“Shh,” I tell her, yanking on her arm. I pull us in the direction of the gazebo, scrambling to get behind it before someone pops out. She trips, stumbling over a rock, and goes down hard; I swing my body toward her, trying to soften the impact as we roll into the burnt structure.
She lands with her face in my lap, her cheeks pinkening as she attempts to pull away. An enraged expression colors her features, and I ignore the dual sensations erupting within while I maneuver us out of sight.
“Stop fucking touching me,” she snaps.
“Would you shut up for a second?” I shoot back, clenching my teeth at the thought of us getting discovered out here.
There’s no innocent scenario anyone would believe in which the two of us could have been alone together. It would create more questions than we have answers for, and frankly, if itisDeath’s Teeth—which is highly likely—I don’t want her seeing them.
Or vice versa.
I scoot behind a solid piece of the structure, bracing my back against the bottom half of the wooden wall, and manage to drag her into my lap as the voices and footsteps grow closer. Alarm registers in her gaze, and she tenses, her knees digging into my hips.
“What—”
The look in my eyes must answer whatever was on the end of that sentence, because she cuts herself off, swallowing hard.
Her fingers cling to my sweater, and she ducks her head, pressing her nose to my neck.
Each breath she releases breaks on the surface of my skin, warming me against the cold air. I let my hands fall to the ground, trying to maintain a modicum of clarity with her straddling me.
My legs are stretched out but hidden enough.
Unless someone comes from the left, past the abandoned house. They’d see me for sure.
Bending, I draw both knees against Elle’s backside. She moves, as if trying to keep me from blocking her in, and my dick takes notice of the squirming.
I grip her hips, stilling the motions. My bones suddenly feel too large for my body.
The footsteps enter the clearing. Elle trembles violently as they speak in quiet, almost inaudible voices—but voices I recognize regardless.
Fuck.
“See? I told you no one’s out here.” It’s the Director, her obscured tone undeniable. “Your paranoia’s getting the best of you lately.”
An answering grunt, followed by words I can’t make out.
Something slams against one of the gazebo columns, and Elle jolts in my lap, clawing closer to me. She makes a startled noise, and I close my eyes, hoping they didn’t hear.
My hand comes up, cupping the back of her head. I press firmly, fitting her mouth flush with my neck even though the very action is distracting.
Better I be distracted than they learn she’s here. It’s improbable, but on the off chance Death’s Teethdoesn’tknow of Elle Anderson’s presence, I’d like it to remain that way.
“All I know is we can’t afford a fuckup like last time,” the other voice chimes, closer now, as if they’re standinginchesaway.
Elle stops breathing altogether. I dig my fingers into her hip, pressing harder on the back of her head. It’s as much to shield her as it is to maintain my sanity.
“Relax,” the Director says. “It’s all happening according to plan, all right? Everything will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Good. Because you know if we don’t?—”
“I am aware of the consequences. Do not mistake me for some bright-eyed fledgling who thinks sacrificing herself for Incarnate’s sake will have any bearing on my survival. I am not that naive.”
My muscles clench.What the hell are they talking about?
There hasn’t been an official sacrifice—the third piece of the Death’s Teeth puzzle alongside Incarnate and the Maiden—in years. Since they have no acting Incarnate, just me standing in limbo, there’s been no reason for one.
But the way they’re talking now makes me think something’s changed, and I don’t like the sound of it. Is that what the rumored ceremony was supposed to be for? To force a choice from me?
