Two, maybe three minutes left. They’re cutting it close, edging even closer to the cliff they’re in danger of tumbling down.
My pulse is steady as their deadline approaches, but beneath the surface, the Bad Wolf is scratching at the door of my composure, demanding to feed. Good Wolf is quiet—it’s accustomed to starvation.
Footsteps ring on the stone path outside.
I move deeper into the shadows, peering out through the mausoleum’s door. I have a perfect view of the iron gates leading into this sanctum, and the foggy, moonlit path leading to the rest of the graveyard. I visited the cemetery last night to find a location, and the moment I spotted the Winslow mausoleum, I knew this was the place. Bolt cutters took care of the chain on the gate, and thankfully the crypt is well ventilated—ancient as it is.
Two figures appear from the mist like ghosts.
Haven’s white apron and tiny blue dress are a beacon in the dark. The curve of her thighs above those ridiculous white stockings keeps drawing my gaze. She’s shivering, arms wrapped around herself, eyes wide and darting left and right.
Kai is practically shirtless, a tattered patchwork coat gaping open to expose his glittering chest and muscular shoulders. A top hat is perched crookedly on his head.
He stops at the gate, but doesn’t open it immediately.
I watch, fascinated, as he steps closer to Haven, says something too low for me to hear, and runs his hands up her arms.
Such a futile gesture of comfort, yet she sags against him, her forehead resting on his bare chest.
She looks tiny, fragile…defeated.
Kai wraps his arms around her, pulling her into him and resting his chin on top of her head. He holds her like she’sprecious, someone to be protected from the dark, not thrown into it.
A strange sensation unfurls in my chest.
For once, it’s not frustration or annoyance.
It’s pride.
He’s stepping up. Taking control, and protecting what’s his.
“What’s ours,”Good Wolf growls.
Bad Wolf chuffs in agreement.
Haven lifts her head. I see the shimmer of tears on her cheeks in the moonlight. She whispers something, her hand coming up to touch his jaw.
Kai stares down at her, tensing, and then kisses her.
It’s not a hesitant press of lips. It’s a collision. He devours her, his hands tangling in her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the contact. Haven melts into him, her fingers gripping the edges of his coat. She clings to him as if he were the only sane person in a world gone mad.
Bad Wolf snarls.
My hands clench into fists at my sides.
It’s not jealousy.
Jealousy implies that I fear losing them, and one cannot lose what one already owns.
So it must be hunger.
I’m starving to have that raw, unfiltered passion directed at me. I want to be the one consuming her.
I want to be between them.
They break off their kiss, foreheads touching as they smile—wan and resigned, like all hope is lost.
I step out of the shadows, but they only notice me when the heel of my shoe scrapes against the threshold.
