“What’s being inside an infernus like?” Tori asked.

“I’m not sure, but the gist of it seems to be ‘boring.’” Pushing open the door, I led the way into a dusty hall. “Are you ready for tonight?”

It took me a second to realize my question had stopped Tori dead in her tracks.

“I’m terrified,” she admitted quietly. “I’m terrified to lose him. It feels like we’re ushering him to his own execution.”

“You aren’t ushering him,” I told her. “He decided this himself, didn’t he? There’s a big difference between being forced to do something and choosing your own path.”

Why did you protect me all this time?

Because I promised.

I shivered at the memory of Zylas’s husky answer. His promise. His choice.

“Choosing … means something,” I whispered.

Zylas had chosen to protect me. He’d chosen me. And I still didn’t understand why.

Tori waved her hand in front of my face. “You all right there?”

I jolted. “Y-yes. Sorry. Just … just remembered something, that’s all.

“So, do you wanna call for him, or what?”

“Hm? Oh, he already knows I’m looking for him.” I resumed walking. “He’s got some reason for not coming to find me. Let’s check the second floor.”

Blips of Zylas’s thoughts leaked into my head, and I knew he was somewhere above me. We returned to the stairwell, and I led the way to the upper level. The museum displays continued, the old offices converted to a new purpose. If I hadn’t been intent on locating Zylas, I might’ve been tempted to snoop around.

When Tori and I turned into a corridor lined with windows, I knew we were in the right spot—because a flash of Zylas’s annoyance hit me.

The shadow atop a tall cabinet came to life and the demon sprang off it.

I had one second to realize what he was doing, then he landed on me. His weight shoved me down, but he grabbed the back of my jacket and pulled me up just before my face hit the floor. A yelp told me Tori hadn’t escaped his pounce either.

“Zh’ūltis.” His growl was quiet, almost a whisper. “Walking into the sight of hunters? I taught you to be smarter, vayanin.”

I scowled at the carpet in front of my nose. “Zylas, get off me. And what hunters?”

Crouched above me, he stretched his head up to peer over the windowsill to the street beyond. “They are watching.”

“Someone is spying on us?” Tori demanded, pushing up on her elbows. “Who?”

Zylas shoved her back into the floor. “Humans. Three. They try to hide among the others, but they stay in one spot and watch, watch, watch. Hunting. Planning. They will ambush us.”

Were they cultists, sent by Xever to watch us? The mages had checked every night for signs of trouble. Had they missed these men?

Moving cautiously, Tori peeked out the window. I would’ve looked too, but Zylas had a foot on either side of me and a solid grip on my jacket. If I tried to get up, he’d probably sit on me.

“What are we going to do?” Tori whispered, ducking back down. “Finding a new location and starting again now, when we’re so close …”

Zylas, I silently warned, then scooted out from under him. He allowed it, his crimson stare flashing down to me before returning to the window.

“You haven’t seen anyone watching us before this, have you?” I asked him, crouching beside Tori with my head below the sill.

“No. They came today only.”

I could sense his certainty. This telepathic connection was actually kind of handy.

Straightening my glasses, I turned to Tori. “The ritual is ready. It’ll all be over tonight. We should stick to the plan, and if they’re here when we return at midnight—”

“—I will hunt them.”

At Zylas’s growling promise, I suppressed a shiver, hoping those men didn’t return. They had no idea what waited for them if they did.

Chapter Ten

The wintry night air nipped at my cheeks as I lay on my stomach on the museum rooftop. Zylas lay beside me, unbothered by the cold even though half his skin was bared to the frigid wind. I discreetly inspected his upper arm, slightly unnerved by the smooth texture. Demons didn’t get gooseflesh.

No goosebumps, no visible pores, no sweat. Amalia’s reminder that his body was part magic lurked in my thoughts.

“Anything?” I whispered.

He poked his head above the concrete lip at the edge of the rooftop, eyes slitted to reduce their telltale red glimmer. He scanned the street below, then ducked down again. “I can’t see anyone.”

I let out a relieved sigh. “We’re good to go, then.”

“You will call me when Eterran is free?”

“I’ll keep you updated the whole time.” I smiled wanly. “Just listen for my thoughts.”

“I am always listening.”

My gaze darted nervously toward him, but he was peeking over the roof’s edge again. Always listening. Did that mean he’d heard my uncomfortable conversation with Amalia—and the disquieting thoughts that had followed? He hadn’t mentioned it, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been mulling it over for the past week.

Busy worrying, I forgot where I was and pushed up onto my hands and knees.

With a sharp hiss, Zylas lunged for me. My back hit the concrete as he pinned me down. He shot a quick look at the street, then glared at me.

“Not seeing a hunter does not mean the hunter isn’t there,” he berated in a rough whisper.

My mouth opened but my voice had vanished.

He scowled at me, our faces inches apart. “You need more lessons on being smart prey.”

“Sorry,” I breathed. “I forgot.”

Quiet stretched between us. Somewhere in the distance, police sirens wailed.

“You are blushing,” he observed.

Yes. Yes, I was. Because he was lying on top of me, his weight pressing down on my body in a way that felt … good. Way too good. Even with cold concrete under me and the bulk of my jacket between us, I could feel his firm strength.

And his face—so close. And his eyes—softly glowing, the vibrant red broken by dark, dilated pupils.

“You can get off me,” I said hastily. “I won’t stand up this time.”

His expression grew distinctly calculating.

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t make me use the infernus.”

His muscles tensed, but instead of sliding off me, he leaned down—and pressed his warm face against the side of my neck.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “What are you doing?”

He nuzzled my throat and I grabbed his shoulders. For a second, just a second, I couldn’t make my muscles obey—then I shoved. He moved easily, sliding off me, then rolled sideways and landed on his back.

Pushing up on one elbow, I glowered at him. “What was that?”

“You are not afraid of me.”

My anger fizzled. “I’m not?”

“No. You are …” He searched for the right word. “You are nervous, na? Your heart was beating fast, but it was not fear.”

I blinked again, my cheeks hot.