My head whirled, and I was suddenly in Demos’s arms. His mouth crashed down on mine, and I let out a choked sob, my hands clutching his shirt, pulling him close. Someone called to him, and he pulled away, his gaze still on my face. My body ached at the loss of his warmth. “No stupid risks.” “From you either.” He nodded. His gaze swept over my face. And he tucked a strand of my hair behind one ear. “Into position, Sin.” Demos turned, striding toward our meager front lines. Screams sounded. One of Regner’s soldiers had encountered one of Herne’s traps. Terror punched into me.
This is so tense
