Page 71 of Saints & Sinners

He didn’t answer as his gaze drifted to the address I’d scribbled on the paper. His jaw was set, and I could see him wrestling with his thoughts before he pocketed the note and looked back at me. “If you ever pull something like that again...” he started, his voice low, but he didn’t finish. Instead, he just shook his head.

“I knew what I was doing.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s the problem.”

Our eyes locked, and the air between us grew heady with something far heavier than anger or frustration. It was the same pull I’d felt before, that confused mixture of defiance and attraction that seemed to appear every time we were close like this. It made my body weak—made my heart beat a little faster that it would force me to panic, and from the way Hunter’s fingers tightened slightly on my arm, I could tell he felt it, too.

Before either of us could say anything more, the bartendercleared his throat, casting us a wary look. I was the first to pull away, feeling suddenly exposed.

“We should go,” Hunter said, his voice rough. “I have a map in the car we can use.”

He turned toward the door, but as he did, his hand hovered at my back, guiding me forward like he couldn’t quite bring himself to break contact. Outside, the rain had started again, falling softly as we made our way down the street. The motel sign flickered above us, and we passed it as we headed toward the car. I glanced over at Hunter, who was already staring at me. He never stopped, even as we got into the car and closed the doors.

“So, what now?” I said, breaking the silence.

His expression was unreadable, like a brick wall I couldn’t knock down. “We go, we observe, and we don’t get caught. That simple enough for you?”

That wasn’t all, though; I knew it wasn’t.

He sighed like he knew I was waiting for the extrabut.

It didn’t come. Instead, he reached into his pocket and fished out one of the weapons he’d brought with him. It was a slender blade, this one, with black leather wrapped around its handle and charred in places.

“This... is a Seraph blade,” Hunter said. “It’s a weapon that only Ascendants and Celestials can hold without getting burnt. See, it doesn’t cut like a normal blade. It sears through flesh, marking the skin and drawing both heat and life from the person.”

I didn’t like where this was going. At all.

My pulse hammered against my neck as I stared at the weapon and then up at Hunter’s face. “You’re going to carve the Riftkeeper mark onto our skins, aren’t you?”

His jaw worked back and forth as if he were reconsidering this whole night—this whole plan even. He was ready to back out, I could see. He would rather send me back and do this alone.

I looked away from him, closed my eyes and started regrettingmy life choices before I shimmied out of my jacket and raised my sleeve to my elbow. “Just... make it quick, please.” I braced myself for the sting of the blade, but when nothing happened, I peeked up at Hunter. He was staring at me so fiercely—like he was seeing me for the first time, completely captivated.

Before I could catch my breath, his arm slipped around my waist, and in one smooth motion, he lifted me onto his lap, so close that my knees rested on either side of him.

As I was about to ask him what he was doing, his attention shifted to his arm. He started cutting into the flesh of his skin, carving the Riftkeeper’s mark of arrows and a circle of thorns as if he’d remembered it off by heart. There was no ounce of pain on his face, and I swallowed nervously.

“Very artistic.” It was hardly a whisper of a joke to try and calm myself.

He looked up at me once he was finished, his stormy grey eyes searing into mine. “Put your mouth against my shoulder.”

“What?”

“Just trust me.”

I wish I didn’t.

Instead, I found myself nodding as he guided my head towards his shoulder. His skin was warm even through his shirt, but I barely had time to take a breath before he apologized, and the blade tip touched my arm. The burn seared through me like a white-hot flame, stealing the air from my lungs as the pain erupted along my arm. I started to pull back, but Hunter’s grip tightened on my waist, keeping me steady.

“Bite down, Grace,” he said, but I could hardly function straight. “It’ll help.”

Desperate to muffle the scream building in my throat, I sank my teeth into his shoulder, clamping down as the burn intensified and tears were pushed to the edges of my vision. I could feel him tense beneath me, his body going rigid, but hedidn’t waver as his hand guided the blade path over my skin.

I clung to him, teeth pressed into his shoulder, trying to find something to ground myself as the pain became sharper. He was breathing against me, low and ragged, his own body straining beneath my movements.

“Almost done,” he murmured, his voice a whisper against my ear.

I bit down harder, fighting to stay silent as he completed the last part of the mark. Then, finally, the blade pulled away, and the burn faded to a throbbing heat.

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