyfriend."
Ren frowned. "I thought your boyfriend was Andre."
"No, I dumped him, remember? You were there."
"Yes, but you've been with us since then. When did you have time to get a new boyfriend?"
"Who said he was new?"
Ren shook her head, glancing at Hunter, who seemed to be torn between laughing and looking disturbed. "So you were dating two guys at the same time?" asked Ren.
"Sure, something like that."
Ren took a deep breath. "Okay. Well, anyway, how are we going to ask Rosa and Evy about Corvus without revealing who we are and risking that they hand us over if they're spies?"
Kerra's deep pink lips twisted to one side as she thought. "Would Corvus be likely to have fairy spies, if he hates fairies?"
"That's all the more reason to have fairy spies," pointed out Hunter. "The best spies are those who fit in seamlessly with your enemies, right?"
"Right," said Ren, "but they might not be spies, and we have literally no other leads." A beat of silence passed. Hunter twirled around the empty box of the pizza he had finished by himself.
"So we talk to them tomorrow. Pick a public place, have an escape plan," said Hunter.
"What escape plan?" said Kerra.
Ren sighed. "I can drive again, if necessary. If your account will let us rent another car after abandoning the last one."
Kerra bit her lip. "Yeah, okay, I'll figure it out." She picked up her phone and started tapping away. "And I'll text Rosa and ask her to meet us."
**
Kerra waited until she was certain that Ren and Hunter were asleep before sliding out of bed and into the hallway, closing the door behind her one millimeter at a time, so that it made no noise. She slipped into the stairwell at the end of the hall before taking out her phone and calling Michael.
"Princess," he answered.
"What the hell was that?" spat Kerra, eschewing a greeting. "I could have died."
"I gave them instructions not to hurt you," said Michael, his voice calm and soothing. Kerra's rage did not abate.
"They were shooting at all of us; no regard whatsoever; it's a miracle none of us were hit! Why did you do that?"
"We discussed this, my dear. The idea was to get rid of those humans so that Laric would have to rely on you."
Kerra gritted her teeth. "Well, next time, tell your adherents to aim more carefully, or perhaps to employ a subtler method than blindly shooting at everything that moves!"
"Kerra, my love," said Michael. "You know I would never let anyone hurt you."
"Michael," growled Kerra. She spoke slowly, lacing each word with venom. "I don't think you understand the situation. If you continue to fail to show the appropriate regard for my life, then our agreement is over. We may be united in philosophy, but I do not need you to achieve my goal, and I am perfectly happy to do it on my own."
Silence. When Michael spoke again, his voice was a susurration. "Of course, your highness. I will be more careful in the future." Kerra's protestations faded as she remembered nights spent together in New York, and his voice whispering to her in her darkened bedroom.
"Good," said Kerra. "Look, we got split up. I'm not with Laric anymore. I don't know how to get him back on track."
"Carry on with the others. I'll see if I can redirect the prince towards your path."
"Okay."
"My adherents told me something else interesting about your little group. They said there are five of you, but I only remember you mentioning four." Kerra's stomach turned over.
"Oh, right, I forgot about the stable boy. Don't worry about him."
"I certainly hope I won't have to worry about him." Michael's voice had grown cold, and Kerra's fingernails dug into her thigh in frustration.
"Frankly, Michael, I don't think you've earned the right to comment on the company I keep."
She could hear the bitter anger in Michael's voice when he replied. "I suppose not, your highness." The honorific was a sneer.
"I have to go," said Kerra. "I'll talk to you later."
"Sleep well, my princess."
"Goodnight," said Kerra. She hung up the phone and sat down on the stairs. She knew Michael. Knew who he was, and what he was, and that he had been there for her, for her entire life. When her parents had paid her no attention, Michael had showered her in it. But if he thought he could get away with treating her like she was disposable, he would learn how wrong he was.
Kerra took a deep breath and stood, leaving the bright light of the stairwell for the shadowy hallway. Someone was there, and as the person neared, she realized with a sinking sensation that it was Hunter. Had he heard her on the phone? Did he know she had been talking to his enemy?
If so, he didn't call her on it. "I woke up and you were gone," he said. "Gave me quite a fright."
