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Jagger smirks, cocking a brow at me. He’s even more handsome in the cool autumn sunlight, if that’s possible. The golden rays hit him, illuminating the stunning features of his face from his full lips to his wide nose to those teal eyes that dance with nothing but pure amusement. His hair is dark and organized in a mess of small braids that make him look just as much playful as intimidating, and that same red guitar isstrapped to his back, shifting as he folds his arms over his chest, a cloak he must’ve pulled out of his pack now shielding him from the cold since I’m still in his vest.
“I say so,” Jagger says, looking me up and down. “But you don’t look like you can handle me right now.”
I purse my lips, the delicate skin cracking from the move. Shit, I can’t even fake-flirt properly. I’m so hungry. Thirsty. Tired. All of it.
“That’s enough, Jagger,” Zev says, patting the horse with a gentle hand that is completely opposite of his tone. He takes two large strides toward me, stopping so close I have to arch my neck to meet his eyes.
I hate him.
He’s so goddessdamn gorgeous, all raw edges and broken golden eyes, the hilt of a long sword strapped to his back peeking over one broad shoulder. His long silver hair blows in the slight breeze, casting his scent all over me—a delicious combination of spiced chocolate and cedar. Goddess, my fangs sting, distending at a much slower rate than normal.
Zev notes the move, something I can’t read churning in his eyes before he glances back at Jagger. They have a silent conversation, and it’s enough to snap the bloodlust from my mind.
“You’re going the wrong way,” I say, my muscles tensing. The urge to move my legs and stretch my arms is overpowering, and even in my weakened condition, Icouldbreak these bonds thanks to them using rope and not silver. Had they chained me up in that, it would weaken me and quite possibly nullify my power, depending on its purity. Which, as drifters, they’re more than likely to have that kind of chain on them. So, if I really wanted to, I could get free, but I’ve decided to use these drifters to my advantage, so I’ll cooperate for now.
“This is the less taken path to Lingate,” Zev says it like he’s explaining something obvious to a youngling.
I bare my fangs at him.
Jagger laughs, patting the horse—a stunning creature with a brown coat and strip of white running down his nose—before taking a swig of water from a flask he retrieved from a saddlebag.
“Will you walk? Or are you going to make Rain carry you?”
I lift my chin, a retort on the tip of my tongue. It’s cut off the second Jagger steps into my space, raising the flask to my lips. I part them immediately, my senses overwhelmed as he tilts the cool water into my mouth.
I drink in greedy mouthfuls before he pulls it away. I lick my lips, and give him a thankful nod. “At least one of you has some manners.”
The water is a goddess-send, but blood would’ve been ten times better.
Zev grunts. “Don’t press your?—”
“I’ll walk,” I cut him off. “Ifyou two will go the right direction.”
Zev shifts his feet into a defensive stance, his massive arms folding over his chest. “We are going the right direction.”
“You’re really not,” I say.
“Fine.” Zev curls his lip, his golden eyes piercing right through me. “You’ll be carried then.” He moves like he’ll haul me over his shoulder, but I manage to hop backward.
“If you don’t want to hand over adeadrelic to the Collector, I’ll need three things, and notoneof them is in Lingate.”
Zev heaves a sigh, moving toward me again, but Jagger puts a hand on his chest, effectively stopping him.
“What things?” Jagger asks.
“Meds, blood, and desire. Not necessarily in that order.”
“You’re on medication?” Zev grumbles the question. “For what?”
“None of your fucking business,” I snap. “I don’t see you sharing intimate details of your life with me, drifter.”
A muscle in his jaw clenches. “I don’t give a shit about your intimate details, succubus. We go to Lingate.”
“Good luck getting paid,” I say, already mapping out the second I’ll have to break these bonds and run. I’m more than willing to use these two as an invitation to the Collector’s palace, but I sure as shit won’t die for it.
Zev growls, turning his head toward the sky like he’ll find patience there. Jagger draws his attention, and they do that silent conversation thing again.
A burst of warmth trickles beneath my forearm, snapping my attention to the sensation. Gold script swirls into words on my skin.
