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“They’ve fucking found us,” he panted.

68

Angelthene Rec Center

ANGELTHENE, STATE OF WITHEREDGE

Loren stoodwith Darien by the front entrance of Angelthene Recreation Center. His muscled arms were wrapped protectively around her from behind, his solid body sheltering her from the night’s chill. It was nearly spring, but evenings in Angelthene were still cool enough to need a light jacket—and, in this case, a Darkslayer’s arms.

Letting Darien get close to her was something she was having a hard time resisting. Her heart was begging her to thank him for the flowers, the strawberries, the card.Especiallythe card. But…

But she was still upset. About his bargain. About his decision to part with more years than necessary when bringing Singer back. There was so much going on, so much at stake, and while she vowed to do everything she could to fix what Darien had done… Give him back the years he had not needed to trade, if such a thing were evenpossible…

She had to stay alive in the meantime. And she supposed letting the Devil keep her warm wouldn’t hurt. Darien was using every excuse he could think of to get close to her, whether it was to check on her tattoos, use his body to shield her from potential threats, or keep her warm, it didn’t matter. He seizedany opportunity the moment it came up. She was just as guilty, though, because she never refused him.

They were hooked on each other like bees to honey.

Sabrine, Logan, and Tanner were here with them. The latter was in the process of lowering the spells, his face suffused with the cool blue glow of his tablet screen. Back at Hell’s Gate, the others were packing their things and preparing for a temporary stay at the other residence that belonged to the Seven Devils. Loren didn’t like the idea of being run out of her home, especially so soon. But it was safer this way. Donovan was on the hunt for Paxton, and if he came to Hell’s Gate… Well, it was simply better—safer—if none of them were there when he and his Shadowmasters showed up.

Despite the monsters prowling along the perimeter of the parking lot, their silhouettes restlessly darting about in search of a way in, Loren felt perfectly safe with Darien standing behind her.

It was past Witching Hour. Now was the time when Angelthene’s people slept in the safety of spell-protected buildings while its monsters came out to hunt. The glare of the flood lights standing sentry around the sprawling recreation center was the only thing holding those bloodthirsty beasts at bay.

When the spells came down, the abrupt absence of magic was so strong, Loren’s whole body reacted to it. Her blood purled in her veins, chills cascading from the crown of her head to the balls of her feet.

She swallowed the nausea eddying in her gut. Drew a deep, steadying breath.

She could do this. She had to stay conscious, had to get healthy. Not just for herself but for Darien, too. It was the two of them now.

Literally.

The slayer’s strong arms tightened around her, tugging her harder against his chest. Keeping her warm. She clung to his sleeves like she had back in Yveswich, fingers grasping the worn leather. Their bodies were so flush, she could feel the smooth rise and fall of his breathing against her back, and when he bent down just far enough to rest his cheek on the top of her head, she all but melted.

“Almost there, I promise,” Tanner said, still clicking.

“Take your time,” Darien murmured, the words vibrating through her. Loren felt his nose skim her hair. Heard him inhale.

“One, two, and…” Tanner looked up from his tablet and glanced at the doors with quiet expectance.

Sure enough, the locks clicked open with asnap.

The corners of Tanner’s lips tipped up. “Three.”

Logan pushed the door open. “Impressive,” the alpha said, his throaty voice echoing. He held the door, and everyone filed in.

Darien let go of Loren, but stayed close behind as they made their way through the dark building. The place smelled strongly of chloramines and sweat. Compared to the joyful shouting, laughter, and splashing that went on during the day, the silence, while peaceful, felt…eerie. Moonlight trickled through the big windows lining the outer walls, the calm surface of the water in the pools catching its ethereal glow.

“I’ll wait right out here,” Darien announced when they reached the dressing room, his rich, bass voice booming through the cavernous space. “Call my name if you need anything, and I’ll be there before you can blink.”

She gave him a nod before following Sabrine to a bench in the dressing room, where the werewolf dug around in the beach bag they were sharing and passed her a fluffy white towel and a two-piece swimsuit the shade of a robin’s egg. It was Loren’s favorite.Sabrine had borrowed one of Ivy’s—a simple black two-piece—for tonight’s swim.

Earlier that evening, while Darien made a few phone calls on the back deck at Hell’s Gate, Loren had seized the opportunity to open up to Sabrine about the one thing that was bothering her the most.

Darien’s bargain. His—and Loren’s—impending deaths. The news had hit Sabrine hard, but the shattered look on Loren’s face, and the way her voice broke when she told her, had given her strength. Sabrine had pledged that everything would work out—someway, somehow. Instead of questioning her or dissolving into tears, Loren had opted to stay strong and accept her words for what they were: a comforting lie.

“You’re quiet,” Sabrine remarked as she tied the strings of her bikini top into a bow. It was so dark in here, Loren could scarcely see her face. If her medical tattoos were good for anything, it was the light they gave off, the rhythmic flashes of vermilion allowing her to see well enough to get her own swimsuit on without falling over or banging her legs against the bench. “Is it getting worse?”

Loren tightened the straps of her top. “I think if it gets any worse, my heart will stop,” she admitted. Darien had asked her if she wanted to use one of the syringes, but she’d declined. Those were best saved for a true emergency.