Page 20 of Hunted in the Shadows
“When did you get so cocky?” Cliff asked, chuckling through the diffused tension.
“When I realized how badly you needed me around.”
A new kind of melancholy strain rippled from my statement, especially when Jon and I briefly locked eyes. We shared silent questions that neither of us knew how to answer.
I owed it to my family to reach Aelthorin as soon as possible. I should be among my own kind again, not traipsing around with hunters. But the longer I stayed, the harder it was for me to picture settling into a village for good. It would mean parting ways with Jon—likely forever. With each passing day, the mental image of saying goodbye became foggier.
More than ever, I found myself regretting our safe plunges into the spectral realm. Every visit only made my forbidden wanting grow.
Yet, it was a mistake I would willingly make over and over.
6
Jon
Sylviahad, thankfully, come to understand that she shouldn’t fly in front of the driver’s side of the car while she was admiring the landscape. I could hear her flitting around in the back seat, unable to settle on which window held the most interesting view. I was envious in a way; it would be nice to stretch my legs without sacrificing the efficiency of our drive time.
We had left the dense forests of the Ozarks seven hours behind us. Sylvia surely noticed our surroundings flattening; expansive fields ribboned with creeks stretching out on either side of the road as we drove deeper into Louisiana marshes, the setting sun reflected golden on the water.
“Uh, guys?” she called out from the backseat. Notching down the music, I twisted around to see her perched at the back passenger window, tapping the glass. “Shouldn’t we be taking care of that? That field is swarming with kelpies!”
“Horses,” I corrected, suppressing a bemused smile at the reminder that Sylvia knew more of monsters than ordinary animals from her limited studies in Elysia. “They’re totally harmless. All they’ll do is eat the grass out there and shit. Most people love them.”
“Herds of anything are rarelyharmless,” Sylvia muttered, a pinch in her expression. “But I suppose I’ll trust your judgement.”
She looked between me and the field once more before spreading her wings and looping gracefully back to the other side.
“We gotta make a side trip to a zoo sometime so she can see a giraffe,” Cliff remarked under his breath, grinning ear to ear. “She’ll lose her fucking mind.”
I snickered as I imagined her pretty face contorting into utter shock as she followed the length of the animal’s long neck. I indulged further, picturing Sylvia lighting up as we encountered more impressive landscapes as we journeyed west: rolling hills, wide-open skies, and eventually, the alpine meadows and foothills of the Rocky Mountains. I could practically hear her awed gasp in my ear and see the flush in her freckled cheeks.
But the more we saw, the less time we would have together.
Leaving her was inevitable—it wasright. But I wasn’t in the mood to dwell. As it was, Sylvia’s presence was surreal. This beautiful, ethereal creature choseme.
I never understood how some people softened at the edges and let someone in without flinching, without fear. I’d long since resigned myself to the easy routine of one night stands and the detachment of fleeting hunting partners; no expectations, no strings, sometimes not even names. Entanglement without feeling was simpler, even preferable at times. Solitude fit snugly, familiar like a well-worn glove.
But Sylvia—she knew how to pry open my carefully laid armor with a grace that made my chest ache—gentler than any woman had ever been to me. The vulnerability chafed sometimes, if only for a moment. Even as I was drawn into her, I knew I couldn’t keep her, which only reminded me of why I’d built those damn walls up in the first place.
I had to let her go.
Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, casting a shadow over the already darkening road ahead, as though mirroring my surly train of thought. I hoped it would pass quickly; we were only an hour out from our destination. Not that I was keen on arriving. If there were any other outposts within range, we wouldn’t beheaded anywhere near this place. Too many memories. Too much risk. The Underground in New York or the Nevada Outpost were much further drives—too risky to be undersupplied that long and unfair to Sylvia to stretch our journey longer than we already had.
After another minute, Sylvia found a perch by my window. A faint wince crossed her face as she folded her wings. She must have been particularly sore to finally settle. Her yawn seemed to stretch out forever. Any concerns I voiced would be brushed off, but I studied the exposed line of her navel. The bruising was stark against her fair skin, though mostly hidden by her elegant, earth-colored wrap sweater.At least she was resting now.
“Jon, can I ask you something?” Sylvia said.
The half-lidded look she swept over my body caught my attention. “Fire away.”
She arched her back, a coy smile curving her lips that matched the fox-like sparkle in her eyes. “Now that you know I’m not a vicious creature of the night… Is the spark of excitement between us gone?”
I huffed out a chuckle, forcing my tone into a deadpan drawl. “It’s funny you ask because yes—it is. Not a spark in sight.”
A playful pout flashed over her face. With a flick of her wings, she was airborne—landing on my shoulder.
“Maybe I’ll show you more of my tricks, then,” she breathed.“One. By. One.”
I felt her soft body press deliberately against the sensitive skin of my neck as she stretched out an arm to tap my throat in three spots to punctuate her words, fingertips so cold that it was almost painful. I moistened my lips, but my mind was abruptly blank, and I could only manage a pathetic little exhale. The fact that this kind of thing worked on me was almost embarrassing.Jesus,what was wrong with me?
