House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1) by Sarah J. Maas

Sitting there on those rocks, perched over the world, they seemed like two soldiers who had just walked through the darkest halls of Hel and were taking a well-earned break.

Hunt turned from the picture and rubbed at the tattoo on his brow. A flick of his power had the heavy gray curtains sliding shut over the floor-to-ceiling windows on a chill wind. He peeled off his clothes one by one, and found the bathroom was just as spacious as the bedroom.

Hunt showered quickly and fell into bed with his skin still drying. The last thing he saw before sleep overtook him was the photo of Bryce and Danika, frozen forever in a moment of peace.





28

Hunt woke the moment he scented a male in his room, his fingers wrapping around the knife under his pillow. He opened an eye, grip tightening on the hilt, remembering every window and doorway, every possible would-be weapon that he could wield to his advantage—

He found Syrinx sitting on the pillow beside his, the chimera’s smooshed-up face peering into his own.

Hunt groaned, a breath exploding out of him. Syrinx just swatted at his face.

Hunt rolled out of reach. “Good morning to you, too,” he mumbled, scanning the room. He’d definitely shut the door last night. It now gaped wide open. He glanced at the clock.

Seven. He hadn’t noticed Bryce get up for work—hadn’t heard her buzzing about the apartment or the music he knew she liked to play.

Granted, he hadn’t heard his own door open, either. He’d slept like the dead. Syrinx rested his head on Hunt’s shoulder, and huffed a mournful sigh.

Solas spare him. “Why do I get the feeling that if I give you breakfast, it’ll actually be your second or third meal of the day?”

An innocent blink of those round eyes.

Unable to help himself, Hunt scratched the little beast behind his silly ears.

The sunny apartment beyond his room was silent, the light warming the pale wood floors. He eased from the bed, hauling on his pants. His shirt was a wreck from last night’s events, so he left it on the floor, and— Shit. His phone. He grabbed it from the bedside table and flicked through the messages. Nothing new, no missions from Micah, thank the gods.

He left the phone on the dresser beside the door and padded into the great room.

No sign or sound. If Quinlan had just left—

He stormed across the space, to the hall on the other side. Her bedroom door was cracked, as if Syrinx had seen himself out, and—

Sound asleep. The heap of blankets had been twisted and tossed around, and Quinlan lay belly-down on the bed, wrapped around a pillow. The position was almost identical to the one she’d been in last night in the club, flung over Juniper.

Hunt was pretty sure most people would consider the low-backed gray nightgown, edged with pale pink lace, to be a shirt. Syrinx trotted past, leaping on the bed and nosing her bare shoulder.

The tattoo down her back—scrolling, beautiful lines in some alphabet he didn’t recognize—rose and fell with each deep breath. Bruises he hadn’t noted last night peppered her golden skin, already greenish thanks to the Fae blood in her.

And he was staring at her. Like a fucking creep.

Hunt twisted for the hall, his wings suddenly too big, his skin too tight, when the front door swung open. A smooth movement had his knife angled behind him—

Juniper breezed in, a brown bag of what smelled like chocolate pastries in one hand, a spare set of keys in another. She stopped dead as she spied him in the bedroom hallway.

Her mouth popped open in a silent Oh.

She looked him over—not in the way some females did until they noted the tattoos, but in the way that told him she realized a half-naked male stood in Bryce’s apartment at seven in the morning.

He opened his mouth to say it wasn’t how it looked, but Juniper just strutted past, her delicate hooves clipping on the wood floors. She shoved into the bedroom, jostling the bag, and Syrinx went wild, curly tail wagging as Juniper trilled, “I brought chocolate croissants, so get that bare ass out of bed and into some pants.”

Bryce lifted her head to see Juniper, then Hunt in the hall. She didn’t bother to tug the hem of her nightgown over her teal lace underwear as she squinted. “What?”

Juniper strode to the bed and looked like she was about to plop onto it, but glanced at him.

Hunt stiffened. “It’s not what it seems.”

Juniper gave him a sweet smile. “Then some privacy would be nice.”

He backed down the hall, into the kitchen. Coffee. That sounded like a good plan.

He opened a cabinet, fishing out some mugs. Their voices flitted out to him anyway.

“I tried calling you, but your phone wasn’t on—I figured you probably lost it,” Juniper said.

Blankets rustled. “Are you all right?”

“Totally fine. News reports are still speculating, but they think human rebels from Pangera did it, wanting to start trouble here. There’s video footage from the loading dock that shows their insignia on a case of wine. They think that’s how the bomb got in.”

So the theory had held overnight. Whether it was truly connected to the Horn remained to be seen. Hunt made a note to check with Isaiah about the request to meet with Briggs as soon as Juniper left.

“Is the Raven totally wrecked?”

A sigh. “Yeah—really bad. No idea when it’ll be open again. I finally got a hold of Fury last night, and she said Riso’s mad enough that he put a bounty on the head of whoever was responsible.”