Amelia’s jaw sets. She doesn’t look like she’ll take my advice. She looks ready to fight. But she gives me a short, tight nodanyway. A few feet away, a Drakav is watching her with an expression that is equal parts absolute awe and alarm. His amber eyes are wide, his glowing skin pulsing with a rapid, uneven rhythm. I’m pretty sure he’s currently projecting his terror and admiration to the entire clan, but I don’t have the mindspace to confirm it.
“Okay,” Jacqui says, dropping a large basket of sorted herbs near the tunnel entrance. She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a streak of grey dust. “The lower alcove we’ll be using for the sick bay is stocked. Firebloom paste is mixed. Water is secured in waterskins.”
“Good,” I say. I wipe my own hands on my pants. My palms are sweating. I hate that my palms are sweating.
Jacqui leans against the rock wall, studying me for a long, quiet moment. Her eyes narrow slightly. “Your hair looks nicer than usual.”
My hand instantly flies up to the braid resting over my left shoulder.
I didn’t even realize I was doing it. Somewhere in the long, sleepless hours of preparation, my fingers had just automatically started working the dark strands, pulling them tight, getting them out of my face, leaving my neck bare.
The spot on the back of my neck where Kol’s sprawling hand had tangled in my hair last night suddenly burns.
“It was getting in the way,” I snap, dropping my hand like the braid is electrified. “This keeps it out of my eyes.”
“Uh-huh,” Mikaela says, walking over to join us. She drops a bundle of clean hide bandages into Jacqui’s basket. She looks exactly as terrified as the rest of us, but the cynical edge in her voice is fully intact. “Very practical. Symmetrical. Neatly parted. You definitely spent twenty minutes on that instead of panicking about the impending bloodbath like the rest of us.”
“I was figuring out where to drop the nets,” I say, glaring at her.
“Right,” Jacqui says flatly. She exchanges a look with Mikaela. A complete, telepathic conversation happens between the two of them that involves raised eyebrows.
“If we survive tonight,” Mikaela adds, crossing her arms, “you’re going to have to tell him.”
My stomach drops. “Tell him what?”
Both women groan. “Erika.”
“There is nothing to tell,” I say, keeping my voice even. “He is the leader of a lethal alien death squad. I am trying to keep us from getting slaughtered by a rival alien death squad. That is the entire extent of our interaction.”
“Right,” Jacqui repeats. “Except for the part where he stares at you like he wants to unhinge his jaw and eat you whole. And the part where his arms are showing the starfield skin and there’s only one person in this whole cavern who could have caused that. And, oh, you re-braided your hair for him before a siege.”
“I did not re-braid my hair for Kol!”
The sharp, angry denial leaves my mouth much louder than I intended. It echoes off the high, curved ceiling of the cavern.
Every single golden eye turns in my direction.
“Oh, God,” I whisper, my face burning so hot I’m surprised it doesn’t give off its own bioluminescence.
From the armory archway, Sarven’s head snaps up. Rok pauses mid-stride, a spear balanced in one hand. And Kol…
Kol steps out of the shadows.
He fills the entire archway, his bone axe balanced across one broad shoulder.
He doesn’t look like a male preparing for defense. He looks like a force of nature preparing to level a mountain.
His golden eyes lock directly onto mine and my lungs instantly stop working.
A deep, mortifying heat flood my face. I want the stone floor to open up and swallow me. I want to look away.
I can’t.
Kol doesn’t look amused. The concept of human embarrassment probably doesn’t even exist in his brain. He simply stands there, the absolute alpha of this cavern, and stares at me with a sprawling, possessive focus that makes my skin burn.
His golden eyes drop slowly. They track from my flushed face, down my neck, and lock directly onto the complicated braid resting over my shoulder.
He stares at it. He doesn’t look away.
