“Shit. That’s bad,” Samar bit out, and it was to his credit that he didn’t ask any further questions. “Well, let’s hope the Weavers don’t burn our camp to the ground in a few days. That fucking bitch.” He sounded pissed.
“I’ll figure something out,” Kit said, unsure of what else to say.
“Find Visha,” Samar said, “there is a way to deal with this. She can offer her own head to the Weavers. A debt paid with blood, Kit. We have kid apprentices. They don’t deserve to die because she’s more greedy than smart.”
“No”—the word tore itself from his throat—“there has to be another way.”
“You know I’m right, Kit.”
Kit hung up, not wanting the conversation to continue. He never would’ve thought that Samar would suggest such a thing.The other man had grown up with Visha, had considered Raja his father too. How could he ever suggest killing Raja’s daughter, the woman he once considered his sister?
Because Samar is a leader now. He has to think past his own feelings.On an intellectual level, he understood it. He’d seen the shift in his friend over the years, from follower to leader as Visha skirted her duties. Perhaps if Kit had been around to meet the new recruits, invest in them, he’d feel the same.
Pushing back his feelings because time was limited, Kit dug through the rest of the backpack. He needed to get those Favors and leave, preferably before Gentry woke up. He didn’t want to linger any longer than necessary.
Triumph sang through his blood once he found the first pink-tinted paper smeared with red in a small envelope. Power emanating from the small slip made his fingers tingle.
He made quick work through the rest of the backpack, which was stuffed full of electronics and old, annotated notebooks that would make any librarian proud. Dread and desperation took its hold as he realized the second Favor was nowhere to be found. He flipped through the notebooks, checked the lining, dismantled phone cases.
Nothing.
It was only after an hour of searching that Kit realized there was one last place he’d yet to check. She had to be hiding the final Favor on her person. Frustration made him clench his teeth.
That girl was too clever for her own good.
fourteen
Gentry
Gentry blissfully dreamt of nothing. Perhaps Drayer Netherton was too exhausted to torment her with nightmares the way he had at Sophia’s orphanage, or maybe he was busy buying the entirety of Skadra’s nomads to hunt for her. Either way she appreciated drifting in the abyss, relaxing, even if she was on the floor.
She knew it was a terrible idea to sleep in the same room as the witch who’d tried to kill her, but one could only run on adrenaline for so long.
So she had to rely on the Favors to keep Kit at bay. The ancient magic had done her well so far. While she wasn’t so sure of loopholes, she did think it kept the witch from trying to snap her neck again.
At least, that’s what she thought until she felt warm, strong arms lift her up. The cloud of relaxation broke as she snapped her eyes open.
Ice-cold fear ran through her as she realized Kit had her cradled in his arms like a baby. Before she could struggle, hegently set her on the bed, which felt every inch like it belonged in an acclaimed five-star hotel.
“What’re you doing?” Gentry growled, her aggression softened by grogginess. For being so freaked out, her body hadn’t seemed to have gotten the memo.
“A lady shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor,” the witch said, sounding like an old-school gentleman, but Gentry woke right up when she realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Kit was cut in the way where she could tell he used his body for work, his arms corded with muscles and every bit of him sleek and dangerous. Even in the dim light of the hotel room, it made a healthy dose of pure desire stir inside Gentry. It didn’t help that he looked at her like she was something to eat.
It also irrevocably pissed her off that he thought such an obvious trick would work on her.
“My bag—”
“—is right where you left it, darling. Promise.” Without taking his eyes off her, Kit hooked a thumb towards the wall where she’d been guarding it. Sure enough, it looked exactly how she left it.
“See?” he murmured. “Nothing to worry about. Now let’s get you settled.” He dared caress her cheekbone like she was an animal to be gentled.
The tiny amount of physical contact set Gentry’s body on fire. She clenched her legs together, her denim jeans providing enough friction to make the situation worse. She gritted her teeth. Five years of celibacy had been too long, but she needed to regain control.
She’d be damned if her streak were broken by a smooth-talking cowboy witch assassin.
Kit’s hand was still on her cheek, but he’d stiffened like he hadn’t expected her response. “You know, I would’ve thought you’d tell me to stop already. You really should. Aren’t Ione of those filthy witches you hate? Letting me touch you seems counterintuitive.” His thumb pulled her bottom lip down, exposing her teeth.
