A Step into the Sun
“What the fuck took you so long?!" Auguste snarled as Ezra braced a foot against the root of the tree and yanked out one of the stakes from his hand. "He'd set the knife down ages before—"
"I had one chance with him distracted, did you want me to waste it by letting him see the knife coming?" Ezra snarled back, huffing and wiping the blood off his hands onto his pants, catching me by the waist as I ran for Auguste. "You all right, puisín?"
"I'm—I'm fine, honestly," I said, although my voice sounded funny. I blinked at Ezra, at the furrow on his brow, the darkened color of his beard from the fire, a shiny burn mark on one ear, and then my eyes widened. "Oh god, you're alive!"
I threw myself against Ezra's chest, my mouth parted on a silent scream as all the terror I kept pinned while stuck with Birsha came suddenly rushing up, bile at the back of my throat. Ezra squeezed tight around me, lifting my toes from the floor and cupping the back of my head with his hand.
"Course I am. Too slippery, remember?" Ezra said. His voice was hoarse and he was shaking against me, but he was solid and safe and he'd been with me—with Auguste—when we needed him.
"I will kill you if you ever run into a fire again," I said, the threat undermined by my sobbing.
"Understood," Ezra murmured, setting me back on my toes.
"We need to get out of here before Birsha sends—" Amon tried to catch my wrist, but I dodged his grip and ran for Auguste.
He was twisted in his trap, face snarling as his fingers slipped around the stake in his other hand.
"Here, I've got it, mate," Ezra said, brushing Auguste's hand away.
"Esther, wait, don't—" Auguste gasped out as I fell onto his lap.
I ignored the orders, grabbing his face in my hands and claiming a hungry, tear-filled kiss. His fangs were out, and he tried to pull away as I licked against his lips. His skin under my hands felt papery and fragile, and there was a metallic and dusty scent to him.
"You need to feed," I said, kissing his lips once more.
"We don't have time—" Amon bit out, behind me.
"Mon coeur, I can't," Auguste breathed, but a growl crawled up from his throat as I twisted my neck and bared my throat for him. "Merde! Have you no sense of self-preservation, Esther?!"
I blinked and turned back to him. There was the thinnest ribbon of pale blue around his black irises, but the rest was pure hunger, the angles of his face sharp and hollow.
"Don't be stubborn," I said softly, and Auguste's teeth bared in his growl. "And don't be stupid. You would never hurt me."
"I'd pry your jaws open before I let you," Mr. Tanner called from my back.
Auguste blinked at that.
"If you're all going to be impossible, at least be swift," Amon hissed.
I arched my neck again and this time, Auguste relented, his freed arms wrapping around my back, stroking my spine once to remind me to relax. He kissed the spot with dry lips, and then his fangs took hold with brutal force. I bit off my cry, eyes squeezing shut, and sagged in Auguste's hold, my fingers rising to comb through his dark hair.
He drank from me, and it had never hurt so much or been so completely welcome. Auguste was alive. He would heal. I would do it myself, even if it drained me dry. Not that he or any of the others would ever allow that.
"Couldn't let you lose him, puisín," Ezra said in a whisper to me, kissing my forehead and ignoring Auguste's snarl of warning. He stepped back and turned to the others as Auguste took another deep, slurping draw from me. "I found my way to the vampires after Birsha had already arrived the first night.”
"The first night? He'd been here the whole time?" Amon snarled.
"Close to it. Soon as he realized Esther was still alive. I didn't get much time to let Auguste know I was with him before Birsha caught up to him. The others are—"
"We found what was left of them," Mr. Tanner said. "We assumed…"
They assumed Auguste had been among the remains. I whimpered and Auguste softened his bite.
"Birsha mimicked Esther's voice to lure Auguste in. To be honest, it almost worked on me too," Ezra said. "But I stayed invisible, and apparently, that's not one of his talents."
"That's enough, Auguste," Amon snapped.
Auguste was already licking at the wound and I sighed, rubbing my cheek against his temple. I was a little lightheaded now, but it was taking the anxious edge off the memory of stabbing Birsha. Auguste's hands slid up to the back of my neck, into my hair, and his whole face rubbed against my throat, a slow groan sliding out from his lips, another lick to the wound.
"Can you walk?" Mr. Tanner asked.
Auguste lifted me in his arms and stood in answer. "Let's leave."
"I'm going to rip the ring out of that bull's nose for letting you—"
"You will not," I answered Amon, catching his eye.
"You're getting spanked for running alone," Booker said firmly, and when we all looked at him, he blinked and added. "Not by me."
"By me," Mr. Tanner growled. But he only bent and sniffed my hair as I approached, still tangled in Auguste's arms. "Later."
"Yes. Later. We are running out of time," Amon snapped.
"You sure Birsha will send someone? Esther…she got him pretty good," Ezra said.
"Ferocious girl," Auguste murmured against my ear, kissing my wound again and taking another lick.
"I can walk."
"You won't," Auguste answered, squeezing around my hips before answering the others. "He'll survive, Amon is right. If he was able to escape, he'll be able to get himself to safety. And I don't believe he bleeds his own blood. He smelled all wrong."