I start to go at him, if for no other reason than to permanently erase the smirk from his lips. But then I remember all of the reasons I can’t kill him, or at least not yet anyway. And I force myself to settle for glaring instead.
“Too bad Dace interrupted us when he did. I could tell you were really starting to enjoy it.”
He’s baiting me. Wants me to react, lose my cool, but I refuse to bite.
“And yet, now that you’re back … well, I’m beginning to think I liked you a whole lot more when you were dead. Turns out, the memory of you is much more appealing than the reality.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” My shoulders rise and fall as I stare at a point beyond his shoulder and calculate my next move.
Two dozen steps from here to the cave? Two and a half?
“Oh, you’ve disappointed me so many times I’ve lost count.” He drums his fingers against the armrests, the metal band of his ring clinking hard against the dark wood echoing all around me.
I crick my neck from side to side, and heave a bored sigh. “So tell me,” I say. “Are we done here?”
He lifts his chin and stares down the length of his nose.
“Are we finished with the banter? Is the repartee portion of the evening over? ’Cause if so, I’d really like to get going. I have places to be.”
“This is as far as you go, Seeker.” His irises glow a deep burning red, but only for an instant before turning icy-blue and opaque once again. “Your little adventure ends here. Now.”
“As if you could stop me.” I take another step forward, stopping when my knee nearly meets his.
“What’re you going to do Seeker, kiss me or kill me?” He squints in amusement.
“I’m going to kill you,” I say, my tone straightforward, just stating the facts as I know them. “But not yet. Though someday, I promise you, I will.”
“Sounds like a date.” He wiggles his brow, runs his tongue around the rim of his mouth.
“Best one you’ll ever have.”
I slip around the side of his chair and break into a run. Taking the tunnel at full speed, pushing myself harder, forcing my strides to be longer, when the crash of my shoes slamming hard against the tin floor is soon joined by his.
If I am operating on pure adrenaline as Paloma claimed, I hope it holds long enough for me to escape him.
The sound of the chase blares in my head. A screaming, deafening crescendo of bodies pounding tin that causes my ears to ring, my eyes to tear, until the next step lands on softer ground—propelling me out of the tunnel and into the cave.
A far cry from the spartan cave of my Santos ancestors, the Richters’ cave is one of carefully curated luxury. Plush. Luxurious. Loaded with fine antique furniture and art-covered walls. Ill-gotten gains.
I swerve around the couch. Nearly clearing the den, when Cade rushes up from behind me, moving with unfathomable speed.
He gropes at my shoulder. Yanks hard on my hair. Slowing me just enough to grab hold of my bag and jerk hard on the strap. The sudden reversal flinging me backward until I smack into his chest.
He absorbs the blow easily, lifts his free arm, and secures it tightly against my neck. “It’s too late for you, Seeker,” he hisses, his breath surprisingly hot in such a cold space. “You should’ve never left the Upperworld. That is where the glowing one took you, isn’t it?” He loosens his grip just enough for me to confirm it, but when I gasp a lungful of air instead, he tightens his chokehold again. “This town already mourned you. Their collective grief lasted less than a day. Seems you didn’t make much of an impact during your brief stay in Enchantment. Even Paloma, as ineffective as she is, boasts a better record than you. Guess that makes you the Sorriest Excuse for a Seeker That Ever Was.” He laughs a crude laugh as he hauls me up tighter against him. Repositioning his arm so it’s pushing hard on my larynx. “This feels a little redundant, doesn’t it? I resent having to kill you again. I have better things to do with my time.”
“But it was so much fun the first time,” I croak, the words garbled, unintelligible.
He presses down on my windpipe, severely cutting my oxygen supply. Using his other hand to lift the edge of my sweater, he says, “I want to see your wound, Seeker. I want to see how the little glowing man fixed you. Why do you think he did that—hmm? Why do you think he would come all the way down from the cozy trappings of the Upperworld to save you? You got a thing for Mystics? You been two-timing my twin?”
He throws his head back and laughs, and I use the distraction to jab my elbow hard against my side in a desperate attempt to keep myself covered and hang onto my bag. I can’t afford to lose any of the tools Paloma stashed in there.
But my head is growing dizzy. My vision faint. And Cade is so unfeasibly strong, he merely rips the bag from my shoulder and chucks it clear across the room in one seamless move.
“Oops!” He clucks in a way that reverberates hard against my eardrum. “Seems you’re flat out of luck. You’re completely unarmed and outmatched, Santos.” His breath is hot, fetid, as his tongue runs a leisurely lap around the shell of my ear. “How will you ever defend yourself now?”
It’s a good question. One I’m not sure how to answer. Still, I shore my resolve. Tell myself I can do this. I cannot let him win.
But with my neck tissues collapsing, and the flow of oxygen reduced to a trickle, I have only a handful of seconds at best before I fall completely unconscious.