Page 37

Hunter’s hand was warm against my lower back as we walked into the motel. It was a rundown place with dim lighting and a musky smell that made me want to wrinkle my nose in disgust, but I managed to keep my expression neutral. Hunter stepped up to the counter with me in tow as he requested a room.

We weren’t staying the night, but like Hunter said, we needed a place to rest for a bit and get our bearing.

The receptionist barely glanced at us. She was too focused on a small TV playing above the counter. “Name and card?”

Hunter handed the receptionist everything she needed. When she finally looked away from the TV, she stared at us for a minute too long while chewing her gum loudly.

“Single or double?”

“Excuse me?” I spoke.

She rolled her eyes. “Single bed or a double.”

Oh.

As I was about to say single, Hunter spoke up and said double.

I blinked, looking up at him, but he hadn’t even glanced my way.

The receptionist blew out a huff before handing us a key. Hunter then guided me down the hallway, his hand lingering a bit longer than necessary as if playing the devoted partner. It oddly felt natural, which only made the nerves in my stomach flicker.

The illusion of whatever Hunter was faking with me inside our motel room dissolved as he clicked the door shut and immediately got to work. I watched, half-amused, as he pulled two different Celestial daggers from beneath his jacket, followed by a Nightsteel I hadn’t noticed was in his pocket.

“Are you always this well-armed?”

“Precaution,” he said, setting the weapons on the nightstand. I was disappointed by his lack of a sarcastic response. Instead, his face was calm, but the way his jaw tightened told me otherwise.

I watched him closely; how his movements around the room were focused but tense. It reminded me of our first encounter, the darkness that lurked behind those grey eyes. “Why did you ask for a double bed?” I asked quietly.

He paused by the bed, his fingers trailing the thin covers. “You never know what a place like this could be hiding. I thought it would be best if they saw us acting like a... regular couple.”

Right. Regular couple.

I found myself feeling cold again. “And, um, so, last time... was it a Riftkeeper who attacked you then? Was it this exact town too?”

He seemed to know what he was doing, so my assumption led to that but as Hunter’s face shifted and a brief flash of something unreadable passed him, I began to think I was wrong. “That’s not important right now.”

“Not important? If we’re going to get anywhere close to finding your brother, I think I deserve to know what we’re dealing with, don’t you? Like, where were you the last time you were attacked? Was it near here? Was it close to the academy like we overheard Nadael and Joe say or—”

“Just leave it, Grace.”

Frustration bubbled up my throat. “Well, you’re not exactly giving me a reason to trust you right now, Cain .”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair; gone were the snippets of jokes and teases with him. “I don’t owe you every answer.”

Silence swept over us, and I huffed as he turned away, grabbing a towel from the bathroom cabinet.

“I’ll be back in a few,” he muttered, stepping into the bathroom.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, I felt a surge of resolve. If he wasn’t going to share information, I’d find it myself then.

I slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind me as quietly as I could, then made my way down the hall, retracing our steps to the lobby.

A few leaflets and a wall full of news posts were by the entrance. I went over and looked for anything that might seem out of the ordinary, but there was nothing except a few posters about a Christmas football event and a grandma who’d won the national lottery.

I sighed, turning toward the front desk, when I spotted the same man who’d been at the park sitting at the bar, deep in conversation with another guy.

I stilled, unsure whether to bolt out of there and find Hunter or do something stupid and brave on my own.

Naturally, I went with the stupid and brave option.

Inhaling slowly, I forced my legs to move and slid into a stool a few seats down from him, my fingers drumming an erratic rhythm against the bar top.

I kept my head low, pretending to scan the menu like I wasn’t internally freaking out.

When the bartender asked for ID, I panicked and muttered, “Just a coke,” like that made me sound casual and not like a fraud about to blow her own cover.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the two men. The second one scribbled something on a notepad, then tore the page cleanly and slid it toward the guy from the park.

