Page 81 of Hunted in the Shadows
Jon stilled, pulling back to look at me. His brows were pulled together, a curious glimmer of—was thatlaughterbehind his eyes?
“What did you say?” Jon asked.
“Cliff told me it meant ‘heroic.’Stars, did I pronounce it wrong?”
“A better translation isdumbass—but I probably deserve that.”
I groaned, embarrassment curling through me.
Jon gave a soft chuckle—my treasured reward. “You should know his priority was to insult people in as many languages as possible. Most of what I taught him are obscenities.”
I remembered Cliff calling mecielitowhen he’d offered his advice, and now I puzzled over what harrowing insult had flown over my head. I made a mental note to freeze his flask into a block of ice when we returned to the motel room.
My arms tightened around him, as if holding him could protect him from the darkness preying on his mind. “Let me try again. I’ve been practicing.”
“Practicing?”
“Learning Spanish,” I said.“Some from the computer, some from Cliff when he’d help.”
This wasn’t how I had imagined it—exhausted and half intoxicated. I wanted to give him a piece of his world—something I was learning to hold, too.
His eyes softened in a way that made my breath catch. Jon was so often the honed weapon he had been forced to become—steely and sharp and unyielding. It felt beautiful,remarkablethat my words could make that steel bend—even a little.
“You’d do that for me?” Jon asked.
I watched the tension in his shoulders ease, his lips parting slightly as though tasting the kindness, unsure whether to trust it. My fingers tangled in his hair, gently combing through the dark strands.
“I know how much it means to you. How it reminds you of home,” I said. I pressed my lips to his temple as I worked around the foreign words. “Tu eres mi vida.”
Cliff had provided no translation for that phrase—only promised it would drive Jon crazy. I pulled away, searching his face for a sign.
“How didI do?” I asked, uncertain.
For a moment, Jon didn’t say a thing, just looking at me like I was something not quite real. His gaze—stars, that gaze—turned molten and raw. Jon’s arms circled around me, pulling me close. Then, finally, in a rough whisper, he said, “Good. Real good, Sylv.”
I let myself melt, surrendering to blossoming warmth in my chest. With our bodies tangled together on the ground, I could feel myself becoming lost to him, my restraint dissolving as his breath curled against my hair. It was dangerous to let this feeling rip through me—how I wouldn’t just learn foreign words for Jon. I would follow him into any battle. I would kill for him, to protect what goodness hadn’t been stolen from him yet.
I love you.
I tried to cut the thought back, but the sentiment was coursing wildfire in my veins. I was far too late. My greatest gift to Jon would be to keep my silence—even if a part of me cruellywantedhim to know. I wanted him to ache with me. To know that we were doomed and to suffer together.
He wouldn’t feel the same—he couldn’t possibly. I’d always been difficult to love, and we had promised each other…
He pulled back, searching my face before crushing our lips together. I could barely breathe, and I wished I could taste him properly—untethered by the numbing perfection of the spectral realm.
“How do you do that?” Jon murmured between kisses.
“Do what?”
“Make me forget how I was drowning just a moment ago.”
His breath curled against a place behind my ear, making shivers shoot down my spine. My back arched as Jon pressed a trail of kisses down my neck. “Que rica,” he breathed. “You’re sosoft.When I’m here with you, all I can think about is the things I wanna do to you. It’s fucking agonizing.”
A soft moan escaped me, but the slur in his voice gave me pause. My shoulders slumped. I wanted to give in to the primal urges racing through me, forget everything like we were in the middle of a revel. I could imagine trees rising around us. Soft moonlight. Glittering stars. I could make the illusion rise around us with crisp clarity—I knew I could.
But not like this.
I gently removed his hands from my waist.
