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she ducked down from his grasp and swung the loose cuff behind his knees as hard as she could. With an inhuman speed she’d never hope to match, he grabbed the cuff, wrapped the chain around his wrist and pulled her towards him, the air escaping from her throat in a whoosh.
she ducked down from his grasp and swung the loose cuff behind his knees as hard as she could. With an inhuman speed she’d never hope to match, he grabbed the cuff, wrapped the chain around his wrist and pulled her towards him, the air escaping from her throat in a whoosh.
“With a pointy stick?” He arched a brow and a smirk tugged at his lips.
“With a pointy stick?” He arched a brow and a smirk tugged at his lips.
Zylah could make out the honey-coloured flecks in his eyes. So this is how it ends. Sucked in by a god’s eyes and handsome face.
Zylah could make out the honey-coloured flecks in his eyes. So this is how it ends. Sucked in by a god’s eyes and handsome face.
“A god?” he asked, huffing out a breath. “I’ve never been called that before.”
“A god?” he asked, huffing out a breath. “I’ve never been called that before.”
“Sorry for elbowing you in the face,” she offered. “No, you’re not.”
She glared up at him. If she stabbed him here in the street, no one would notice, would they?
You talk in your sleep, was all the note said.
“Tsk. Lazy. Some of us have to work, you know, Kopi,” Holt said quietly.
Holt was beside her at once, an expression she’d never seen painted across his face. He was on his knees beside the tub, knuckles white as his hands gripped the edge, the metal groaning beneath his touch.
But what was there to say? Sorry I slept on you?
“Because no one should have to live in fear just because of who they are.”
She’d only known him a short while, but she knew he was good. Kind.
“Who you take to your bed is no concern of mine.” The words were cold, emotionless.
“It isn’t right, you know,” Rose said quietly beside her. “To be with one of them when you want the other.”
When she glanced up again, Holt was right in front of her. “Zylah,” he breathed, as she fell into his arms. “What have they done to you?” Zylah couldn’t speak. All she could do was lean into Holt, breathing in his reassuring scent and willing herself not to fall apart. She felt his hands pass over her back; he was trying to heal her. “Cuffs,” she murmured. Holt held her closer. “How long?” he asked, his breath hot in her hair. “Three days.” “Shit.” He lifted her just as she was, wrapping her legs around his waist so her front pressed against his, careful not to touch her back.
“Hey.” Holt’s voice pulled her from an almost dream. “Remember rule number seven?” “Hmm?” He pressed a thumb against her thigh to get her attention. “Rule number seven. No dying on each other.”
“Stay with you. I hereby leave you my owl that isn’t mine to give. He’s a terrible pet, but an excellent friend.”
“I feel like a curse, not a gift,” she whispered.
“If this is what it feels like to be cursed… curse all of it… my mind, my body, my heart. It’s all yours.”
“Will I ever see you again?” She looked up at him, studying the lines of his face. A tear fell down her cheek and Holt brushed it away, so lightly she barely felt his skin touch hers. “I’ll find you.” His jaw was tightly clenched, as if there was more he wanted to say, but he just held her gaze.
“I’ll find you, Zylah,”