My pulse kicked up a notch. They shook hands—too formal, too intentional—and stood to leave. As they passed by, I turned my face away, pretending to study the dusty drink menu like it held the meaning of life. Only when their footsteps faded did I slide off the stool and dart across the bar.

“Do you have a pencil?” I asked the bartender.

He blinked at me.

“I just need to jot something down,” I added, throwing in a sheepish smile for good measure.

After a beat, he handed one over. I snatched it and flipped to the notepad the guy had written on, dragging the pencil sideways across the next blank sheet, shading fast.

“Come on, come on—yes!” I whispered in triumph, though I immediately winced and glanced up at the bartender. He stared at me like I might be mildly unhinged.

But I didn’t care. A faint address had appeared through the graphite, and I scribbled it down quickly.

I had just turned to leave when I slammed directly into a solid chest. H unter’s solid chest, to be precise.

My eyes widened.

He looked pissed as his eyes scanned my face. “What the hell were you thinking?” he hissed, gripping my arm as he pulled me a few steps away from the bar and out of earshot.

“I was following a lead,” I said, trying to shake off his grip, but he held onto me firmly. “Why do you never take me seriously when I say I can help?”

Hunter scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry, queen of questionable life choices.” He then shook his head. “I thought something had happened. Do you have any idea—” He stopped himself, breathing hard as if trying to regain control.

It was strange to see him this worried about me, and I contemplated whether to dig further and ask if it was because he cared or because I would be a liability if something happened to me. In ways, I was afraid to find out, but I also wanted to know.

My mind had been full of contradictions lately.

“Well.” I cleared my throat. “I’m okay, see? Not a scratch.” I waved a hand over myself. “And guess what? I got something that might help.”

His anger faltered, as his gaze dropped to the note in my hand. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, this time more resigned as his grip on my arm relaxed and his thumb brushed against my skin absentmindedly.

“Yeah? Well, maybe if you didn’t keep so many secrets, I wouldn’t have to be.”

He was still glaring at me, but it lacked the intensity from a moment ago as he took the note from me. “Secrets are safer than the truth, Grace.”

I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant by that. “Safe for who, exactly?”

He didn’t answer as his gaze drifted to the address I’d scribbled on the paper.

His jaw was set, and I could see him wrestling with his thoughts before he pocketed the note and looked back at me.

“If you ever pull something like that again...” he started, his voice low, but he didn’t finish. Instead, he just shook his head.

“I knew what I was doing.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s the problem.”

Our eyes locked, and the air between us grew heady with something far heavier than anger or frustration.

It was the same pull I’d felt before, that confused mixture of defiance and attraction that seemed to appear every time we were close like this.

It made my body weak—made my heart beat a little faster that it would force me to panic, and from the way Hunter’s fingers tightened slightly on my arm, I could tell he felt it, too.

Before either of us could say anything more, the bartender cleared his throat, casting us a wary look. I was the first to pull away, feeling suddenly exposed.

“We should go,” Hunter said, his voice rough. “I have a map in the car we can use.”

He turned toward the door, but as he did, his hand hovered at my back, guiding me forward like he couldn’t quite bring himself to break contact.

Outside, the rain had started again, falling softly as we made our way down the street.

The motel sign flickered above us, and we passed it as we headed toward the car.

I glanced over at Hunter, who was already staring at me.

He never stopped, even as we got into the car and closed the doors.

“So, what now?” I said, breaking the silence.

His expression was unreadable, like a brick wall I couldn’t knock down. “We go, we observe, and we don’t get caught. That simple enough for you?”

That wasn’t all, though; I knew it wasn’t.

He sighed like he knew I was waiting for the extra but.

It didn’t come. Instead, he reached into his pocket and fished out one of the weapons he’d brought with him. It was a slender blade, this one, with black leather wrapped around its handle and charred in places.

“This... is a Seraph blade,” Hunter said. “It’s a weapon that only Ascendants and Celestials can hold without getting burnt. See, it doesn’t cut like a normal blade. It sears through flesh, marking the skin and drawing both heat and life from the person.”

