Page 11 of Break Out the Girl

Yeah, a white bird.

It silently slices through the darkness, circling above me once then flying off into the night.

Imran?

My throat goes all hot and tight. I wish I understood what happened to him. He shifted into an owl, which I loved to see, but Immy was dying.

Can he keep living in owl-form? Maybe the magic saved his soul but not his body. But does that mean he’s all-owl, or is Imran in that feathered beast somewhere too?

Crack-snap.

The sound of a breaking branch comes from directly beneath me and I think I can feel a vibration traveling up the thick wood and straight into my spine.

Is something in my tree?

Fuck.

I haven’t even got my shiv, it must have fallen from my pocket during the chaos. I’m scared to look down, but what help is that?

Just do it, Aurora.

A shape breaks through the swirling fog, clambering onto a limb several below me.

“Kitten!” a cheerful voice chirps. “I found your boys!”

My whole body gives a massive gasp of relief; both that he’s back, and he found Tally and François. “Thank fuck! Now get me down.”

“Your wish is my command.” London swings from one branch to another then lands next to me. “Ooh, Kitten, your lips have gone blue.”

“That’s because I’m freezing, London.” As he sidles up beside me, the warmth emitting from his body is ridiculous and wonderful. He pulls me in tight then smashes my face against his chest. It’s actually exactly what I need. It’s broad, hot and has a mat of chestnut curls.

My nose at least begins to thaw.

“So where are the guys?” I ask, voice muffled. He’s blowing hot breath onto the back of my neck and it feels amazing.

“Wolfy is downstairs, but Shane is back in his hidey hole.”

“Rory!” Tally’s voice floats up to me. He’s not shouting, but I can hear the frustration in his tone from just that one word.

Nice though this reheating is, I need to see with my own eyes that Taliesin is OK. “Let’s go, London.”

We make short work of the descent, or rather London does, seeing as he hoists me over his shoulder like a sack of laundry, as he springs from branch to branch with a terrifying confidence that makes my stomach swoop.

The moment my sneakers hit the squelching mud at the root-base, I stumble, but before I can face-plant a pair of warm, calloused hands catch me then pull me close.

Tally.

Just like London, he’s radiating a fierce heat. Or maybe it’s just the contrast of his body next to my frozen one. His amber-gold eyes rake over me, checking for injuries.

I put my hand to his cheek. “I’m OK.”

“Thank fuck.” He just yanks me into a tight, crushing embrace. I wrap my arms around his waist, and try to convey my feelings by squeezing back as hard as I can. Tally pulls back just enough to look down at me.

His face has returned to tense and worried. “We gotta go now, Princess. The hunt isn’t going to stop anytime soon.”

A siren cuts through the trees, emphasizing his point.

“Where’s François?” I ask, looking around the dark clearing.