Storm and Fury by Jennifer L. Armentrout

1

“Just a kiss?”

Excitement thrummed through my veins as I tugged my gaze from the TV screen to Clay Armstrong. It took a moment for my wonky vision to focus and piece Clay’s face together.

Just a few months older than me, he was beyond cute, with light brown hair that was always flopping over his forehead and just begging for my fingers to run through it.

Then again, I’d never seen an unattractive Warden even though I didn’t have it in me to do the mental gymnastics to figure out how they looked like a human and then like a Warden.

Clay sat beside me on the couch in his parents’ living room. We were alone, and I wasn’t quite sure what life choices I’d made to end up with me sitting here beside him, our thighs touching. Like all Wardens, he was so incredibly bigger than me, even though I was five foot eight and not what one would normally consider a short girl.

Clay had always been friendlier toward me than most of the Wardens, flirty even, and I liked it—he gave me the kind of attention that I saw between others but never had been on the receiving end of until now. No one in the Warden community besides my friend Jada, and of course Misha, paid much attention to me, and neither of them wanted to kiss me.

But Clay was always nice, complimenting me even when I knew I looked like a hot mess, and for the past couple of weeks, he’d sought me out a lot. I liked it.

And there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with that.

So, when he’d approached me at the Pit, which was just a really large fire pit where younger Wardens gathered at night to hang out, and asked if I wanted to come back to his place to watch a movie, I didn’t have to be asked twice.

Now Clay wanted to kiss me.

And I wanted to be kissed.

“Trinity?” he said, and I flinched when I saw that his fingers were suddenly close to my face. He caught a piece of hair that had fallen against my cheek and tucked it behind my ear. His hand lingered. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Disappearing on me,” he said. I had, and I did that a lot. “Where’d you go?”

I smiled. “Nowhere. I’m here.”

Those Warden eyes, a bright sky blue, peered into mine. “Good.”

My smile grew.

“Just a kiss?” he repeated.

The excitement went up a notch and I exhaled slowly. “Just a kiss.”

He smiled as he leaned in, tilting his head so our mouths lined up. Mine parted in anticipation. I’d been kissed before. Once. Well, I’d done the kissing. I’d kissed Misha when I was sixteen, and he’d kissed me back, but then it became really weird because he was like a brother to me, and neither of us were about that kind of life.

Plus, things weren’t supposed to be like that between Misha and me, because of what he was.

Because of what I was.

Clay’s lips touched mine, and they were warm and...dry. Surprise flickered through me. I thought they’d be, I don’t know, wetter. But it was...nice, especially when the pressure of the kiss increased and his lips parted mine, and then it was more. His mouth moved against mine, and I kissed him back.

I didn’t want to stop him when the hand along the nape of my neck slid down my back, to my hip. That felt nice, too, and when he eased me down, I went with it, placing my hands on his shoulders as he hovered over me, using his arm to support his weight so he didn’t crush me.

Wardens’ body temperatures ran high—higher than humans, higher than mine—but he seemed hotter, like he was about to burn up.

And I...I felt sort of...lukewarm.

We kissed and kissed, and those kisses weren’t dry anymore, and I liked the way his lower body had settled over mine, how it moved against mine, a mysterious rhythm that felt like it should be, could be, more—if I wanted that.

And that was...nice.

Nice like when he’d held my hand on the way to his place. So was the candle he’d lit that smelled like watermelon and lemonade—there was something romantic about that, and about the way his hand opened and closed on my hip. I felt warm and pleasant, not rip my clothes off and let’s get it on kind of excited, but this was... It was really nice.

Then his hand was under my shirt and up, over my breast.

Hold up.

I reached down and grabbed his hand as I pulled away, separating his mouth from mine. “Whoa.”

“What?” His eyes were still closed, his hand was still on my breast and his hips were still moving.

“I said just a kiss,” I reminded him, tugging on his hand. “That’s more than a kiss.”

“You’re not having a good time?”

Was I? I had been, key word being had. “Not anymore.”