I didn’t like where this was going. At all.

My pulse hammered against my neck as I stared at the weapon and then up at Hunter’s face. “You’re going to carve the Riftkeeper mark onto our skins, aren’t you?”

His jaw worked back and forth as if he were reconsidering this whole night—this whole plan even. He was ready to back out, I could see. He would rather send me back and do this alone.

I looked away from him, closed my eyes and started regretting my life choices before I shimmied out of my jacket and raised my sleeve to my elbow.

“Just... make it quick, please.” I braced myself for the sting of the blade, but when nothing happened, I peeked up at Hunter.

He was staring at me so fiercely—like he was seeing me for the first time, completely captivated.

Before I could catch my breath, his arm slipped around my waist, and in one smooth motion, he lifted me onto his lap, so close that my knees rested on either side of him.

As I was about to ask him what he was doing, his attention shifted to his arm. He started cutting into the flesh of his skin, carving the Riftkeeper’s mark of arrows and a circle of thorns as if he’d remembered it off by heart. There was no ounce of pain on his face, and I swallowed nervously.

“Very artistic.” It was hardly a whisper of a joke to try and calm myself.

He looked up at me once he was finished, his stormy grey eyes searing into mine. “Put your mouth against my shoulder.”

“What?”

“Just trust me.”

I wish I didn’t.

Instead, I found myself nodding as he guided my head towards his shoulder.

His skin was warm even through his shirt, but I barely had time to take a breath before he apologized, and the blade tip touched my arm.

The burn seared through me like a white-hot flame, stealing the air from my lungs as the pain erupted along my arm.

I started to pull back, but Hunter’s grip tightened on my waist, keeping me steady.

“Bite down, Grace,” he said, but I could hardly function straight. “It’ll help.”

Desperate to muffle the scream building in my throat, I sank my teeth into his shoulder, clamping down as the burn intensified and tears were pushed to the edges of my vision.

I could feel him tense beneath me, his body going rigid, but he didn’t waver as his hand guided the blade path over my skin.

I clung to him, teeth pressed into his shoulder, trying to find something to ground myself as the pain became sharper. He was breathing against me, low and ragged, his own body straining beneath my movements.

“Almost done,” he murmured, his voice a whisper against my ear.

I bit down harder, fighting to stay silent as he completed the last part of the mark. Then, finally, the blade pulled away, and the burn faded to a throbbing heat.

I leaned back, gasping for breath, and met his gaze. I felt hot and cold and weak at that moment. My head was spinning, and I was sure if Hunter wasn’t holding onto me, I’d have passed out from the sheer pain. Yet somehow, being on top of him, knowing I had control of where I was, grounded me.

Hunter didn’t look away. His eyes searched mine, lingering for a second on my lips. I could feel the warmth of his breath, see the way his jaw tensed and released, and for a moment, we just stayed there.

“You’re tougher than I thought.”

I managed a shaky laugh despite the ache in my arm. “Not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

His mouth twitched in response, but his gaze didn’t soften. “Take it how you want,” he replied, voice quiet.

He reached out, brushing a stray tear from my cheek I hadn’t even noticed had fallen. His thumb lingered there on my skin just a second longer than necessary, making me forget about the pain, forget the reason we were here, just for one moment.

I pulled my gaze away from his, glancing down at the fresh mark on my arm. The lines of the Riftkeeper brand burned faintly.

“Now you know what it feels like,” Hunter said in the most vulnerable voice I’d ever heard. I didn’t understand what he meant by that. Was it that I now knew the pain of the Seraph blade? Or that it was as if that brand made me feel different.

He shifted, his hand slipping from my waist, and I felt a strange pang of loss. I pulled myself back, realizing the closeness had left me breathless. “We should get going.” His voice was hoarse.

I nodded, sliding off his lap and onto my seat, feeling the heat of his gaze on me even as I moved away.

“Once we’re back at the dorm, we’ll get Marnie to heal them.” He glanced at both our marks, and I nodded again, this time quite numbly.