Nyx and I sighed (me with relief, her with an uncomfortable sexual undertone).
He pulled out a wicked dagger, knelt over the carcass, and started stabbing violently. Gore flung.
Eyes wide, I slowly got to my feet and backed away down the mountain.
Maybe I can get away before he notices?—
“Where do you think you’re going?” the Spartan rasped darkly. This time, he turned his head and stared directly at me.
Glacial blue eyes were on fire.
I froze.
“Shit—it’shim,” Nyx said.
I was jealous of her ability to swear. This was the perfect moment for it.
The Spartan got to his feet, cloaked head rising as he turned to me, sharp knife still clutched in his hand.
Kharon’s muscles bunched, chest heaving, as he pointed the knife at me.
Black blood was splattered across the shadowy planes of his sharp features.
He looks possessed.
No.Heis the thing that possesses people.
I took another step back.
“Uhm,” I whispered articulately.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Nyx said. Now she was just showing off. Herscales slid against my neck as she slithered down into my toga to hide. “You need to run, kid. As fast as you can.”
I shook my head slowly and held up both my hands in a surrender gesture.
Rule number one of surviving in rural Montana: you never run away from the predatory wildlife. If you do, you die. They like the chase.
“Thanks for taking c-care of the Titan,” I whispered as I shuffled slowly backward. My chest burned with pain, and I winced as the motion opened my wound.
Kharon stalked toward me, long legs eating up the ground, holsters stretching across his chest and bulging thighs.
His tattered black creature cloak fluttered behind him, and his gate had a slight hitch to it, like he was limping slightly.
It didn’t slow him down.
A wicked blood-covered knife was pointed forward—directly at my heart.
Shuffling back faster, I whimpered when he got close, and my eyes squeezed shut on instinct as I waited for the blow.
Warm fingers brushed beneath my chin.
I squinted my eyes open.
Kharon tipped my head up slowly, thumb trailing gently against the edge of my jaw. His right hand cupped my face, and his left hand still gripped his knife.
He leaned close—his mouth hovered inches from mine.
I parted my lips.
