27
They needed to be better prepared this time. No walking blindly into a trap; they'd go on the offensive first, andforcethe soldier to give them what they wanted. Answers. Vawn's location. The truth.
Jaro tentatively followed his family out the abandoned house and crossed Maia's carpet of flowers. They'd all withered to grey ash; he shot her a look of concern that she didn't notice. He wanted to go to her, to ask if she was okay, to tell her everything would be okay no matter what power called to her. But she was ashamed of him, disgusted by him, and he couldn't bear for her to look at him like that.
He'd ruined everything, but he could do this. He could get her the answers she wanted, and find Vawn to ease her guilt about his capture.
In the shadow of the tree his mate had made, Jaro carefully removed his jacket and tentatively handed it to Azrail. He kept expecting his friend to yell at him, to unleash the same level of wrath on him that Jaro had when Az pushed Maia away and got her captured. But he hadn't, and anger didn't shine in his eyes—only confusing worry.
"What's wrong?" Az asked quietly, an intensity in his eyes that Jaro didn't understand. "You don't have to shift unless you want to."
"I'm fine," Jaro replied, but the idea of removing the rest of his clothes made him want to crawl out of his skin. Maia would look at him and see what he really was—not a brave beastkind, a survivor, or a worthy mate. She’d see a whore.
It was all he knew how to be. Even spying for Az and the rebels, he'd been laid on his back, using the only thing that gave him any worth—his looks, his body. Maia would see all of that. No matter how kindly she'd looked at him before, no matter that she'd seen him—really, truly seen him—this would be different.
"Don't shut us out," Azrail said with a frown, but he backed off when Jaro shook his head and reached for the tangle of shifting magic in his gut.
He'd wreck his clothes and be naked later, but he couldn't bear the process of removing them, ofundressing. It was too close to what he did in the pillow rooms, too close to letting the silk robe slide from his shoulders to bare all of him—all of what his client had purchased.
He didn't dare look at Maia as his skin became fur and his bones reformed into a new body. Would she still think he was beautiful? Or would she only see his poison, his sins? He knew he wasn't her pretty kitty anymore. And to think he'd blushed and told her not to call him that in public.
He’d give anything right now to hear that name.
"Here," Kheir said, bringing the scarf forward and holding it out for Jaro to inhale its scent.
Shaking off the deep aches in his new body, Jaro pushed to his paws and dragged the scent into his lungs, jolting away when strange, unexpected familiarity slammed into him.
"Jaro?" Ark asked, frowning with concern.
Jaro shook his head and took another deep pull, tasting the air. He was wrong—he hadn't got anything right since last night, maybe before then, soof coursehe'd mess up this, too. His nose was lying to him, twisting his mind. The scent seemed familiar, but it couldn't be. Not in Venhaus, not the soldier who'd been injured by the island where dark things brewed.
Jaro jumped as a hand rested on the back of his neck, and his heart skipped. Maia? No, he realised, his mood sinking miserably. Azrail.
"Do you have the scent? Can you follow it?" Az squeezed the back of Jaro's furry neck, a faint comfort that Jaro didn't allow to pierce his misery.
He bobbed his head in a nod. He could follow the scent, but would he lead them to the soldier? What if he took them somewhere else? Somewhere wrong? He needed to prove to Maia that he could be worth something. Hehadto get this right.
"We're going in all magic blazing this time, right?" Maia asked, her gaze on the tree in the middle of the road. "Nothing held back?"
"Nothing held back," Azrail confirmed, and glanced at Jaro. "Lead the way."
With dread pinching his heart and that scent tormenting him, Jaro led them down the street towards the soldier who'd almost killed them.