Her heart clenched, and she held the dust up to his face. He could have stopped her by now—broken her fingers, if he’d wanted to—but he hadn’t. But he must know that, if she sprayed the dust, his torment would be excruciating.
“What are you talking about?” She’d gained mastery of her voice, at least, and it sounded far more confident than she felt. His comment had unnerved her, and she couldn’t stop staring at him. The shocking contrast of his jaw-dropping beauty with the primal ferocity in his eyes seemed positively otherworldly. “You hardly seem human anymore.” She hadn’t meant to say that part out loud.
“And yet I just saved your life.”
“I didn’t need your help. I had it under control.”
“That’s not how it looked. He was gnawing at your jugular.”
Don’t show weakness, Rosalind. “I was lulling him into a false sense of security. I was preparing to attack.” Her stupid hand trembled, and she hated that he could see her fear. He probably loved every second of her terror, relished the scent of her panic.
His eyes slid over her, landing on her ring—her good luck charm, and one she never took off.
“An iron ring,” he said. “That’s how you stay sane.”
“What are you talking about?”
He slipped closer, his movements fluid, and adrenaline flooded her veins. Run.
But she couldn’t run. Turning her back on him would mean instant death. She kept her feet planted on the ground, her heart racing.
Rivulets of rain poured down his skin. “I want to see what happens when you take it off.”
It was more of a command than a request, but she knew better than to follow his orders. She had no clue why he found her ring interesting, but his intense scrutiny made her uneasy. Like he was peeling away her armor, or catching her coming out of the shower.
“I don’t take it off. Ever. It’s my good luck charm. Some people have votive candles. I have my ring to keep the monsters away.”
“Doesn’t work, though. After all, I’m here.” He leaned closer, and despite the rain she could feel the warmth of his skin. She inhaled his powerful magic: air seared by lightning, a hint of sage and earth. She felt a strange wave of something like desire rolling off him, though she had no idea how she could sense that. He whispered into her ear, “You need to run, Rosalind. They’re coming for you.”
A shudder crawled up her spine as understanding began to dawn in her mind. He hadn’t found her by accident—he’d come for her. But why?
She gripped the iron dust tighter, knuckles whitening. “Who’s coming for me?”
“The Brotherhood. They want to watch the world burn, and you with it.”
Ice closed around her heart. No. He’s lying. “Why would the Brotherhood come for one of their own?”
“You’re not one of theirs. I know what you are. And the Brotherhood will soon find it out.”
He turned, slipping silently into one of the alleys.
With a shaking hand, she lowered the dust.
Chapter 2
Rosalind stepped out of the steamy shower, drying her dark hair with a towel. Josiah had been frantically texting her about meeting in the library for a post-mortem, but she wanted to stop by her residence hall first. The encounter with the mage had left her nerves ravaged.
Plus, it was kind of hard to rush to a work meeting when you knew you were about to get fired.
She slipped into a pair of jeans and a low-cut white shirt. The right outfit wasn’t enough to get her out of this mess, but it couldn’t hurt. She’d chosen her clothes strategically: the white represented purity—Josiah seemed turned on by that, and the low-cut top was just revealing enough to distract him with her cleavage. Only her weapon belt, complete with a loaded gun, ruined the sleek lines of her outfit. But there was no way she was leaving home without it.
She slid her knee-high boots on over her jeans. The iron-lined toes would come in handy if she saw the mage again.
As she leaned closer to the mirror, she pinched her cheeks, bringing out a blush, before glancing at the faint, white scars on her neck. The redcap’s attack had been a very close call. She should be happy to be alive at all. Still, she couldn’t shake the crushing disappointment of her failed kill.
Maybe she could persuade Josiah to bend the rules a little, to keep her on as a Hunter. She’d been born for this. Granted, she panicked when confronted with actual demons, but she’d get better if they gave her a chance.
She gathered up her hunting clothes and pushed through the bathroom door. The mage’s terrifying warning—whatever he’d meant by it—whispered through her skull. As she walked through the hall, she blinked back tears, trying not to imagine the worst case scenario: exile from the Brotherhood.
She pushed open the door of her cramped dorm room.
Her roommate, Tammi, lay on her bed, playing music through her iPhone. As soon as she saw Rosalind, she yanked out her headphones.