I had no idea what it was about not anymore that somehow translated into kiss me again, but that’s what Clay did. He pressed his mouth to mine, and that pressure was no longer nice. It was almost bruising.

Irritation flared to life like a lit match. Tightening my hand on his arm, I pulled it out from under my shirt. I pushed on his chest, breaking the kiss.

I glared up at him. “Get off.”

“I was trying to,” he grumbled, lifting up, but that was not remotely fast enough for me after that gross comment.

I pushed—pushed hard. Clay toppled off me and to the side, into nothing but open space. He landed on the floor, his weight rattling the TV and causing the flames on the candle to flicker.

“What the Hell?” Clay demanded, sitting up. He looked thunderstruck that I was capable of doing what I’d just done.

“I told you I wasn’t enjoying this.” I swung my legs off the couch and stood. “And you didn’t stop.”

Clay stared up at me, blinking slowly in shock. It was like he didn’t even hear me. “You pushed me off you.”

“Yeah, I did, because you’re gross.” I stepped over his legs and stalked past the window, heading for the door.

He powered to his feet. “You didn’t seem to think it was gross when you were begging me to kiss you.”

“What? Okay. Fake news right there,” I snapped. “I didn’t beg you. You asked me if you could kiss me and I said just a kiss. Don’t rewrite what just happened.”

“Whatever. You know what, I wasn’t even into it.”

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the door. “Sure felt like you were.”

“Only because you’re the only female here that won’t expect me to mate with her.”

Mating in Warden terms didn’t mean hooking up. It meant getting married and having a metric crap ton of little Warden babies, and I was beyond insulted at this point. Not just because that was superwrong of him to say, but it also struck close to home.

There was no one here for me, no relationship that could ever be considered serious. Wardens didn’t mix with humans.

They didn’t even mix with my kind.

“I’m sure I’m not the only female here that doesn’t want to mate with you, you jackass.”

Clay moved with the speed of a Warden. One moment he was beside the couch and the next he was in front of me. “You don’t need to be a—”

“Choose your words wisely, buddy.” Irritation was quickly turning into anger, and I tried to calm down, because...bad things happened when I got angry.

And those bad things usually involved blood.

A muscle thrummed along his jaw and his chest rose with a deep breath before his handsome face smoothed out. “You know, let’s start over.” His hand moved outside my central vision and landed on my shoulder. I jumped, startled by the unexpected contact.

Wrong move on his part, because I did not like to be startled.

I caught his arm. “Can you let me know how much it hurts when you hit the ground?”

“What?” Clay’s mouth hung open slightly.

“Because you’re about to hit it really hard.” I twisted his arm, and there was a brief second when I saw the shock flash across his face. He was a Warden in training, preparing to be the warrior the world knew the Wardens as, and he didn’t understand how I’d gained the upper hand so quickly.

And then he wasn’t thinking anything.

I spun him around and leaned back on my right leg. I kicked out with my left, not holding a damn thing back as my foot connected perfectly with the center of his back. Incredibly proud of myself, I waited for him to eat the floor.

Except that wasn’t what happened.

Clay flew across the room and hit the window. Glass cracked and gave way and then out the window he went, into the yard. I heard him hit the ground. Sounded like a minor earthquake.

“Whoops,” I whispered, pressing my hands to my cheeks. I stood there for, like, half a minute and then I sprang forward, hurrying to the front door. “Oh, no, no, no.”

Luckily the porch light was on and it was bright enough to see where Clay was.

He’d landed in a rosebush.

“Oh, dear.” I went down the steps as Clay rolled out of the bush, onto his side, groaning. He seemed alive. That was a good sign.

“What in the holy Hell?”

I jumped at the sound and looked up, recognizing the voice first. Misha. He came out of the shadows, stopping under the glow from the porch light. Too far away from me to see him clearly, but I didn’t need to see his expression to know he had that look on his face, a mixture of disappointment and disbelief.

Misha turned from where Clay lay on the ground, to me, to the window and then back to me. “Do I even want to know?”

There wasn’t a single part of me that was surprised to see Misha. I’d known it was only a matter of time before he figured out I’d snuck away from the Pit and ended up here.

