Page 90 of Cursed Shadows 4

Boil looks down his slanted nose at me. His lashes are low over his eyes, pupils dilated with the thrill of the kill—one that stumbled right into him.

He isexcited.

That is betrayed in the small curve of his mouth, as though threaded at the corner and tugged.

Before I can blink, before I can utter a word or turn on my heels and bolt in the other direction, Boil moves for me.

And he moves fast.

He is a sudden blur of translucent flesh and sandy hair and glossy brown leathers.

I blink with the surprise of his advancement, the sort of slack shock on my face as though I’ve just been lobbed off the head with a slice of bread.

Then he retreats a step, that stupid smirk still painted onto his face.

I just… stare at him.

I’m sure I look too much like a stunned fish out of water.

Then I feel a tingle at my waist.

Numb, I reach my hand to the tickling sensation, where I felt his touch, his grab—and I expect my gloved hand to pressagainst something slick, something hot, something a lot like my blood.

No such sensation finds me.

I look down at my waist, a frown knitting on my brow. But there is no blood to be found because Boil didn’t strike me with a weapon.

He took mine away.

I hide the panic from my gaze.

My jaw tenses for a swift heartbeat before I school my face into something soft.

I look up at him.

I hear the thud. The clang of weapons knocking off each other. Metals striking, thrumming with song. He drops my weapons belt to the forest floor, right at his boots.

I don’t even glance at it, no matter the temptation, the tugging lure of my gaze downwards.

I keep my soft gaze on his wicked one.

I have no scheme yet, no plan, but I am certain that keeping a stupid look on my face—to maintain his foolish thoughts of me as no threat at all—is the smart move while my brain scrambles for something.

The severity of this isn’t lost on me.

Boil is more of a threat than the litalf I killed in the rockpool, or perhaps any other light one out here.

This, to him, is personal.

He made sure I knew that by stealing away my weapons, when his first move, his only move, should have been to kill me where I stand.

He is in no hurry.

He means to take his time with me.

I fight the lump swelling in my throat.

Boil leans his shoulder on the mammoth rock. “Why are you not with your dark one?”

---