Svetlana hovers closer, moving back and forth aggressively on her legs. “Want me to behead him?” she asks me, her razor arm clicking in warning as she watches Havoc.
Havoc glances from me to her and back again, completely unconcerned.
“No,” I tell her. “He’s not going to hurt me.”
“My hand is around your throat,” Havoc grunts, his face leaning closer, his eyes peering into mine.
I smirk. “If you think I don’t want it there, you’re not very aware at all, Warden.” His eyes drop to my lips. It’s a small look, one he clearly didn’t intend to take, but I catch it all the same. “That’s it,” I push. His power had disappeared, as if he couldn’t focus to keep me restrained, and my arms fall to my sides. I run my hands up his body, settling on his waist and holding on.
At my touch, he scoffs and pushes away from me, leaving me suddenly very cold with the loss of his warmth pressing into me. His power disappears completely, leaving the air charged in a strange way. I have yet to taste such strong power, with the exception of the Leech, and I’ll admit, the taste of it is intoxicating.
“Pity,” I say, straightening and tugging at my clothing. “I was looking forward to you fucking me against this wall.”
Havoc narrows his eyes on me. He hesitates for a second before he grabs my chin roughly and jerks my face up. He leans down so his face is in mine, his breath hot against the chilly night air.
“When I fuck you,” he growls so low, I almost don’t catch it, “it won’t be something as gentle as fucking against a wall.”
And then he shoves away from me and disappears into the crowd. I’m left to stand there, staring after him, panting like a dog in heat.
“He saidwhen,” Svetlana says.
I frown. “What?”
She moves along my shoulder so she can look me in the eyes. “He says “when,”Umnitsa,” she repeats. “He did not say ‘if.’”
My eyes widen and I look for him in the crowd again, but he’s already gone, and I’m left standing here wondering if I’d imagined the whole interaction . . .
. . . or if the legend of the Harrow really wants to fuck me as much as I do him.
CHAPTER46
VESPER
We fill our bellies in the safehouse the rest of the evening, but all of us avoid the giggle water. The best we do is order some weak bourbon to chase the generous food portions we manage to shovel down, before we end up crashing in our own rooms.
Stevie goes with Locke and probably acts like a perpetual night light that would drive me nuts. Svetlana curls up at the foot of the small bed in my room after we clean ourselves in the shower, and then I sleep. Hard. I have no dreams. I don’t even linger in that half-asleep, half-awake mode that often plagues me. Instead, the moment my head hits the pillow, I’m out. The next conscious thought I have is upon waking up and realizing that I slept for twelve hours straight.
I stand and stretch, letting my bones pop and my body reacclimate to being on my feet. Svetlana, upon my waking, stretches as well, standing on her hind legs and extending her arms as high as she can. The poodle is gone, back to the Bag of Tricks, thankfully. The poodle, that Svetlana has fondly started calling “little shit,” was not the most helpful of creatures. Hopefully, the rest of the bag isn’t so terrible.
“Oh, yeah,” she groans. “That was a good sleep.”
I glance at her and nod. “It was. I really needed that.”
“We all did,” she agrees. “With the exception of Steve.”
Ah yes. Stevie. He hasn’t decided to leave us yet. I’m not sure how long it’ll be before he decides his debt is paid and leaves us for good. He really has no connection to us other than the Howling Wind Ice Hotel and freeing him from his prison on top of the tree. I’m happy for him to be with us for as long as he’d like, but it is a little strange to have the ball of eyeballs and wings floating around after us all the time.
“Stevie is the exception to everything,” I tell her as I wash up in the sink. Once I’m dressed, I open the door and come face to face with Locke, Stevie hovering behind him.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I tell him, but he looks far from happy.
There are still dark circles under his eyes, his expression hard when he looks at Stevie as he floats around. “Good is debatable,” Locke grunts.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Locke scowls. “You try sleeping with the light of the fucking sun in your room. Also, thatsunnever shuts up. I’ve now learned the entire history of his fall from God’s Grace, his relationship with the devil, and how exactly to do his favorite and the most perfect hairstyle.” He pauses. “Apparently, it’s a honey blonde balayage.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” I say, frowning.