We were raised together, receiving the same training as soon as we both could walk upright, and he’d been there for my first scraped knee when I’d tried and failed to keep up with him—which he’d laughed at me for—and he’d been there the first time my life came crashing down around me.

Misha had grown from an adorable, freckle-faced, redheaded dork to quite the cutie. I’d had a crush on him for about two hours when I was sixteen, which was when I’d kissed him.

I’d had a lot of short-lived crushes.

But Misha was more than my sidekick or my best friend in the whole world. He was my Protector, bonded to me since I was a little girl, and that bond was intense.

Like, if I died, he died, kind of intense, but if he died first, the bond would be severed and then another Warden would take his place. I’d always thought that was unfair, but the bond wasn’t completely one-sided. What was in me, what I was, fueled him, and his Warden powers often made up for the human part of me.

In a way, we were two sides of the same coin, and I had violated some kind of heavenly rule when I’d kissed him. According to my father, Protectors and their charges were never supposed to engage in naughty, fun times. Supposedly this had to do with the bond, but I had no idea what that really meant. Like what could it actually do to the bond? I’d asked my father, but he’d looked down his nose at me like I’d asked him to explain how babies were made.

None of that meant I was any less annoyed at the moment. “I have it under control.” I gestured toward Clay, moaning on the ground. I could see tiny dark spots on his face. Thorns? God, I hoped so. “Obviously.”

“You did that?” Misha stared at me.

“Yeah?” I crossed my arms as Clay began to pick himself up. “And I don’t feel remotely bad about it. He didn’t understand what ‘just a kiss’ meant.”

Misha pivoted back to Clay. “Is that so?”

“Totally so,” I said.

Growling low under his breath, Misha stalked toward Clay, who had finally risen to his knees. He was about to get some help standing. Gripping him by the back of his shirt, Misha lifted Clay off the ground and turned him around so that he was facing Misha. When he let go, the shorter Warden stumbled back a step.

“Did she tell you no and you didn’t listen?” Misha demanded.

Clay lifted his head. “She didn’t mean it—”

Moving as quick as lightning, Misha cocked back his arm and planted his fist right in the center of Clay’s dumb face. Down the boy went for the second time tonight.

I smirked.

“Just like I didn’t mean to do that?” Misha said, crouching down. “When someone says no, they mean it.”

“Holy shit,” Clay whined, covering half his face with his hand. “I think you broke my nose.”

“I don’t care.”

“Jesus.” Clay started to stand but fell back on his ass.

“You need to apologize to Trinity,” Misha ordered.

“Whatever, man.” Clay struggled to his feet, his voice muffled as he turned to me. “I’m sorry, Trinity.”

I lifted my hand and extended a middle finger.

Misha wasn’t done with him. “You don’t speak to her again. You don’t even look at her or breathe in her general direction. If you do, I’ll put you through the window again and do a whole lot worse.”

Clay lowered his hand and I could see dark blood running down his face. “You didn’t put me through a—”

“You obviously don’t get it,” Misha growled. “I did knock you through a window, and I’ll do worse next time. Understand me?”

“Yeah.” Clay wiped his hand along his mouth. “I understand.”

“Then get the Hell out of my face.”

Clay bolted back inside and slammed the door behind him.

“You need to get back to the house.” Misha’s voice was gruff as he took my hand and led me through the yard, into the shadows.

I let him lead the way, because once we were outside the lights, I couldn’t see crap.

“Thierry needs to know about this,” I said once we hit the sidewalk that led all the way back to the main house.

“Oh, Hell, yeah, I’m telling Thierry. He needs to know and something more than an epic beatdown needs to be handed to Clay.”

“Agreed.” A huge part of me wanted to go back and kick Clay through another window, but I’d let Thierry handle it from here even though that was going to lead to a very embarrassing conversation with the man who was like a second father to me.

But Thierry was the one in the position to do more. He was the boss here, and not just a clan leader but a Duke, overseeing all the other clans and the many outposts in the Mid-Atlantic and Ohio Valley. He was ultimately responsible for training all the new warriors and ensuring that the community remained safe and relatively hidden.

