Endless Knight(31)

“What a way to go, ma belle.”


“I’m serious.”


“So am I.” He strode toward the bed, dipping his mouth to mine for brief, wicked kisses, blanking my thoughts. “You love me too much to hurt me.”


I didn’t bother denying it.

“Now, hush. We do best when we doan talk.”


Brows raised, I tilted my head. Because he had a point. I leaned up for more of his lips. Our kiss grew deeper, tongues tangling. I’d heard the phrase “drunk from his lips.” I literally was from the moonshine.

There was French kissing, and then there was Cajun French kissing. Spicier, harder, wilder.

That’s how it was with Jackson. Burning out of control. Probably just as destructive as an inferno. And I didn’t care.

He drew back and tossed me on the bed—


The blanket collapsed; I was plummeting into a pit, arms flailing. At the last second, I snagged the edge with my fingertips.

Jack dove for me. He snatched my wrists just before I lost my grip. “Jesus! I’ve got you!”


I could barely hear him. An ear-splitting foghorn sounded from the roof of the cabin.

A signal for this . . . trap?

As Jack lifted me back into the room, I gazed below. Rusted rebar jutted from the ground at least ten feet down. He yanked me against him, cupping the back of my head protectively.

There’d been no mattress; someone had spread a thin layer of foam across a bed frame, then camouflaged it with a bright blanket and pillows.

“Dear God,” I muttered when the horn died down. In my panic and confusion, I thought I heard wolves howling in the distance.

He hugged me tighter until I could feel his every shuddering breath. “I . . . I could’ve killed you.”


Again debatable. But it definitely would’ve hurt. “Wh-who would do this?” I asked, though I knew. That blaring signal had been like a quitting-time horn for a factory—or for a mine.

“Cannibals.” Jack grabbed my clothes, shoved them into my arms. “If this is their trap, they’re goan to come running. We got to go, bébé. Fast.”


11


DAY 257 A.F.

IN CANNIBAL COUNTRY, APPARENTLY


“Why do they call it a downpour,” Finn mused as we climbed in the pitch dark, “as opposed to an uppour?”


The rain came down so hard it drummed our heads, had since we’d fled the cabin three nights ago.

I’d grown up in Louisiana; I knew thunderstorms. I’d never felt rain like this. Why had I wished it would pound down from the sky?

Finn swiped a muddy hand over his face. “For the record, dealing with cannibal crazies on top of Arcana crazies blows goats.” He melodramatically raised his fist to the sky. “Serenity now!”


Matthew piped up. “Cannibal Arcana!”


“Yeah, yeah, thanks for reminding me that some can be both.”


Though midnight had come and gone, we continued to flee, clawing our way uphill, digging into the mud, into the ash I hated. Streams of gushing water sluiced all around our ankles, threatening to trip us with every step. Tree trunks toppled over left and right, pushed down by rivers of runoff.

But now Jack was there to help me through it.

The threat of cannibals had us charging forward into the night. Even the specter of Bagmen hadn’t motivated us to run like this. Yes, Matthew had told me I’d never “known terror” like I would when the rains came.

We were being hunted by people who wanted to eat us—it didn’t get more terrifying than that.

With no stars to guide us and no sun during the day, we couldn’t pinpoint our position, just kept heading south. We hoped.

After that foghorn, we’d all scrambled together outside the barn; even in the midst of our panic, the three other Arcana had noticed that Jack kept my hand clasped tight in his. With his chest bowed proudly, he’d announced, “Evie’s with me now.”


Matthew had tilted his head. “Not Arcana.”


Finn had grinned, and Selena had looked gutted. But she hadn’t said a word then or since, had seemed to stoically accept it.

Now when we came upon a rushing stream, Jack said, “Come on, you.” He scooped me into his arms, hugging me against his chest as he trudged through the knee-deep water.

I was shivering, miserable, would have given anything to be warm and dry.

“We’re goan to get through this, Evie. And just think, at this pace, we’ll be at your grand-mère’s in no time.”


Now that we were officially together, ??Jack’s attitude had changed. He was even fiercer, even more determined, as if he had something to fight for. For three days we’d been stealing kisses, whispering conversations.

In one, he’d solemnly told me, “After we bring down this game, I’m goan to rebuild Haven for you, ma belle. You see if I doan.” In another, he’d admitted, “By the pool wasn’t our first kiss. When I returned for you after the Flash and you were knocked out in your bed, I’d never seen anything like you, all soft in sleep. I stole a bec doux.” A sweet kiss. “I was gone for you, even then.”


Last night we’d camped for a few hours in the cab of an old logging truck. With Selena on watch, Jack had finally fallen asleep with me in his arms. Drifting off, he’d pressed his lips to my hair, inhaling. In French, he’d murmured, “Honeysuckle. Even now, I could die a happy man.”