Page 25 of They Call Me Blue

“A good teammate trusts their friends, a good leader trusts their instincts, and a good Karesai trusts nothing.”

—Talin of Kariss, Lead Hunter of the Nines

Status: Deceased

I crack my knuckles, then my neck before taking off into a sprint. My bloody shirt lies discarded on the running track—not a soul in sight. I leap over it, sweat drenching my body, wetting the dried blood that still clings to my skin. When I wipe my forehead, my palm comes back purple.

Another lap. A fourth, then fifth.

My lungs heave for breath, but I keep going. There’s a knot in my chest that I can’t quite loosen, and it’s not caused by guilt or remorse for Conrin’s shitty father, but by her. Stars shine above me, but when I stare at them, I don’t see anything but the cold inside of a familiar yet foreign cave.

I’m in Arden’s thoughts again, and I can’t shake out of them. I’m not sure I want to.

The hazy face of a male elf blinks into and out of focus.

A brother? A lover? She’d be old enough by now.

I crack my knuckles again and run faster.

The elf wraps his arm around her in an awkward half-hug that she doesn’t pull away from.

It makes me grind my teeth, but I’m not sure why.

Fuck if I care what the creature does. She should have her fun before I escape my father’s sentries and eat her.

So should I.

I reach for the connection between us and mentally tug, trying to sever it for the dozenth time in the past hour.

This time, the images go black. Sighing in relief, I lurch to a stop, snatch my crusty shirt off the ground, and use it to wipe the hot sweat from my face.

My sore muscles ache in all the best ways.

I’ve spent hours on the workout field—lifting weights, flinging knives at straw targets, taking out my pent-up irritation with Azerin on everything in sight.

The only thing that hasn’t been exercised and satiated is my cock—which Sarvenna will be more than happy to take care of.

Whistling, I make my way back to our shared accommodations.

The workout field lies in the center of Hunter’s Square —a large compound reserved for active hunting squads, with tenement bedrooms that can house teams of six.

Technically, I’m not eligible to sleep here anymore, but Sarvenna and the rest of the squad makes room for me.

Long, external staircases lead up the sides of the building onto separate landings for each residency. I climb the stairs to mine, the shoddy metal groaning and shaking with each step. Seven flights later, I reach my apartment. Outside the door is a government-mandated posting of who dwells within.

Sarvenna of Kariss.

Eleesy of Olsenna.

Pel of Nordi.

Conrin of Kariss—Acting Squad Leader.

Beside their names are tally marks, tracking each capture and kill.

None of them have less than fifty, but all have less than I do, were I on the list. It’s two names shy of a full hunting party.

We lost our combat medic last year, and they never replaced me on the team—still waiting for the day Azerin releases me from my obligations.

I sift through the key ring attached to my belt loop and let myself in, mentally bracing for whatever drama Conrin’s about to start.

If the Gambling Block is chaos, Hunter’s Square is order. No drinking. No smoking. And noise ordinances are in effect from sundown to sunup. The laughter I hear inside jolts me back, bright lantern light pouring from the living room onto the landing.

“Shut the door, Lye,” Eleesy whines. “You’re going to get us caught.”

I oblige her.

Stepping past the threshold, I roll my eyes when I see the barrel of ya’esen in the center of our living room.

Conrin is gone. Everyone else sits on threadbare couches around stacked wooden crates that serve as drink tables.

Discarded weapons and armor clutter the bamboo floor, turning the terrain into a hazardous obstacle course.

It’s always messy like this. Besides me, no one stays here long enough to warrant turning this house into a home.

Angling for my bedroom, I maneuver around a leather cuirass, my wadded, bloody shirt in hand. Now that the adrenaline’s worn off, the last thing I want to do is party with them. Shower. Fuck. Sleep. In that order. Like a good girl, Sarvenna’s already rising from her seat, close on my heels.

“Shit, Lyrick, what happened to you?” Pel asks from the couch. He’s the youngest on the team and loyal to Conrin, who recruited him. With close-cropped hair and uniformly gray skin, the two are almost identical.

I grunt a response. I’m not interested in discussing this with the squad or listening to them bitch about how shitty of a friend I am. I’m the only one with the balls to do what needs to be done, which is why they appointed me leader in the first place.

“It’s not my blood,” I offer when Sarvenna starts inspecting me for injuries. “Azerin had me on collections.”

In my periphery, Eleesy perks up. Her lilac eyes glimmer with excitement. “What’d you take? Eyes? Ears?”

