Page 10 of Wings and Shadowthief

Jack never knew what Hunter was up to, probably because of the way the shields had been designed.

It wasn’t healthy, and it couldn’t go on forever. Hunter knew enough of magic—thanks to the teachings Jack ignored, stupidly not believing they were applicable to himself—to see the end coming. They were going to explode. They were going to destroy everything in their path, unless Jack, the entity in charge of this body, woke the fuck up and learned to control it.

Another problem for another time. For now, the only thing that mattered was to keep that pretty little witch safe from her own bleeding heart.

Temptation

Unnerved and—although she’d never admit it to the smug huntsman trailing her—exhausted, Gwen tried not to let Jack Hunter get under her skin. If he wanted to follow her and keep her patients still while she worked on the wounded, why should she stop him?

The brooding, gorgeous manconfused her today. Why should he suddenly care about what she was up to? He never had before. They were vague acquaintances, thrown in the same room together a few times every month, but never paying attention to each other.

That might have been a little misleading. Gwen had paid attention to him--what single, straight, red-blooded woman didn't? In a place riddled with athletic, unnaturally fine specimens, he still managed to stand out. The abs, the taut golden skin from exercising outdoors, and the mussed-up sandy hair were common enough, but no one commanded her attention quite like him. There was a savage hint to his gray eyes, something cold and calculating that showed he belonged right here, among the rest of the freak show.

She looked at him from the corner of her eyes more times than she cared to admit. Usually, Jack didn't look back.

Huntsmen were sworn to hunt the monsters in the darkness, the vampires who went rogue, and the witches who used blood magic, human sacrifice, and other dreadful means to increase their power. What no one admitted aloud was that only monsters could hunt the worst of the supernatural creatures. Huntsmen weren't any better or worse than any of them. When it came down to it, they were sups, too. But they still considered themselves superior to the rest of them. Too good for the likes of them.

"Are you going to follow me everywhere?" She blew out a frustrated breath.

Jack was as unapologetic as ever. "Are you going to keep putting yourself in danger for the sake of wolves and leeches?"

Leeches? That was one of the most insulting things anyone could say about vampires. What a condescending ass. "Why do you care? I was in a lot more danger earlier a couple of hours back, and you weren't trailing my ass."

Jack had extended his humongous, pure white wings and taken to the sky, to serve as the eyes of Oldcrest, and dispatch enemies from a distance. Scions were rare enough, but even among them, only a few could fly. The nephilim. Not fluently versed in mythology, or sup biology, Gwen wasn't entirely sure what differentiated them. Perhaps their lineage.

He tilted his head. "Wasn't I?"

Gwen frowned. The battle had been a blur. She could fight as well as the next witch, but there was no denying that by rights of nature, vampires were much stronger. She'd stayed behind the walls of the Institute with the rest of the witches. From the inner courtyard, she spent her energy throwing protection shields at their friends, healing wounds that might have otherwise been fatal, increasing the power of their punches from a distance. Soon, the valley of Oldcrest was a messy battlefield. Friends and foes were everywhere, almost indistinguishable. Some made it past the walls, destroying a few of its shields with their magic. Gwen had focused on her survival, taking down anyone coming at her.

By the time the enemies retreated, the ground was littered with corpses. Gwen had noticed a few too close for comfort right behind her. They never so much as touched her though. She probably was the only one who’d made it out of this messy battle without so much as one wound.

She blinked, stunned and confused. "You protected me? Did Tris put you up to it?"

When Tris transitioned into a vampire earlier that day, Gwen didn't hesitate to offer her blood to help her through the change. She knew her friend would have done the same if the situation were reversed.

Her pride bristled at the idea of Tris asking her cousin to look after her, like she couldn't take care of herself.

Tris was protective of Gwen, because she knew her better than most. She realized that though Gwen always put on a brave face and attacked challenges head on, she wasn't invincible. She wasn't confident in her magic, because she had no idea of its limits, and physically, well, she was no Chloe. Or Blair. Or Tris. After practicing combat for over a year in Oldcrest, she could hold her own, but fighting wasn't her vocation.

"Tris doesn't command me," Jack replied.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, thanks, but I can take care of myself."

"Debatable."

Her eyes narrowed into slits. Did he want to get stabbed? She had a dagger strapped to her belt, and thanks to the craziness in Oldcrest, she knew how to make use of it.

Chuckling, Jack held his hands up in surrender. "Easy, tiger. You were glorious out there. But every warrior needs someone to watch their blind spot."

"Yeah? Who watches yours?" she challenged, never fond of double standards.

"No one, which is why I have these." He pointed to his torso, redirecting her attention to the sheer perfection of his taut muscles.

Gwen guessed he wasn't talking about the abs.

He'd earned several wounds, though none of them were deep. They were already closing up, healing at a rate that seemed faster than a vampire's, leaving traces of dry blood.

On impulse, Gwen reached out, placing her palm flat against his skin, right over his heart. His skin was softer than she would have thought—steel covered in silk—and ever so warm. She pushed through as much energy as she could muster, in her exhausted state. Jack took a step back. "I'm almost healed. Don't waste your strength on me."

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