“They’re busy,” I say, a yawn forcing its way out.
“So are you.”
He says it simply, like it’s a fact and nothing else. A piece of guilt falls off my shoulders, and I suck in a breath, flooding my nose with Ali’s spicy scent. I’vemissed having him close. For a while there, we were a team, and I don’t want to lose that.
“Don’t fuck up again,” I mutter.
He huffs, and his breath ruffles my hair a second time. “I’ll do my best.” His voice turns crafty as he adds, “But only if you sleep.”
“Are you threatening me, Alistair?”
His grip tightens, and my stomach flips. I can handle snarky teasing. That’s normal for us, familiar even, but Alistair never does anything the easy way.
“Never,” he hisses, his surge of intensity taking me off guard. “Now, please rest. We need you, Luca.”
I’m either too tired to argue or he slid some compulsion into his words, because I drift off before I can respond.
I wake to Celine’s fingers in my hair.
“Everything’s fine,” she whispers. “We think it’s daytime.”
I blink in the grim darkness of the tree bunker. It’s not any lighter than it was when I fell asleep, but it does seem warmer.
I sit up, swallowing a groan as every ligament, tendon, and bone in my body complains. I feel like I got hit by a truck; my fingernails even hurt. Fuck, if this is what it’s like to grow old, I don’t want any part of it.
“Can you walk us through the eclipse schedule?” Celine asks. “When’s the next one?”
“Around noon,” I say. “But we’ll be able to tell if we keep an eye on the sky.”
“We need to get back to the Fringes,” Alistair says. “There must be a portal.”
I scrub my hand over my chin, wincing at the rough drag of my stubble. “Yeah, and it will be intensely guarded by the only shifters here who aren’t trying to escape this rock.”
“But we’re intensely dangerous,” Celine argues.
I kiss her softly. “Did you wake up bloodthirsty, baby?”
She scoffs. “That’s Alistair’s thing.”
“Terrible joke, hot wings.” Ciprian groans as he stretches. One of his legs is tangled with mine, and the other grazes my hip.
It’s still dark in here, but now that my eyes have adjusted, I can tell there are levels to it. When Malach stands over us, he casts a shadow. “I’m climbing out to have a look around,” he says.
“I’ll come with you.” I hold my breath as I lurch to my feet and my muscles protest.
“Take it easy,” Alistair grunts, steadying me with the same hands that held me while I slept. “I’ll go with the murderous angel.”
My lips twitch. “It was judgment,” I say, mimicking Malach perfectly, all the way down to the accent and inflection.
Celine laughs, and we watch as the two of them shove the ice aside and squeeze through the hole. Bright light streams through the opening. It has a cool tone, almost blue—another reminder that we’re not on Earth anymore.
“Who do you think would win in a fight?” Ciprian asks, his handsome face tilted toward the entrance to the bunker.
Celine cocks her head and hums, strands of flame-red hair framing her cheeks. “Depends on what weapons were available. Malach has more combat experience?—”
“But Alistair is crazier,” I say, bumping her hip with mine, then regretting the movement.
“Neither of them would last a minute against our girl.” Ciprian tosses a playful punch at Celine’s middle, and she smiles sharply before wrapping him in a headlock.
