Page 21 of Hunted

The faintest glimmer of amusement awakens within me, laced with something less… convenient.

‘You may come closer.’ I extend the courtesy like an invitation rather than an order, not bothering with the clichéd ‘I don’t bite’.

We both know I do.

She doesn’t move.

A flicker of irritation passes through me, sharp enough to register, fleeting enough to dismiss. She remains on the far side of the room as if an invisible line has been drawn between us.

‘I work better with space,’ she says. ‘Nothing personal.’

That she bothers to excuse it at all makes the corner of my mouth twitch.

‘Everything is personal,’ I reply. ‘Especially when someone makes a point of unnecessary distance.’

Her shoulders rise in a small shrug. ‘I’ve learned to avoid assumptions by speaking my thoughts upfront. Let’s agree that it might be personal to you, but not to me.’

I turn then, slow and controlled, and face her fully.

The setting sun edges the city in copper and glass behind me. I know what she sees. The suit. The height. The stillness that reads as a threat even when I am doing nothing at all.

‘You’ve ignored my summons for three weeks. Your elusiveness,’ I say, ‘is either a liability or an asset. I have yet to decide which.’

I am also yet to decide whether to punish her for it.

She meets my gaze this time, direct and unapologetic. ‘People who like control would usually call it a liability.’

‘That depends,’ I say mildly, ‘on whether the control belongs to me. I’m sure you won’t be surprised on which side I prefer it.’

She huffs a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. Husky, mysterious enough to ignite another spark of interest. ‘There it is.’

‘Is there something you’d like to say, Miss Cross?’ I ask. ‘Or are you content to make your judgements in muttering?’

Her chin tips up a fraction. ‘Sure. You look like a sort who doesn’t mind honesty.’ Her gaze darts to the skyscraper behind me for a half-second. ‘You live in a glass tower above the clouds when most of your kind prefer basements and dungeons. That suggests either vanity or defiance. I’m trying to decide which.’

I slide my hands into my pockets.

‘I am not most… beings,’ I tell her. ‘If I need to clarify that for you, we are indeed off to a poor start. Ask what you want to ask.’

She glances towards the window again, towards the bleeding edge of the sun as it lowers behind the city. ‘You stand in daylight. How is that possible?’

A question very few people dare to ask and which is offered to even fewer. Yet the defiance in her scratches at centuries-old ennui, and for reasons I do not care to examine, I indulge her.

‘Age grants privileges. Power refines them. You’ve come across a few of my kind with varying degrees of strength and prowess, have you not?’

Her head jerks in a quick nod, her eyes shifting every few seconds to catalogue more of the room.

‘For those of a certain age, the sun is an inconvenience, yes,’ I say, ‘but it’s not a prohibition. I can tolerate it for hours now. Decades from now, I will walk from sunrise to sunset without consequence. There are advantages to survival when one is patient.’

I don’t mention the greatest privilege of all, the exceptional dominion sealed into me when the Crimson Mother remade my existence.

Only a handful of people who walk this Earth know the legacy of the Five Blood Thrones and the power it imbues its Blood. I am not about to share it with this audacious little bounty hunter whose insolent expression clearly shrieks that she would prefer to be anywhere but here.

As vaguely intriguing or captivatingly beautiful as I might find her.

Her gaze sharpens, less with awe than calculation. ‘And that patience gives you?’ she prompts.

‘Daylight governance,’ I continue. ‘Night dominion. Influence that does not sleep. My… position affords me resilience, longevity, and command. I rule this city because I can afford to see it whole. You’ll be wise not to forget that during our dealings.’