He could make sure that Clay learned to never, ever do that again.

Misha stopped once we were far enough from Clay’s house. “We need to talk.”

I sighed. “I really don’t want to be lectured right now. I know you mean well, but—”

“How did you knock him out of a window?” he asked, cutting me off.

A frown pulled at my lips as I stared up at Misha’s shadowy face. “I pushed him and then I... Well, I kicked him.”

Letting go of my hand, he placed his own on my shoulders. “How did you manage to kick him out the window, Trin?”

“Well, you see, I lifted my leg, like I’ve been trained—”

“That’s not what I meant, you little smart-ass.” Misha cut me off. “You’re getting stronger. Way stronger.”

A shiver curled down my spine and danced over my skin. I was getting stronger, but I imagined that with each passing year, that would continue to happen for the both of us until...

Until what?

For some reason I’d always thought that when I turned eighteen, something would change, but my birthday passed over a month ago, and we were still here, secreted away and well hidden, just waiting for the time when I was summoned by my father to fight.

I wasn’t living.

Neither was Misha.

The all-too-familiar feeling of discontent started to settle over me like a too-heavy blanket, but I pushed it aside.

Now wasn’t the time to think about any of that, because the truth was, I’d been getting stronger for a while now. Faster, too, but I’d been able to hold back when I trained with Misha.

I’d just lost my cool tonight.

Could’ve been way worse, though.

“I didn’t mean to kick him through a window exactly, but I’m glad I did,” I said, lowering my gaze to the dark sweater I wore. “He did seem...freaked out by how strong I was.”

“Of course he did, Trin, because nearly everyone here thinks you’re just a human.”

But I wasn’t.

I wasn’t part-Warden, either, and they were like real-life superheroes, hunting down the bad guys, if superheroes were, well, gargoyles.

Until a little over ten years ago, the beastly looking statues perched on churches and buildings throughout the world were seen only as architectural wonders, but then they went public, exposing to the world that many of those statues were actually living, breathing creatures.

After an initial period of shock, people realized Wardens were just another species, and they accepted them. Well, most humans did. There were fanatics like the Church of God’s Children who believed Wardens were a sign of the end times or something lame, but most people were okay with Wardens, and while the Wardens did sometimes help law enforcement if they happened upon a human committing crimes, Wardens were mostly gunning for bigger baddies.

Demons.

The general public had no idea demons were real or what they looked like or how many different species there actually were. Hell, they had no idea that many demons blended in among them so well that some of them had even been voted into government positions of great power and influence.

The majority of people believed demons were creatures of biblical myth, because some kind of heavenly rule demanded that mankind was to stay in the dark when it came to demons, centering around the incontrovertible idea of blind faith.

Man must believe in God and Heaven and their faith must come from a pure place and not from fear of celestial consequence. If man was ever to find out Hell truly existed, things would go south fast for everyone, including the Wardens.

It was up to the Wardens to dispatch the demons and keep mankind in the dark so that people could live and thrive with their free will and all that jazz.

At least, that was what we’ve been told, what we believed.

When I was younger, I didn’t understand it. Like, if mankind knew that demons were real, they could protect themselves. If they knew that, say, killing one another actually did mean they’d get a one-way ticket with no refunds to Hell, they might act right, but those actions might not be of their own free will. Thierry had explained it to me once.

Humankind must always be in the position of exercising free will without fear of consequence.

But the Wardens of the Potomac Highlands, the ancestral seat of power for the Mid-Atlantic and Ohio Valley clans, where the warriors were trained to protect the human cities and fight the ever-increasing population of demons, had a purpose that extended beyond training the warriors.

They were hiding me.

Most who lived in the community didn’t know that, including Clay and his stupid, floppy hair. He didn’t even know I could see ghosts and spirits, and yes, there was a world of difference between the two. I could count on one hand how many knew the truth. Misha. Thierry and his husband, Matthew. Jada. That was all.

And that would never change.

Most Wardens believed I was just an orphaned human that Thierry and Matthew had felt sorry for, but I was far from being just a human.

