Page 67 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

Tobey. I need Tobey.

Blood blurs my eyes, and I don’t realize I’ve run into someone until my head is smacking against his firm chest.

His brow furrows as I peer up at him.

“What happened?” Jun asks.

It must be an impulse when his fingers graze my cheeks, wiping my tears away as he did at rehearsal. There’s no way he wants to comfort me.

His gaze softens, and I let out a soft sob. Crying in front of him is mortifying.

I ignore his question, posing one of my own instead.

“Why do you keep finding me like this?”

“Before you start making accusations again, I’m not stalking you.”

I hold back a sob, but it comes out as a whimper. “I don’t believe you.”

He holds my face in his hands, his expression firm. “Tell me what happened. Did someone hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“Who?” His eyes flash red.

“Well… they hurt me emotionally.”

“That’s still someone hurting you.” His jaw tightens, and his wings flutter. “Are you going to tell me who did it or what?”

“My mother wants to meet you.” It’s as close as I can get to admitting my own mother is the one who made me cry. A sound between laughter and sorrow escapes my lips.

He lifts a brow. “That’s what you’re crying about? I’ll be a gentleman. Mothers love me.”

“I doubt it.” I snort halfheartedly. “And I don’t want her to meet you.”

“Ouch.”

“I only mean—we’re not even together, Jun-seong, but she thinks we’re mates. I don’t know if that’s a concept for demons, but for a vampire, it’s serious.”

“It is for us, too, but I mean it. I’ll be a gentleman. I’ll be the best mate your mother could want for you.”

“The idea of the two of you being in the same room makes me want to rip my hair out.”

“Don’t. I like your hair.”

I roll my eyes. He’s only being nice because I’m sad. More of his pity. I don’t want it.

“It’s not about you,” I say. “My mother is… well meaning, but sometimes…”

I can’t say what I want to put into words, but it appears Jun can read between the lines.

“I understand family problems. I got ‘em too.”

I manage a weak smile. “I guess, out of everyone I know, our familial issues are the closest.”

He nods. The movement is minuscule, almost imperceptible. What comes next takes me by surprise—his warmth. The blaze of Hell surrounds me before he does.

His arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest, using his strength to hold me tight. Jun is cinnamon and bourbon, and, for a moment, I forget who we are as I nuzzle my face against his chest.