“Neither. Skinned his back.”

And then I’m gone.

Refusing to elaborate, I shove into my bedroom, discarding knives and other weaponry onto the floor, metal clanging as they hit.

I peel stiff leather breeches down my hips, wincing when Morcai’s dried blood pulls on my stitchwork.

Sarvenna leans against the doorpost, arms crossed, enjoying the show. “Rough night?” she asks.

“An annoying one.” Images of that male elf hugging Arden blink into existence. He’s familiar somehow, but I can’t place it. “I’m not in the mood to talk.”

“Who said anything about talking?”

She sashays up to me and curls her fingers in my blood-soaked, sweat-soaked hair, pressing her warm body flush against mine.

Now that we’re alone, I notice what Sarvenna’s wearing, or rather what she isn’t .

Dark nipples tent her thin white undershirt.

Matching panties made of sheer lace show off every inch of her smooth, mottled-gray skin.

She grinds against me like a verncat in heat, but for once my cock refuses to cooperate.

“I need a shower,” I say, brushing her off. “Go have fun with the others. I’ll find you after.”

Sarvenna pouts—an annoyingly desperate expression that doesn’t suit her at all. “We’re playing Secret Box, ” she says. “You should join us when you’re finished. Winner gets to pick tomorrow’s training exercises.”

I give a noncommittal answer and step into the adjoining shower room, shooing her away.

Thank gods she doesn’t follow.

Of all the things I enjoy about being a Hunter, our bathing options aren’t one of them.

Most grays live in luxury, but we’re efficient.

The shower is small—barely large enough to accommodate me, let alone two elgrew—and boxed in by a metal cage.

A lever with neither hot nor cold settings turns the spout on, which sprays a single stream of low-pressure water onto a grated floor.

Closing my eyes, I step into what should be room-temperature water. I feel delicious warmth instead. Steam thickens the air, loosening the tension in my muscles, and I groan in agonized relief. When I open my eyes again, the bathing chamber is foggy, roomy, and made of stone.

I half expect my body to be blue as I glance down, but it’s still me. Sort of. My palm flashes gray, then blue, then gray again—the skin throbbing where I bit her.

“Who is he?” I ask. I don’t expect an answer. We can’t communicate like that, and even if we could, doing so would be idiotic. Besides simple commands, elgrew are forbidden from speaking to our pets and food.

“Lyrick?” Arden’s voice sounds as confused as I feel.

But I’m still thinking about his damned face. Still lost in trying to figure out who the man was that I can’t bring myself to think about the repercussions of what I’m doing. “Who were you speaking with earlier?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps at me.

“Everything you do is my business. I own you.”

The rage that fills her is visceral. She grits her teeth— we grit our teeth—and the connection goes black again, my washing room reverting to its normal, claustrophobic size. Sighing, I rinse the rest of the blood clean and towel off.

It isn’t until I’m dressed that I realize something even more troubling than my ability to speak to her. We weren’t talking in Elvish, but in Elgrew.

A blindfold obscures my surroundings. Feminine voices snicker as I sit up straight, taking in the faint floral scent of whatever lies in front of me. Pel is passed out somewhere on one of the couches—an early loser in this bullshit game.

“Shush.” I hold my hand up to silence Eleesy and Sarvenna, then whiff again, deeper this time. Slower. Floral and bitter with a faintly sour back kick. A grin spreads across my face. Too easy. “It’s acathia flowers. Just the roots.”

The box in front of me snaps shut, the lid clicking tightly into place.

“Damn, he’s good,” Eleesy says. “Are you sure he isn’t cheating?”

Bamboo floorboards creak as Sarvenna crosses the living room and checks the tightness of my blindfold for the seventh time tonight, ensuring no light peeks through. Her cool fingers send goosebumps down my arms and back.

Great, now my cock decides to work.

“Maybe the fabric is more transparent than it looks,” Sarvenna suggests.

“I’m happy to trade places with you,” I tell her. “Or I can give you a demonstration in my bedroom. Whichever you prefer.”

I can practically feel her rolling her eyes at me.

Another box creaks open. The resulting smell is so potent and familiar that I call it out on instinct. “Korkuran feathers from the Lycean Marsh.”

“How the fuck could you possibly know that?” Eleesy sighs in frustration and slams the lid shut. “Did you go through my stuff?”

No, I watched Arden hunt there earlier this week.

I snort. “Don’t be jealous, Leesy. Not everyone can be as talented as I am.”