Wait, what?
I flick my gaze to the right and then the left, but…nope. There’s no one standing directly behind me or beside me.
“Um…you talking to me?” I ask, expecting him to ignore the question entirely.
They always do.
“Who the fuck else would I be talking to?” The shifter takes another step closer, and the tip of his sword slices at my skin.
Holy shit, that hurt.
That hurt.
I can feel pain—and not the usual agony I experience daily reaping souls, where it feels as if all of my internal organs are being rearranged and then stomped on. No, this is different.
I canfeel.
The sword against my neck. The grass under my bare feet. The wind battering my cheeks.
Then I do probably the most idiotic thing imaginable.
I begin to laugh.
CHAPTER SIX
KRYSTIAN
The first thing I notice is that the girl is beautiful. Otherworldly so.
Her face is small, almost delicate, though her lips are full and pouty. Kissable. Bitable.
Wavy, golden hair cascades around her shoulders like moonlight and sunlight woven together. Blue eyes, framed by thick lashes, peer back at me, wide and guileless and full of disbelief.
She wears, of all things, a dress. A goddamn ball gown. The bodice clings to her ample breasts, the fabric adorned with hundreds upon hundreds of tiny, intricate jewels. The skirt is short in the front, revealing the full extent of her tan legs, and long in the back. It extends behind her like a gossamer train.
One second, the area she now stands in was empty. The next, she appeared, seemingly out of thin air, with a dagger in her hand.
A dagger she used to save my brother.
Who the fuck is she?
Why is she following us?
Did she have something to do with the hellhounds and their attacks?
“Who. Are. You?” Everett repeats, digging the sword into her skin hard enough to draw blood.
I wince instinctively, despite knowing she’s a threat. It’s hard for me to see a woman in pain. Call me old-fashioned.
I may be a womanizer, but I’m arespectfulwomanizer.
The crazy chick begins to laugh, tears streaming down her cheeks as she holds her stomach.
“Oh my god. What is happening?” she breathes out through peals of laughter.
She seems entirely unconcerned that Everett has a sword at her throat and Zaid has snuck up behind her.
Rafe and I stand slightly apart, though I haven’t lowered my bow yet. She’s hot as sin, but they’re usually the most dangerous. Certainly the craziest.
