Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)

I cursed silently. Had he heard me running? Maybe his senses had become sharper again, having cooled down outside the house?

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his brow furrowed and toned arms crossed over his chest. “You do realize you’re basically a mouse trying to escape from a hawk.”

I glared at him, trying my best to ignore the painful lump forming in my throat. I was not going to cry right now—there was no way I was going to let him see my tears. Yet I’d been so close to escaping, only to be caught at the last minute. The frustration of that, more than fear, forced the tears to pool in my eyes and I turned my back to him, blinking furiously.

He spoke up again. “Well, I’m fine with the silent treatment so long as that includes you drinking the Elysium.”

I wiped at my eyes quickly before whirling around to face him. “You basically just threatened my life!” I shouted. “You’re telling me and my friends we have to drink some substance that’s going to erase our memories!” My voice sounded strong, but to my horror, I could feel tears starting to fill my eyes again, and no amount of blinking this time was going to hold them back. But I kept yelling, because at least if I did that, I might not break down into sobs.

“I’m not drinking your stupid potion! We don’t even know who you are! Or what you are! Or what that potion is! Who are you to even make such a rule?! You have no right to hold us here!”

He looked at me curiously. “You’re crying,” he said finally.

I wiped at my eyes again. “Yeah, no kidding,” I snapped.

He paused, eyeing me closely, as if deliberating his next words, before informing me, “I don’t like making girls cry.”

I blinked, once again confused by his manner. “Oh, really? You could’ve fooled me. Just let us go, okay? That’s all we want. We just want to leave without having to drink that weird potion of yours.”

“I understand,” he replied after a moment, his voice low.

“W-What?” I spluttered.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “I said I understand. I understand that we have no right to detain you or your friends like this, but you’re just going to have to trust me when I say there is a reason behind our actions.”

“What reason?” I demanded, tears dangerously close to escaping from my eyes again. I choked them back, absolutely refusing to let this stranger see me cry again.

He started to say something but then stopped, pressing his ashen lips together.

“Please,” I urged, my voice thick. “You can’t keep us in the dark like this!” I couldn’t bear the thought of being thrust back into one of those dust-choked rooms, probably with two of these coldbloods guarding us this time to make sure we didn’t escape again.

I felt Navan’s wintry eyes scrutinizing my face, as if debating whether to finally give in to my request.

I drew in another uneven breath, and repeated, in what I hoped was a calmer tone, “Please.”

He ran his tongue over his full lower lip, then finally nodded ever so slightly. His voice was much softer when he spoke again—and once more it confused me what an utter contradiction his attitude was compared to the fearsome display he’d given us barely an hour ago. For that matter, his general demeanor was far more light and conversational that I would’ve expected—not just from a fanged monster, but from the stiff man he’d introduced himself as yesterday, when we’d first come across him and his two companions by the fence. I was still trying to place his personality.

“I see my attempt to scare you earlier didn’t exactly work,” he muttered, almost ruefully.

I frowned, surprised that he’d admit that out loud. He broke eye contact with me and his gaze passed casually over the empty roof surrounding us.

“In any case,” he continued, “all I really want is to get all three of you out of my hair. I may be willing to make… certain compromises, in order to achieve that.” His eyes finished their wandering and returned to me, imbued with concentration. “Are you saying that if I agree to tell you about ourselves, who we are, and why we are here, you will agree to drink the formula?”

I bit down hard on my lip, considering his words. It didn’t exactly seem like a fair question to ask—our agreement to drink his potion would depend on his answers, of course, but… I was desperate now, and the idea of finally getting answers was too tempting for me to turn down.

“Yes,” I replied bluntly. Though in my mind, I added, I’ll consider it.

“Is that a promise?” He took a step closer toward me, close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from his imposing form, and it made me feel lightheaded again.

I took a step back, needing to place more distance between us, but I took a misstep on a patch of moss and slipped. His arm shot out to grab me before I could fall, and I gripped it hard, using it to steady myself again. I met his intense gaze as his nauseating heat flowed through me, his face a few inches from mine. Close enough to kiss, a voice whispered in my mind, and I shook my head in alarm, trying to banish it. Clearly, this was how my brain dealt with stressful situations—by suggesting the most ridiculous, outlandish thing it could think of. Kissing Navan—whatever he was—was the last thing I was ever going to do.

Swallowing, I nodded. “It’s a promise,” I croaked.

“Good girl,” he said, the muscles in his face relaxing.

I frowned at his response, unsure of whether it was meant to be condescending or just… good natured, but before I could remark, he put his arm around my waist and lifted me up again, engulfing me in another wave of heat that made my head spin. He soared with me over the roof and down to the back of the house, where he planted me on the ground, near the back door.

As I found my footing and re-orientated myself, I was alarmed to see Lauren and Angie through the open back doorway, struggling in the grips of Ianthan and Navan’s brother. The girls’ hair was disheveled, and Lauren’s glasses were askew and loose on the bridge of her nose.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. They all looked over—Lauren, Angie, and the two coldbloods.

“What’s going on?” All four of them asked a variation of the same question in unison, which I probably would’ve found amusing, in different circumstances.