Eliza makes a sneak attack, and I duck her swing and try to hook her ankle. She sees it coming—because of course she does—but I make her work to avoid my counter.
"He's not wrong, though." Rowan executes a series of high kicks that would make a Rockette jealous. "Since we sealed the tears, the coven has gone silent and there's been no sign of Tharuzel or his minions. It's been almost peaceful."
"No, not peaceful." The words come out before I can stop them, paired with a sloppy uppercut that Eliza easily deflects. "A majorly powerful demon escaped the Hell Realm and is contained within the boundaries of Emberwood. The past three weeks have been us waiting for the other shoe to drop."
Eliza's gaze sharpens. "Dark but accurate."
I wipe sweat from my forehead despite the cold. "The quiet is almost worse than if he was outwardly attacking people. What's he waiting for?"
It's been gnawing at me for days, this feeling of wrongness sitting heavy in my gut. While things seem eerily quiet on the demon front, Orion says Laurel's been stirring up the coven, and Wylder's been avoiding me like I'm contagious.
That, honestly, stings more than I want to admit.
I'm assuming his withdrawal has to do with finding out about the whole blood contract with a demon thing. But what choice did I have? If I didn't agree, Tharuzel would’ve gone after my sisters.
I sigh and swipe at the hair matted to my face, trying to focus on the intentions of the alpha of the Emberwood shifters. Eliza is watching me, her narrowed eyes seeing too much. "You look tired, Poppy."
"Yeah, well, my brain is fried from too many nights staring at my ceiling, replaying every mistake I've made in the past month."
"Sleep deprivation is real," Asher pipes up helpfully. "Left long enough, it causes difficulty concentrating, poor memory, slower reaction times, impaired decision-making, problem-solving issues, and increased mistakes."
I roll my eyes. "Thanks, Ash. That's super comforting."
"I live to serve, P." He tries an advance on Orion, who sidesteps the attempt with the predator grace all the Carmicheals share. "Also, I'm worried about you."
I know he is. And I love him for it.
My haze is broken as I catch Eliza's fist inches from my face, muscle memory finally kicking in. For half a second, I feel a surge of triumph, then she sweeps my legs out from under me and the world tilts.
The frozen ground meets my back with an unforgiving thud that knocks the air from my lungs.
"You're dead." Eliza leans over me and stares. "Your focus is shit."
"Noted." I wheeze, staring up at the gray November sky.
She offers me a hand up, and I take it, trying to ignore the way my everything protests the movement.
"Don't get discouraged." Her voice actually sounds encouraging, which is basically equivalent to a parade of praise from anyone else. "Three weeks ago, you wouldn't have caught that punch at all."
"I suppose that's progress," I mutter, brushing dead leaves and frost off my leggings.
A few feet away, Orion has Asher in some kind of hold that looks uncomfortable. My best friend's face has gone red, but he's grinning like a maniac.
"Tap out, Hendrix."
"Never! I can take anything you—ow, okay, tapping, tapping!"
Orion releases him, and Asher collapses onto the ground in a dramatic heap.
"I almost had you that time."
Orion laughs. "No, you really didn't, but it's cute you think so."
Asher grins. "Did you hear that, Pops? The sexy tiger man thinks I'm cute."
"I heard."
Eliza shakes her head, but I see the smile she's holding back. "That's enough for today. Grab your water and go get warmed up."
