Another voice, almost right outside the door. “Nothing. Just dust and old furniture.”
“Then what’s the smoke from?”
“I told you. Probably some vagrant trying to keep warm.”
A pause. Then the first one said, quieter, “Doesn’t smell right. There’s something else here.”
My stomach dropped. They could smell it. The faint trace of blood, or me. I reached blindly for anything to use as a weapon. My fingers brushed against a wire hanger.
I snapped it in half and gripped the sharp end, absurdly aware of how useless it would be against trained hunters.
The floorboards creaked again. Closer. And then?—
The door yanked open. I flinched back, arm raised, only to freeze.
“Simon.”
Kit’s voice.
Relief crashed through me so hard my knees nearly gave out. He was sweating, hair damp, breath ragged. The faint scent of iron and dust clung to him. He’d run all the way here.
“Kit—”
He didn’t let me finish. He reached in and caught my wrist, pulling me against him before I could react.
“Shh,” he breathed against my ear. “They’re still here.”
I went still, every nerve screaming at the closeness of him. His chest pressed to mine, heartbeat steady despite everything.
His arm came around my shoulders, holding me there. Not roughly, not like restraint, but as if he needed the contact as much as I did. Outside, the hunters’ voices drifted down the hall.
“Looks abandoned to me.”
“Maybe. Let’s check the rest.”
Kit’s hand tightened slightly at my waist. I could feel the tension in him, every muscle coiled, ready.
For a heartbeat, it didn’t matter that he was human and I wasn’t. We were just two creatures trying not to die. We waited.
Footsteps receded slowly, then the slam of the front door broke the silence. Kit didn’t move immediately. His breath brushed my temple, quick and uneven.
“They’re gone,” he whispered.
I let out a shaky exhale I hadn’t realized I was holding. The broken hanger slipped from my fingers. He drew back just enough to look at me.
His hand was still on my arm, his thumb brushing absently against my sleeve like he couldn’t quite stop touching me.
“Are you okay?” Kit asked, voice low but steady.
I nodded, though my throat felt tight. “You got here fast.”
“Yeah, well.” Kit tried to sound flippant, but I could hear the fear under it. “You didn’t think to run?”
“There wasn’t time,” I explained.
He gave a humorless laugh. “You and your death wish.”
“I didn’t ask you to come,” I pointed out.