The part of me that was human came from my mother. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw her staring back at me. I got my dark hair and brown eyes from her, as well as the olive skin tone courteous of her Sicilian roots. I also had her face. Big eyes. Maybe a little too big, because I could make myself look bugged out without much effort. I had her high cheekbones and small nose that curved slightly to one side at the end. I also had her wide, often expressive mouth.

That wasn’t the only thing that came from my mother’s side. I also had her crap family genetics.

My nonhuman side... Well, I didn’t look like my father.

At all.

“A human can’t punch or kick a Warden around, not even an inch,” Misha said, pointing out the obvious. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have done what you did, but you need to be careful, Trin.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” he asked quietly.

My breath caught as I closed my eyes. I did know. God, did I ever. Clay had deserved what I did and more, but I needed to be careful.

And while Thierry needed to know what had gone down with Clay, because if he behaved that way with me, it was unlikely I would be the only one, Thierry already had a lot on his plate.

Ever since the leader of the Warden clan in DC died back in January, things had been tense here. There’d been a lot of closed-door meetings, more so than normal, and I had overheard—well, eavesdropped on—Thierry talking about escalating attacks and not just on outposts but on communities nearly as large as ours, which was rare.

Just a couple of weeks ago, demons had come close to our walls. That night...

That night had been bad.

“Do you think Clay will say anything?” I asked.

“If he has two working brain cells to rub together, he won’t.” Misha curled an arm around my shoulders and tugged me forward. I face-planted against his chest. “He’s probably too scared to say anything.”

“Of me,” I said, and grinned.

Misha didn’t laugh like I thought he would. Instead, I felt his chin rest atop my head. A long moment passed. “Most of the Wardens here have no idea what they’re hiding. They cannot know what you are.” He said what I knew, what I’ve always known. “They can never know.”

Jerking awake with a gasp, I sat straight up in bed. There were demons outside the compound walls.

There were no sirens warning the residents to seek shelter, which was what happened when demons neared the wall. The estate was as silent as a tomb, but I knew there were demons nearby. Some kind of internal demon radar system was telling me this.

The soft, luminous glow of the stars plastered to my ceiling faded as I turned the bedside lamp on and rose swiftly from the bed.

I quickly pulled on a pair of black sweats and a tank top, because going out and investigating while in undies that had the words Hump Day plastered across the ass wasn’t exactly the best of ideas.

Going out there at all would probably be considered a bad idea, but I wasn’t giving myself time to think about that.

I toed on my running sneakers as I snatched the iron daggers from my dresser, an eighteenth birthday present from Jada, and quietly stepped out into the brightly lit hallway. All the lights in the house were left on for me, just in case I got the munchies in the middle of the night. No one wanted me to trip due to lack of depth perception, breaking my neck falling down the steps, so the mansion was like a freaking lighthouse.

I couldn’t even begin to fathom what the electricity bill was like.

The cool metal of the daggers warmed against my palm as I deftly made my way from the third to the main floor, hurrying before anyone, namely my ever-present shadow, discovered I was up and about.

Misha would flip if he caught me, especially after everything that had just gone down with Clay the night before.

So would Thierry.

But this was the second time in a month that demons had gotten close to the walls, and last time I’d done what was expected of me. I’d stayed safely ensconced in the fortresslike walls of Thierry’s home, guarded not only by Misha but by an entire clan of Wardens who were willing to lay down their lives for me even if they didn’t know that was what they were doing.

Two had died that night, disemboweled by the razor-sharp claws of an Upper Level demon. Ripped apart in such a terrible way there was barely anything left of them to bury, let alone to show their loved ones.

That wasn’t going to happen again.

Doing what I was told, doing what was expected of me, almost always ended up in someone else paying the price for my inaction.

For my safety.

Even my mother.