"Sorry." Kerra noticed, feeling heat rise in her neck, that he was shirtless and wearing only pajama pants. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted how strange it was to see him in anything other than a kilt. "I, um, had to call my boyfriend."
He raised his eyebrows. "You dinnae strike me as the kind of person who misses her boyfriend this much. Especially as you've never mentioned him before."
"Well, you don't strike me as the kind of person who knows what it's like to love someone." She could tell from the look in his eyes that she had hurt him; had dug beneath that impenetrable outer shell of confidence, and to her surprise, she felt guilty about it. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean that." She swallowed and looked up at him. She was usually almost as tall as him in her heels, but she wasn't wearing them, and the height difference made her feel vulnerable.
"It's alright," said Hunter.
Kerra shook her head. "No, it's not. It was rude. I'm sure you have loved someone."
He studied her. "Not in a very long time. You know, sometimes I think you might have a heart after all. You must miss your boyfriend. Do you want to talk about him?"
Kerra was becoming aware of how close they were standing, at the same time that Michael's words were ringing in her head. I certainly hope I won't have to worry about him. Well, Kerra thought, maybe a little bit of worry would be good for Michael. She reached for Hunter, sparks flaring in her fingers as they closed around his hand.
"You know," said Kerra. "I really don't want to talk about him."
Hunter looked down at their interlocked fingers and then back at Kerra. "Okay...what do you want to talk about?"
"Who said I wanted to talk?" said Kerra. Hunter frowned and stepped backwards, but she tightened her grip on his hand and pulled him closer. Kerra lifted her other hand, and when her fingertips met his skin, tracing a path across the defined muscles of his stomach, his breath caught, but he didn't stop her.
Hunter lifted his free hand and moved it slowly towards Kerra's face, stopping just before he touched it, and running his fingers through her hair instead. Kerra's fingers trailed across Hunter's chest and then circled around the back of his neck, pulling his face towards hers. Hunter's green eyes bored into Kerra's turquoise ones, and his breath tickled her lips.
"You said that sometimes you think I might have a heart after all."
Hunter inclined his head, which brought their faces even closer together. "Everyone has a heart. What matters is whether you listen to it."
A smile twitched across Kerra's mouth. "And what if my heart is telling me to do this?"
Kerra pulled his head down, their lips met, and the slowness of their movements was washed away in the tsunami that was the kiss. Hunter's lips were fierce under hers, somehow tasting like whisky and rain, even though they hadn't seen either in days. His hands were suddenly moving, tangling in her hair, scrunching up her shirt, pulling her body closer. And then Hunter pulled away, leaving Kerra feeling dizzy, his hands still holding her by the elbows.
"I thought," said Hunter, breathing heavily, "you were out here to talk to your boyfriend."
Kerra cursed herself for coming up with such a stupid lie. "My boyfriend is a manipulative, controlling jerk, and I want to be rid of him." Some vague part of her mind realized that there may have been truth in that statement, but it was lost as Hunter kissed her again, and her thoughts were overrun with desire. Her hands traveled up his back, pulling him closer, twining in the curls of hair at the nape of his neck.
She gasped as Hunter's arms tightened around her waist, picking her up as though she were a feather, and he pressed her against the wall. She felt the touch of his tongue against her lips, and she parted them, colors dancing behind her closed eyelids as he pressed closer and she kissed him back, their tongues and teeth and lips clashing. Kerra bit at his lip and her body trembled as he growled in response and pushed her harder into the wall. Fire followed the path of Hunter's fingers as they traced the bare skin between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her pants. Kerra's feet left the ground as she wrapped her legs around his waist, and his fingers clawed at her thighs, the thin fabric of her pants threatening to rip.
Kerra had kissed a lot of boys; more than she could count, but never before had kissing someone made her feel so alive. Even kissing Michael wasn't like this – Michael kissed her like he wanted something from her, and she kissed him back the same way. Hunter kissed her like he wanted to give her all of himself; like he thought she was good enough to deserve that gift.
The sound of a door opening cut through the hallway, and they pulled apart as though someone had drenched them in cold water. To his credit, Hunter didn't let her fall, and Kerra placed her shaky legs underneath her as they looked towards the noise. Ren was standing outside their room, with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised.