Sunvine.The name fit the plant she’d found. Hope fluttered in her chest, a fragile, desperate thing.
“You know where it is?”
“Sunvine is rare. It only grows in one place. And that place is sacred to my people.”
Disappointment washed over her, so bitter it almost made her nauseous. “So you won’t help me.”
“I did not say that.”
She blinked.
“You’re trespassing,” he continued, taking another step closer. Now he loomed over her, a massive silhouette against the silverleaf trees. “The penalty for trespassing is death.”
The fragile hope died. She’d been a fool to come here, a fool to think she could solve this problem. Her uncle would take Dani, and it would be all her fault.
“Unless,” he added, the words a low rumble that vibrated through the air between them.
“Unless what?” She forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to look away even though every instinct told her that direct eye contact with a predator was dangerous.
Silence stretched between them. The wind whispered through the silverleaf trees overhead, and somewhere in the distance, a bird called. The Vultor remained motionless, watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.
“Unless I decide differently. Why should I help you?” The question was quiet, but there was something underneath it, something that sounded like genuine curiosity rather than dismissal. “Your people and mine have no love between them.”
Her mind raced. What could she possibly offer a Vultor warrior? She had no weapons, no money, nothing of value except…
“I’ll do anything you ask.”
Those emerald eyes fixed on her with renewed intensity. “Anything?”
The word hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. She knew she should be afraid. She knew the stories about the Vultor, about what they did to humans who wandered into theirterritory. She knew what he might ask. But all she could think about was Dani’s pale face and the rattle of her breathing.
“Anything,” she repeated. “Name your price.”
Something shifted in his expression. The predatory edge softened slightly, replaced by something she couldn’t identify. He was silent for a long moment, studying her with those unnerving eyes, and she had the uncomfortable sensation of being weighed and measured.
“You would bargain with a Vultor?” There was a hint of dark amusement in his voice now. “Your village council would be horrified.”
“My village council can hang. They’re part of the reason I’m in this mess in the first place.”
The words came out bitter, and his head tilted in an oddly wolfish gesture of curiosity. But he didn’t ask for an explanation, and she didn’t offer one. Instead, he took a step closer, then another, until he was near enough that she had to crane her neck to look up at him.
This close, she could see the details she’d missed before. The faint scars that traced across his forearms, pale lines against the silvery bronze of his skin. The sharp points of those gleaming fangs. The green glow in his eyes wasn’t constant—it flickered and pulsed like a banked fire, brighter when his gaze intensified.
He was terrifying.
He was also, she realized with a jolt of surprise, striking in a way she hadn’t expected. The harsh angles of his face held a certain brutal beauty, and his eyes, for all their inhuman glow, were intelligent and searching.
Not helpful, she told herself firmly.Focus.
“I will show you where the sunvine grows.” His voice was low, pitched for her ears alone even though there was no one else to hear. “In exchange, you will owe me a debt. A favor, to be claimed at a time of my choosing.”
“What kind of favor?”
“That remains to be seen.” His lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Perhaps I will never call upon it. Perhaps I will ask something small. Perhaps…” He let the word hang in the air.
Her throat tightened. A nameless debt to a Vultor warrior. It was madness. It was dangerous. It was her only option.
“Deal,” she said, before she could talk herself out of it, and offered him her hand.
