Elara’s fingers closed around the pin in her pocket, the edge biting into her skin. Her pulse raced, but she kept her face cool, meeting his gaze with a smile that was all teeth.
“Funny, you’re the first to pay me such a compliment.”
The air between them tightened, and she welcomed it, let it settle like a second skin. She wasn’t backing down. A slow smirk curved her lips, daring him to take the bait.
When he did—when he stepped into her cell—she struck.
She clamped down, the seal pulsing in her chest, snaring the rhythm of his heart.
She cut it off.
A dark thrill surged as he staggered, cursing. Blood traced a thin line from her nose. Elara didn’t hesitate. She slashed the pin toward his eye.
Even with his seal in her grip, he was faster. His hand snapped up, catching her wrist inches from his face.
Before she could react, the Hunter slammed her into the cold stone, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs.
“Stopfuckingdoing that,” he growled, seizing her flailing arms with one hand, pinning them above her head.
Fury roared through Elara as she lashed out, jerking her knee upward, aiming for that one vulnerable spot that could bring even the strongest warrior to his knees. But his reflexes were infuriatingly fast. His thigh intercepted hers mid-strike, effortlessly deflecting the blow.
Reynnar roared from his side of the bars, but there was nothing he could do to help her.
Elara’s breath hitched as the Hunter wedged his leg between hers, pinning her in place. Panic flared. She twisted and strained, every muscle screaming for escape—but the harder she fought, the tighter his grip became.
“Is this the famed Hunter’s method? Overpowering women who can’t fight back? What’s next? Going to shackle me to your bed?”
His armor pressed deeper into her wrists as he leaned in, a smirk curling around his words. “If you have a thing for being tied up and held against your will, all you had to do was ask,Hallowed.”
Elara’s eyes flared. She didn’t flinch or shrink back like he likely expected. Instead, she leaned in, deliberately pressing herself against the solid wall of his body. For a heartbeat, she saw it—a flicker of surprise, a hitch in his stance.
Her own breathing stayed steady, controlled, hiding the wildfire in her veins. A slow, daring smile curved her lips as her voice dropped to a whisper, barely brushing the cold surface of his mask.
“Is this what you had in mind,Hunter?”
The air between them crackled, taut as a bowstring, their breaths tangled in the thick silence. Then, without warning, he let go.
The abrupt loss of his weight sent Elara stumbling, her legs giving way as she crumpled to the floor.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
Even through the mask, his voice carried a rasp.
“And you’re a real piece of shit, so I guess we’re even,” Elara snapped, though the fire behind her words had dimmed. Her head pounded, a dull ache, and her limbs felt like dead weight. With a weary sigh, she slumped against the wall, the world tilting slightly as she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Her eyes remained sharp, but her strength was slipping fast.
The Hunter watched her for a long, measured moment, something close to wariness flickering in his gaze before he let out a dismissive snort. “What exactly did those Druids teach you down south? Casting without a conduit will kill you.”
Casting. Is that was she was doing?
The Druids hadn’t taught her a damn thing, but there was no way in hell she was about to tell him that.
The silence stretched again, and for a brief, foolish second, Elara dared to hope he might actually leave. But, of course, luck was never on her side.
He sank into a crouch in front of her, the gold in his eyes burning brighter the closer he got, though Elara wasn’t sure if it was real or just the exhaustion warping her senses. She was so focused on that flicker, on the intensity of his gaze, that she didn’t even notice how close he’d come—until his hand slid into her hair.
His fingers grazed her neck, the touch so soft, and unexpected it sent a jolt through her.
“What are you doing?”