I slipped out the back door and into the cool mountain air of early June, then took off in a jog toward the left branch of the wall, the section I knew wouldn’t be monitored as heavily as the front. The faint glow of city lamps and solar lights faded, pitching the cleared grounds into utter darkness. My eyes didn’t adjust. They never would at night, but I knew this path like the back of my hand, having explored nearly every inch of the several mile long and wide community over the years. I didn’t need my crap eyes to guide me through the thick cropping of trees as I picked up my pace. The wind lifted strands of long dark hair from my face. As I cleared the last of the ancient elms, I knew exactly how many feet existed between me and the wall even though I couldn’t see it in the darkness.

Fifty.

The wall itself stood at a tremendous size, the height equivalent to a six-story building. The first time I’d tried to jump it, I ended up smacking into the side of it like a bug into a windshield.

That had hurt.

Actually, it had taken a couple dozen tries before I cleared the wall, and at least double that before I could do it successfully multiple times.

I dug in as a burst of power and strength exploded through me. Arms pumping, I shifted the daggers into one hand as I reached twenty feet out from the wall and then I jumped.

It was like flying.

The rush of air, the weightlessness and nothing but darkness and faint twinkling lights in the sky. For a few precious seconds, I was free.

And then I slammed into the wall, near the top. Smacking my hand down on the smooth cement of the top, I caught myself with my free hand before I fell. Muscles in my arm screamed as I hung there for a precarious few seconds and then I curled, swinging myself up onto the top.

Breathing heavy, I shook out the burning in my left arm and then palmed the daggers in both hands as I strained to hear anything in the darkness, a sign of where the action was going down.

There.

My head cocked to the right. I heard the sound of low male voices near the entrance. Wardens. Even though their heightened senses would alert them to the presence of demons, they were unaware. My senses were just more keen, and I knew it would be only a matter of minutes before the Wardens became aware of the demons.

I had a choice.

Sound the alarm and send the Wardens into the hilly forest surrounding the community. There was a good chance some would get hurt, maybe even die, but that was what Thierry would demand of me, what Misha was destined to ensure.

That was what I’d done, time and time before, in different situations, and all them had ended the same way.

Me without a scratch and someone else dead.

Or I could change that outcome, take care of the demons before the demons even knew what they were dealing with.

My mind had already been made up when I’d left the house.

Jumping from the wall to the ground would result in a broken bone or two for me, and since prior experience had proved that, I carefully worked my way along the narrow ledge to the place where I knew a nearby tree stretched toward the wall even though I couldn’t see it. I stopped twenty feet to my left, took a deep breath, said a little prayer and then crouched. Leg muscles tensed. My hands gripped the daggers.

One. Two. Three.

I jumped into the void, lifting the daggers high as I brought my knees up to my stomach. I felt the first whisper-soft brush of leaves, kicked my legs out and then I slammed the daggers down. The wickedly sharp ends dug into the bark, clawing deep as I slid down the tree, stopping when my feet touched a thick branch.

Exhaling heavily, I pulled the daggers free and then knelt, using my hands to guide my way. I closed my eyes and let instinct take over. Slipping from the branch, I landed in a crouch, silent as I remained there for a heartbeat before rising. I took off toward my left, heading deeper into the forest, letting the increasing pressure along the back of my neck guide my way. About a hundred feet later, I stopped in a clearing cut by a narrow creek and dimly lit by silvery moonlight. The scent of rich soil filled me as I looked around. My heart rate kicked up as the feeling of heavy oppressiveness settled on my shoulders.

Fingers relaxing and tightening around the handle of the daggers, I scanned the shadows crowding the trees. They seemed to pulse as I squinted, and impulse demanded that I charge forward, but I knew not to trust what my eyes were telling me. I stood perfectly still, waiting—

Crack.

A twig snapped behind me. Spinning around, I swung the dagger in a high, sweeping arc.

“Jesus,” a voice grunted, and then a hard, warm hand circled my wrist. “You nearly took my head off, Trin.”

Misha.

I squinted, unable to make out his face in the darkness. “What are you doing out here?”

“Did you seriously just ask that question?” He held on to my arm as the air stirred around us. Misha leaned down, and all I could make out was the vibrant, bright blue eyes of a Warden. “What are you doing outside the walls in the middle of the night with your daggers?”

