A silhouette darkens the alley up ahead, at the exit. I look up and meet a suited-up man. A driver? I bet the Chosen One’s bodyguard. Hewascalling someone before he left the casino. It’s okay. The mage’s body is next to a trash can behind me. At least there’s no way this guard can see it. I’ll just say I know nothing about the creeper. I walk in his direction, putting my resting bitch face on.
His nostrils flare. He takes a deep breath. “Did you fucking kill him?”
I halt. What the fucking fuckity fuck? How does he know this just from smelling the air?
“It smells like him. And it smells like death.” I’m about to thank him for his thorough explanation, but he bares his teeth. “You fucking norm!”
Was that supposed to be an insult?
The man lunges at me, and I gasp in surprise. Adrenaline shoots into my blood again, and I whirl around, preparing to run. My vision of the other side of the alleyway is blocked. Someone’s standing there. I don’t stop running. Hot Blond stands in the middle of the alley with confusion etched on his face. He looks at the Chosen One, then at me, and at the guy behind me. And this is the time he’ll either step away so I can run or stop me in my tracks. I can’t fight two guys, and he’ll grasp that in a second. He’ll know I killed someone.
Hot Blond reaches out as I pass him and his fingers curl around my wrist. His skin is cold against mine, and I jerk away in shock, but he maintains his grip. Angst fills my stomach. It rises like bile in my throat. He got me. He’ll put me down, hold me here. Fear shoots through my every cell. I’ll go to jail. My pathetic life is about to meet its end.
Without missing a beat, Hot Blond turns with me and runs too. I gape at him, my brows rising as we reach the main street. I change my feet to the right, but his grip tightens. I meet his dark eyes.
“This way,” he breathes out, and I wasn’t supposed to notice how velvety smooth his voice is, but I damn do. Blame my three-month dry spell and the sequence of lukewarm fucks that preceded it.
My throat burns as I try to swallow some air, try to feed my aching lungs. I can’t stop running now. Hot Blond keeps up so well I’m sure he could pick up his pace if he wanted to. If I wasn’t dragging him down in my stupid heels. Shooting a glance over my shoulder, I search for the mage’s guard, but I’m not sure he’s following us. The street is crowded. He could be anywhere. He could be right behind us.
I force my legs to pump harder. This is life or death. Hot Blond leads the way down the street, taking a left and a right. If his goal is to lose the way, he’s doing good. The heels squeeze my toes, and I stumble on something, but Hot Blond stretches an arm and keeps me up, almost without wavering.
My heart pounds in my throat when we climb the front stairs and burst into one of the fanciest hotels in town. The casino has one above the game floors, and this hotel is the one other that customers use. I stumble once we reach the carpet, but Hot Blond keeps me up and walking. First into an elevator, then out into a hallway. He fishes something out of his pants pocket — wow, this a nice ass — and presses a card to a digital lock in the door. It opens without a sound.
Only then I notice I followed this stranger into his hotel room. My hands tremble, skin pebbled with cold as I raise my eyes to meet his. He stands across the threshold, eyes on me, chest barely moving. He must be a marathoner not to tire after this run.
“Come inside,” he says, motioning me in. “I bet you need a moment.”
I stare at him as I catch my breath, not entering his place. “I don’t know you.”
“Donatello,” he offers, tugging a strand of golden hair behind an ear. He’s in a white button-down and dark jeans, and I swear I wasn’t into white shirts until I saw this man wearing one. He’s strong, with broad shoulders and everything, but not overly muscled. He’s more to the lean side, like someone who is used to exercise. “I can lend you my ID. You take a picture and send it to one of your friends. Send the location too.”
I chew on my bottom lip as he searches his pockets. He’s telling the truth, and his voice is so clear I know he’s not trying to fool me. I shake my head, and he stops his fussing to look at me. “It’s okay. I trust you.” Trust as in I’m betting my chips you ain’t killing me right now. Besides, my phone isn’t on me, and I have no friends to send the picture to. “My name is Cassandra. You saw what happened, right? Are you sure you want to be seen with me?”
I am, after all, a murderer now. Not sure how it happened, but the dead body is there, and Donatello helped me escape. His shoulders drop, and he looks almost... vulnerable.
“I saw nothing, don’t worry.”
Truth. I nod and walk into the apartment. Donatello steps away to let me in, but I walk too close to him. He smells fantastic. There’s something iron-y, but very subtle. He’s the scent of blood spilled in the woods, and it shouldn’t be sexy, but it so is. I swallow more air in and stand in the middle of the room.
It’s a grade-A apartment. One of the best in this hotel, I’m sure. The living room area has two dark gray lounge chairs and a coffee table that looks more like a block of black marble. I amble my way to one chair and plop down, reaching around my ankles to untie my heels. My toes are begging for mercy. If it wasn’t for Donatello holding me, I would have face-planted the ground several times.
He stops near the threshold to the living room, turning the lights on. “You can have the bed. The shower is above average if you would like to try it.”
I stand up, holding his gaze with mine, a sandal in hand. The heel may come in handy. “Why did you do this?”
“Do what?” He arches a dark eyebrow, turning to face me. The first two buttons of his shirt are open, and I take a good, not-creepy-at-all look at his defined throat and the beginning of his chest. It would be easier to be rude if he wasn’t so handsome.
“Get involved. You don’t know me. And you just saw me kill someone.”
His lips tug into the beginnings of a smile. “Technically, he was dead when I arrived. And you didn’t killsomeone. He was the first Light Mage born in the last three hundred years. Or something like that.”
Adrenaline washes off, and now there’s only dread. “Fuck. Is it that bad?” My voice comes out weak. I hope the Light Mage wasn’tthatimportant. Being rare or special doesn’t mean you’re automatically important. Right?
Donatello presses his lips together as if he’s keeping himself from laughing. “Light Mages are the only ones who can ravage the Cursed Realm. So yeah,” he shrugs, “I guess he was important.”
Holy shit. The Cursed Realm is more of a story than anything for us humans, but the way Donatello said it made the thing sound super important. Like I just destroyed the last chance of the world or opened Pandora’s box.
When I gaze up at him, there’s amusement on his face. “Do you think this is funny?” I hiss, throwing my shoe at him. He chuckles and moves out of the way easily. “Am I destroying the world or something?”