Page 63 of Haunted

“There you go,” I say. “Hold on to me.”

She loops her arms around my neck, her grip weak but trusting. The weight of her presses against my back as I turn, positioning her so she can cling to me properly.

“Can you hold on while I swim us out?”

A small nod against my shoulder is her only response. Her breath is warm against my neck, coming in pants that tell me she’s fighting to stay conscious.

I wrap one arm back to support herthighs, making sure she’s secure against me before moving toward the pool’s edge. The water ripples around us as I begin to swim, keeping my strokes smooth and controlled. The last thing I need is for her to slip and go under.

When we reach the edge of the pool, I hold onto the side. It’s shallow enough for her to sit down.

“Let go,” I command, but my tone lacks its usual bite.

She releases me reluctantly, perched on her knees in the water. I hoist myself out first, water streaming from me. Crouching down, I grab her under the arms and haul her up and out in one smooth motion. She stumbles against my chest, legs unsteady, and I catch her before she can fall.

“Can you walk?”

“I think so.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

She takes one step, and her knees buckle. I catch her again, muttering a curse.

Without hesitation, I sweep her up in my arms, one hand behind her knees, the other supporting her back. She makes a small protest sound but doesn’t fight me.

“Where are we going?” she asks as I carry her toward a corridor she hasn’t seen before.

“Somewhere you can rest.”

“But the Hunt?—”

“The Hunt doesn’t end for another sixty hours. You need sleep.”

I push through a door marked with the red Blackwood crest—hunter territory, strictly forbidden to prey. But fuck the rules. I wrote them, I can break them.

The room is sparse but comfortable, featuring a single bed and basic furniture, nothing fancy. I put her on the edge of the mattress, and she immediately attempts to cover herself.

“A little late for modesty,” I observe.

She glares at me, some of her spark returning. “Just because you’ve seen everything doesn’t mean I have to put on a show.” Her teeth chatter a bit as she speaks, making me rethink my assumption.

“Fair enough.” I grab a black T-shirt from the dresser and toss it at her. “Wear this.”

She catches it against her chest. “Bossy much?”

“Always.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Doesn’t sound like a complaint either.”

She slips the shirt over her head, and I pretend not to watch the way the fabric clings to her damp skin. The shirt falls to her mid-thigh, covering enough to be decent but still leaving plenty of exposed skin.

“Why are you helping me?” she asks, settling back against the pillows.

I move to the chair across from the bed, maintaining distance. “Because unconscious prey isn’t fun to hunt.”

“Right. Of course.” She curls up on her side, pulling her knees to her chest. “Just preserving your entertainment.”

“Sleep, Mira.”

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