No point in lying now. “There are demons here.”

“What? I don’t sense any demons.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not here. I can feel them,” I told him, tugging on my arm. He let go. “They’re close even if you can’t feel them yet.”

Misha was quiet for a moment. “That’s even more reason why you should be anywhere but out here.” Anger threaded his voice. “You know better than this, Trinity.”

Irritation prickled over my skin as I turned away from Misha to stare rather pointlessly into the shadows as if I could magically get my eyes to work better for me. “I’m tired of knowing better, Misha. Knowing better gets people killed.”

“Knowing better keeps you alive, and that is all that matters.”

“That’s so wrong. That can’t be the only thing that matters.” I almost stomped my foot, but somehow managed to stand still. “And you know that I can fight. I can fight better than any of you.”

“Try not to be too overconfident, Trin,” he replied, tone as dry as the desert.

I ignored that. “Something is going on, Misha. This is the second time in a month that demons have gotten close to the wall. In the last six months, how many communities have been attacked? I stopped counting when it hit double digits, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that each community that’s been attacked has been closer and closer to this one, and each time they’d managed to breach the walls in the other communities, it’s clear they’re looking for something. They’re doing sweeps.”

“How do you know that? Have you’ve been eavesdropping on Thierry again?”

I flashed a quick grin. “It doesn’t matter how I know. Something is going down, Misha. You know that. Demons may go after the smaller compounds in the cities, but they aren’t stupid enough to try to raid a place like this—like they did to some of the other communities.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You think...they know about you? That they’re looking for you?” he asked, and a fine shiver curled its way down my spine. “That’s impossible. There’s no way they know you exist.”

Unease festered in the pit of my stomach. “Nothing is impossible,” I reminded him. “I’m living proof of that.”

“And yet again, if what you suspect is true, the last place you should be is out here.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I saw that,” he snapped.

“That’s impossible.” I looked over my shoulder, in the general vicinity of where he was standing. “You’re standing behind me.”

“Thought you just said nothing is impossible?”

“Whatever,” I muttered.

Misha’s sigh could’ve rattled the trees around us. “If your father knew you were out here...”

I snorted, like a little piglet. “As if he’s remotely paying attention to me.”

“You don’t know that he isn’t,” Misha replied. “He could be watching us right now. Hell, he could’ve been watching you with Clay last night—”

“Ew, come on. Don’t say that.”

“I’m just...” He trailed off.

Misha felt it then.

I knew this because he cursed under his breath and the pressure on the nape of my neck gave way to a series of sharp tingles that spread to the space between my shoulder blades.

The demons were here.

“If I tell you to get back to the wall, will you listen?” Misha asked as he stepped into the moonlight. The silvery glow glanced off slate-gray skin and large wings. Two horns curled back from his skull, parting auburn curls.

I snickered. “What do you think?”

Misha sighed. “Don’t get yourself killed, because I’d like to keep living.”

“More like don’t get yourself killed,” I snapped back, scanning the ever-increasing shadows. “Because I really don’t want to end up bonded to some stranger.”

“Yeah, that would totally suck for you,” he muttered, his shoulders straightening as his stance widened. “Meanwhile, I’ll just be dead.”

“Well, if you’re dead, it’s not like you’d care about anything anymore,” I reasoned. “Because, you know, you’d be dead—”

Misha held up one large, clawed hand, silencing me. “Do you hear that?”

At first, I didn’t hear anything other than the distant call of a bird or possibly a chupacabra. We were in the mountains of West Virginia; anything was possible. But then I heard it—a rustling of bushes and broken branches, a series of clicking and chattering. Goose bumps rose all over my arms.

I didn’t think a chupacabra was making that sound.

Floodlights positioned high on the wall flicked on, filling the forest with intense blue-white light, signaling that the Wardens on the walls now sensed the demons.

And I was most likely going to be caught out here and be in big, big trouble.

Too late now.

The rustling grew louder and the shadows between the trees seemed to warp and spread. Every muscle in my body tensed, and then they came, bursting from the shrubs and scurrying across the clearing. Dozens of them.

Raver demons.