Page 32 of Hunted (Love and Revenge #5)

Ruya sat cross-legged on the floor near the couch, Queen Cat lounging in her lap while she braided something silver into a length of twine—probably a charm of some sort, since she’d been working with Sanka to learn more about her witch magic.

Her aura brushed mine as I passed—warm, forgiving, steady.

I hated how much I wanted to lean into that comfort, kneel there with her and pull her into my arms so I could drown in the omega and her goodness.

Bleh. What was I becoming?

Robin went to lean against the gleaming hardwood railing of the balcony as if she was just passing a lazy day doing nothing. “It’s done.”

No one spoke.

I took the patch out of my pocket and handed it to Sanka, who nodded grimly and took it without question. He’d make sure it was magically sealed and send it to Acacia. Her request for sick little tokens from our kills was tacky. Very serial killer of her. But I would expect nothing less.

The silence broke as Queen Cat stretched and leapt from Ruya’s lap to come rub up against Robin’s legs, purring like a tiny, demanding engine.

“I feel snubbed,” I muttered to the cat, who completely ignored me to put her paws up on Robin’s legs and demand to be picked up.

“She probably prefers my body heat,” Robin said, as if that was the only reason the cat was so attached to her lately.

I narrowed my eyes at her, but let it slide.

I think we all suspected there was more to it than that.

Ruya’s animal friends always seemed to carry an almost imperceptible hint of Ruya’s.

.. essence with them. This was just another way for her to coddle us all with her omega nonsense.

Ruya stood and approached. Her voice was soft, no judgement in her tone. “Did he put up much of a fight? I don’t sense any injuries...”

“No,” I snapped, sharper than I intended. “It was pathetically easy. We’re fine.”

Ruya’s brows furrowed.

Robin answered before Ruya could say anything. “Acacia probably wanted us to feel like monsters attacking a feeble old man, even if he was dangerous in other ways.”

Ruya touched Robin’s sleeve. “And you did? Feel like monsters?”

Robin was silent for a moment as she stared at Ruya’s face, her jaw clenching and releasing as she fought to keep from snapping out some defensive alpha bullshit about not caring.

“Yes,” I said for her. “We feel like monsters for murdering the poor, weak but evil old vampire. Boo-hoo.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Happy now? Can we get some lunch?”

Ruya didn’t speak. Just nodded once, then turned away.

She knew me too well. Just like Robin. I don’t know why I even bothered to pretend I wasn’t a gross ball of emotional mush. It was just habit, I supposed.

I watched Ruya leave, watched the sway of her hips and the steel in her spine as she descended the stairs toward the lower level and headed to the back of the stage where the elevator would take her to the private areas—and the kitchen.

I didn’t envy her strength. I feared it.

The kind of strength that bends without breaking.

That forgives so easily, without ever forgetting.

It still seemed so foreign to me that someone could be both strong and soft at the same time.

It made me feel ridiculously weak in comparison.

Robin watched her as well, her expression unreadable.

I huffed and pushed myself into motion, following Ruya down the stairs.

I needed to feel something that wasn’t this stupid slurry of guilt and self-loathing.

I needed to eat something—and make sure the other idiots got something edible in them too, since they couldn’t cook to save their lives—but I just wasn’t in the mood.

I found the training room blessedly empty. Lit only by the soft blue glow of the enchantments Sanka had laid into the floor, it felt more like a shrine than a gym. I drew a practice blade— imperfect but still iron-core, fae-sharp—and began moving through my forms.

When I finished, I started over again. And again.

I moved until my arms burned and my breath came short. I moved until the ice in my veins finally thawed into something sickeningly like grief.

Leeds hadn’t fought. Not because he couldn’t.

But because he had looked at me—looked through me—and he saw me for what I was.

A pawn. Acacia’s toy. Just one in a long line of tools the vampire queen would send after him if this one failed.

He’d seen that I was just one faceless assassin and that fighting for his life, killing me, would only delay the inevitable.

Because I was easily replaceable. Just a tool.

I stopped mid-form, breathing hard, and let the blade drop with a clatter.

You’re spiraling, a voice said, directly into my head.

I tensed, then let out a slow breath. Then I turned toward the source of the voice that had spoken inside my mind.

Cicely stood at the threshold, barefoot, loose-limbed, dressed in soft gray sweats and a t-shirt. The infuriating faun always looked like he was either waking up from a satisfying romp and a long nap, or preparing to engage in one.

Most of my life, I’d been taught to view lesser fae like him as just that—lesser. Animals that lived to serve the high fae and were barely worth notice. He’d been taught that too. But he didn’t show it now, with his laid-back ease and the confident set of his broad shoulders.

If I was being honest, I’d come to appreciate the faun.

He was a kind man, and a good beta, and he balanced out the rest of the court.

Plus, he always had Ruya’s back, even when she was butting heads with Robin or the rest of us.

But somewhere deep inside, there was still a part of me that felt shame when I looked at him and found him.

