House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City, #2)

Hunt tried and failed to get up. As if his body were stunned stupid.

Bryce smirked, a queen triumphant. Every fantasy he’d had of her these months—none of them came close to this. To what her mouth had been like, to what she looked like naked …

Hunt had managed to prop himself up on his elbows when Ithan yelled from the other side of the apartment, “Please: have sex a little louder! I didn’t hear everything that time!”

Bryce burst out laughing, but Hunt could only stare at the little droplet that ran down her chin, gleaming in the dim light of her star. She noted the direction of his attention and wiped off her chin, rubbing her fingers together, then licking them clean.

Hunt growled, low and deep. “I’m going to fuck you senseless.” Her nipples were hard as pebbles, and she squirmed against him. Nothing but those little lace panties separated her sweetness from his bare thighs.

But then Holstrom shouted, “That sounds medically dangerous!”

And Bryce laughed again, rolling off Hunt and reaching for his T-shirt. “Let’s go to a sleazy motel tomorrow,” she said, and promptly went to sleep.

Hunt, mind blasted apart, could only lie there naked, wondering if he’d imagined it all.

Hunt sat in a simple folding chair at the bottom of an abyss, nothing but blackness around him, the only light coming from the faint glow cast by his body. There was no beginning or end to the perpetual night.

He’d fallen asleep beside Quinlan, wondering if he should just slide his hand over her hip to reacquaint himself with that lovely spot between her legs. But Bryce wasn’t there.

He didn’t want Bryce in a place like this, so dark and empty and yet … awake. Wings rustled nearby—not the soft feathers of his wings, but something leathery. Dry.

Hunt stiffened, trying to shoot to his feet, but he couldn’t. His ass stayed planted in the chair, though no ties bound him. His booted feet were glued to the black floor.

“Who’s there?” The darkness absorbed his voice, muffling it. The leathery wings whispered again, and Hunt twisted his head toward the sound. Moving his head was about the only thing he could manage.

“A greater warrior would have freed himself from those bonds by now.” The soft, deep voice slithered over his skin.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Why do you not use the gifts in your blood to free yourself, Orion?”

Hunt gritted his teeth. “It’s Hunt.”

“I see. Because Orion was a hunter.”

The voice came from everywhere. “What’s your name?”

“Midgardians do not feel comfortable uttering my name on your side of the Rift.”

Hunt stilled. There was only one being whose name was not uttered in Midgard.

The Prince of the Pit. Apollion.

His blood chilled. This was a fucked-up, weird-ass dream, no doubt caused by Quinlan literally blowing his mind into smithereens—

“It is no dream.”

The seventh and most lethal of the demon princes of Hel was in his mind—

“I am not in your mind, though your thoughts ripple toward me like your world’s radio waves. You and I are in a place between our worlds. A pocket-realm, as it were.”

“What do you want?” Hunt’s voice held steady, but—fuck. He needed to get out of here, to find some way back to Bryce. If the Prince of the Pit could get into Hunt’s mind, then—

“If I went into her mind, my brother would be very angry with me. Again.” Hunt could have sworn he heard a smile in the prince’s voice. “You certainly worry a great deal about a female who is far safer than you at the moment.”

“Why am I here?” Hunt forced out, willing his mind to clear of anything but the thought. It was difficult, though. This being before him, around him … This demon prince had killed the seventh Asteri. Had devoured the seventh Asteri.

The Star-Eater.

“I do like that name,” Apollion said, chuckling softly. “But as for your question, you are here because I wished to meet you. To assess your progress.”

“We got the pep talk from Aidas this afternoon, don’t worry.”

“My brother does not inform me of his movements. I do not know or care what he has or has not done.”

Hunt lifted his chin with a bravado he didn’t feel. “So let’s hear it. Your proposal for how we should ally with you to overthrow the Asteri and set you up as our new masters.”

“Is that what you think will happen?”

“Aidas already gave us a history lesson. Spare me.”

The darkness rumbled with distant thunder. “You are foolish and arrogant.”

“Takes one to know one, I suppose.”

The darkness paused. “You are impertinent as well. Do you not know where I come from? My father was the Void, the Being That Existed Before. Chaos was his bride and my dam. It is to them that we shall all one day return, and their mighty powers that run in my blood.”

“Fancy.”

But Apollion said, “You’re wasting the gifts that were given to you.”

Hunt drawled, “Oh, I think I’ve put them to good use.”

“You don’t know a fraction of what you might do. You and the Starborn girl.”

“Again, Quinlan got the whole ‘master your powers’ talk from Aidas today, and that was boring enough, so let’s not repeat it.”

“Both of you would benefit from training. Your powers are more similar than you realize. Conduits, both of you. You have no idea how valuable you and the others like you are.”

Hunt arched a brow. “Oh yeah?”

The darkness rippled with displeasure. “If you are so dismissive of my assistance, perhaps I should send some … appetizers to test you and yours.”

Hunt flared his wings slightly. “Why summon me? Just to give me this shove?”

Apollion’s unholy essence whispered around him again. “The Northern Rift is groaning once more. I can smell war on the wind. I do not plan to lose this time.”

“Well, I don’t plan to have a demon prince for my ruler, so find a new five-year goal.”

A soft laugh. “You do amuse, Orion.”

Hunt snarled, and his lightning sizzled in answer. “I take it we’re done here—”

The seething darkness and those leathery wings vanished.

Hunt jolted awake. He was already reaching for the knife on the nightstand when he halted.

Quinlan slept beside him, Syrinx on her other side, both of them snoring softly. In the darkness, her red hair looked like fresh blood across her pillow.

The Prince of the Pit had spoken to him. Knew who he was, who Bryce was—

The Prince of the Pit was a liar and a monster, and it was entirely likely that he was trying to lure Hunt and Bryce into some fool’s quest with their powers. And yet … Fuck.

Hunt ran a shaking hand over his sweaty face, then settled back onto the pillows, brushing a knuckle down Bryce’s soft cheek. She murmured, shifting closer, and Hunt obliged, sliding his arm over her waist and folding a wing around her. As if he could shield her from all that hunted them.

On both sides of the Northern Rift.





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