I huffed a laugh. He flashed a grin so bright and sweet, it brought tears to my eyes.
“A lot of years have passed, and I’ve made some good decisions and some dumb decisions. But today, right now, I know I’m finally making the best decision in my life.”
He was still clutching that box in his hand, but now he seemed to notice it. He didn’t look away from me, hadn’t once since he’d started talking, but his hand loosened. I could see it in the angle of his shoulder, in the slow inhale and exhale.
“Ready?” he asked.
I had no idea what he was asking me, so I nodded.
I heard a soft sound, a scratch, a whisper behind me. Like paper stars rubbing together.
No, louder. Like an envelope ripping open.
Several things happened at once.
Ryder began lowering himself, as if he were about to kneel, but he paused, his eyes going wide at something behind me.
I was already turning, Jean’s hand pushing my shoulder, Myra shouting as she pulled her gun.
Everyone was moving, all the werewolves, the vampires, the gods, and—Hell. There were so many more people here now, people who I’d known all my life, almost the whole town of supernaturals and gods. They’d gathered while I’d been lost in Ryder’s eyes.
I got a brief look, just a glimpse, of Bathin, the envelope caught between two fingers, his eyes narrowed, furious.
Furious at a man—no, demon—standing in front of him. Furious because that demon—same dark hair as Bathin, same royal bearing, but the rest of him thinner, leaner, all whipcord and hatred—plunged a sword through Bathin’s gut.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The air was knockedout of my lungs, and sand was everywhere—in my mouth, my eyes, my hair and ears. Sand smooshed down the neckline of my dress and slithered into my boots. I pushed to get up and realized there was a body covering me. A very familiar body.
“Stay down,” Ryder growled, his breath hot, his beard scratching my cheek.
“Get off—” I started, but then the strangest thing happened.
Bathin laughed.
Not one of those weird, shocky giggles some people went into when they were in pain. No, this was a derisive bark. A challenge. Loud and hearty.
“Is that it?” Bathin demanded. “Myra,” this in a much softer tone, “put the gun down. It won’t work.”
“I’ll shoot him, and we can find out.” She sounded furious.
“Ryder,” I grunted. “Get off of me!”
He shifted—smart, because I was about to go for an elbow to the ribs if he’d held me down a second longer.
I wormed out from under him at the same time he stood. We sort of tangled up there for a minute, but ended standing, more or less side by side, even though he kept trying to put his body between me and the demon.
“Myra,” Bathin tried again.
“Turn around asshole, so I can shoot you in the face.” Wow. My sister was more than furious. She was…I’d never heard that kind of cool violence from her.
Bathin must have caught onto her tone too, because he took a couple steps forward. Rightthroughthe demon who was still standing there, back toward us.
“Baby,” he said, walking into the muzzle of her gun and putting his hand on her wrist. “I’m good. I’m fine. Don’t shoot me.”
She blinked like it was the first time in an hour. Angry tears slipped from the corner of her eyes.
“What in the hell, Bathin!” She dropped her gun back in her purse and reached for him, but didn’t seem to know where to put her hands since the sword hilt was still sticking out of his gut. “He stabbed you. Holy shit, we need an ambulance. Delaney, get an ambulance.”