.. stupidly attractive. My high fae roots whispered that enjoying base revelry with a faun was like fucking an animal.

Not that the high fae didn’t indulge in the urge now and then, but it was vulgar to admit.

I wiped sweat from my forehead with my arm, hoping my idiotic thoughts didn’t show on my face. “What do you want?”

“To help.” The sign was lazy and unhurried, but sincere.

“I don’t need your comfort and patronizing,” I bit out, rotating my wrist to work the tension out of my sword arm.

I didn’t say anything about comforting you, icicle. I said I came to help. He spoke in my mind again, something he’d rarely ever attempted with me.

Cicely stepped closer, his expression soft, eyes full of gentleness. I felt the shift in the room’s pressure—a subtle warmth sliding over my shoulders. Empathic magic. Soft, skilled, unobtrusive, nearly undetectable if you weren’t watching for it.

“Don’t,” I snapped.

Cicely stilled, his leaf-green eyes watching me with a weird mix of pity and curiosity. I hated that look. Hated that I probably warranted it.

“I don’t want you in my head,” I said evenly, trying not to snap this time. Trying to avoid the outward display of emotion that gave me away.

“I thought it might be easier for you if you didn’t have to speak,” Cicely signed.

I exhaled sharply. “What might be easier? I told you not to do this shit, faun.”

“You pretend you feel anything, so no one will look too close,” he signed. “But deep down, I think you just want someone to ask if you’re okay.”

That stung.

Cicely moved to the edge of the mat, knelt slowly, and waited. As if he were nothing more than a lowly lesser fae awaiting orders from a high fae lord.

I stared at him, then grunted and tossed my blade aside and went to sit across from him. Fine. If it would get him to just leave me the fuck alone, then fine. I’d talk about my feelings .

“He didn’t fight,” I said, voice low.

“ I heard.”

“He didn’t scream. Or run. Or curse me. He just... waited. Robin was blocking the exit, but she didn’t even need to be there.”

Cicely nodded.

“He said my name. Once. Like he knew me from before. Probably recognized me as O’Dell’s pet assassin, since he was so old—he was definitely around back then. But whatever the reason... it was like he’d already resigned herself to his fate and forgiven me for it.”

“And?”

“I hated him for it,” Yukio whispered. “For not making it easier. For not attacking me first. For not reminding me how evil he was or how I was doing the world a favor regardless of what Acacia wanted.”

Cicely’s eyes shone faintly, but he didn’t speak.

I looked down at my hands. “Acacia’s going to keep doing this,” I muttered. “And Robin’s going to keep saying yes. And we’re all going to keep pretending we’re better than the people we kill.”

Cicely reached out, placed a hand over mine, warm and steady, squeezing briefly before it lifting to sign. “Then stop pretending. Start choosing.”

I looked up, confused.

“There’s a difference between surviving and surrendering,” he said, his expression full of understanding.

“I think you know that as well as I do. You are choosing to do this because it will help keep Josh and the rest of us safe. You’re not a mindless tool.

Unlike when you were with O’Dell, there is choice in this.

Robin listens to your opinions. She might order you around, but in the end, you can say no.

That’s what makes it different than when you belonged to the fae. ”

He had also been one of O’Dell’s tools—and even less voluntarily than I had.

O’Dell had used Cicely’s abilities to spy for him, to pry into the minds and hearts of others.

He probably did know a thing or two about the mental gymnastics needed to keep yourself sane by justifying your actions in some way, by grasping at any opportunity to feel like you had some sort of control.

I blinked hard to quell the stupid tears that wanted to well up, then waved a hand at him. “Okay, enough. Go away.”

His chiseled lips quirked upward with suppressed laughter as he signed. “When you stop being so hard on yourself, I will.”

But he finally took pity on me and stood. “You’re not a monster, Yukio. And you’re not weak for having feelings. You’re scared you’ll become that old you—a version of yourself that was trapped and wounded. That’s hard. And very understandable.”

I didn’t answer. Damn him. I wasn’t scared. Much.

The silence stretched, soft but charged with unsaid things.

When Cicely finally left the room, the shards of ice in my chest had retreated. Just slightly. Enough for me to promise myself that I wasn’t the unseen, emotionless puppet O’Dell had made me. This time there was purpose to my actions. Greater good, ends justifies the means, and all that crap.

“Damn it all!” I muttered, running my hands over my face and through my hair. Things were so much easier when I wasn’t allowed to feel things or show emotion.

And damn the faun for being so... so... Damn it! I didn’t get involved with people lightly. But right now I couldn’t tell if I wanted to punch the man or kiss him senseless. And wasn’t that just great ? I couldn’t even trust my own icy heart to behave the way it should.

This was all Ruya’s fault. Disrupting our court.

Dragging in strays off the street. Changing us all in some fundamental way.

Sighing, I got up to put my sword away and headed toward the kitchen so I could berate the omega for the curse she had inflicted upon us all.

.. or reward her with her favorite dessert, because who was I kidding here?