Runebinder (The Runebinder Chronicles #1)(25)

“What am I doing here? I can’t just sit around and wait for them to find me.”

“No one’s going to find you here, Tenn. I promise you that.” Jarrett reached out and put a hand on Tenn’s shoulder. Once more, the current connected, and Tenn found himself wanting to lean into the gravity. “I’m going to go talk to Cassandra. She’s the one in charge. Once we figure out our next move, you’ll be the first to know.”

Tenn bit his lip.

“Hey,” Jarrett said. He moved his hand to Tenn’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m looking after you. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Tenn wanted to say he’d been looking after himself just fine. He wanted to feel a fire of indignation. But the way Jarrett was looking at him...it didn’t make him feel like he was being talked down to. It made him feel kind of nice. To not have to be the only one watching his back. To know that he didn’t have to figure this out on his own.

“Thanks,” Tenn finally managed.

“Of course. I’ll come find you after the meeting’s done. Bathroom and showers are down the hall. Rest up. You’ve earned it.”

When Jarrett left, though, Tenn didn’t feel like showering. Didn’t feel like taking a break. Because the moment Jarrett walked away, Tenn’s thoughts and doubts returned.

And then, all he could think about was how much he felt like bait.

*

The room was simple, clean—smooth earthen walls that shone like marble, a worn Oriental rug, a few lamps and candles and a large bed. It had made him feel guilty at first, having his own space down here while the rest of the city seemed to live all squashed together, then he’d remembered the news from New Orleans: a civilian had helped smuggle his fiancée-turned-bloodling into a camp, sure that she would never, ever kill like the other monsters. The ensuing bloodbath had been proof enough that Hunters and civilians needed to be kept apart. Hunters were few and far between, even when they weren’t being murdered in their own beds. Not to mention, Tenn had a sinking feeling that Caius and his ilk would be more than happy to do “God’s good work” in the dead of night.

He sat on the bed in the suffocating silence and stared at the wall.

It was all he could do to keep Water from taking control. It roiled beneath the surface, a constant hum in his ears, a baritone tinnitus. His stomach rumbled. He needed to eat. And sleep. But he had no clue where to get food and he had a terrible fear that if he let go for one second, if he let himself drift, Water would open and drown them all before he could control it.

What the hell was he doing here? How was he supposed to be a threat to the Kin when he couldn’t even keep his powers under control? In less than a day, everything had turned on its head. He hadn’t thought that was possible anymore—the Resurrection had pretty much fucked everything up beyond compare.

“Lost in thought, Tenn?”

Tenn’s heart leaped to his throat as he jumped to his feet; he knew that voice in the deepest corner of his darkest desires.

Tomás.

The incubus seemed to glow in the lamplight. Or maybe that’s just how he always looked. He leaned against the door, one foot propped against the wood in a pose that reminded Tenn of an old cowboy poster. The fact that Tomás was wearing snakeskin boots helped, though Tenn had never seen a cowboy go about in skintight black jeans and no shirt. He couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering over the curve of Tomás’s lips, the arch of his collarbones, the perfect V of his torso. Tenn was used to seeing bodies carved from use or magic, honed for a purpose. But this was different. Tomás’s body was crafted to be desired.

Then again, for an incubus, that was a weapon all on its own.

“How did you get in here?” Tenn asked. His voice caught in his throat. It wasn’t just from the fear of being trapped with a Howl. He hated the fact that desire rose within him. He hated that he didn’t hate it. It made him feel warm.

It made him feel alive.

“Oh, I come and go where I please.” Tomás pushed himself away from the door and sauntered toward Tenn. Every step closer seemed to raise the room’s temperature. He burned like a radiator, which meant he must have fed recently. Tenn wondered who they’d find dead and frozen in the morning. “I’m glad to see you made it back alive.”

Another step, and he was only a foot away.

Tomás reached out and caressed Tenn’s cheek. Tenn tried not to flinch. He tried not to pull the demon closer.

“Though I am a bit saddened you didn’t heed my advice,” Tomás whispered. His words were frighteningly delicate, on the verge of shattering. “I told you to run.”

Tenn tried to hold on to his senses. He tried to turn the desire into rage.

“I’m not going to take advice from an incubus.”

Instantly they were both on the bed, Tenn on his back and Tomás crouched on top of him. Tomás’s knees pinned Tenn’s arms to his sides. The Howl’s copper eyes blazed gold and his hands clamped against Tenn’s neck.

“I told you not to call me that,” Tomás seethed. He shook his head, as though trying to drown some inner voice. When he looked back at Tenn, he cocked his head to the side and smiled. There wasn’t the slightest bit of kindness in those perfect white teeth. He released the pressure on Tenn’s throat. Slightly.