Page 212 of Evil Hearts

Saber-toothed Smile

“Out of the carriage,” I repeated, my hand falling from his mouth.

Ruven flashed me a grin. “Don’t worry. It’s dark, we’re not going that fast, and our driver has been paid a great deal to ignore anything happening behind her for this trip. She probably assumed that would be sex or murder, but escape still counts.” He nudged me with one knee as he bundled up his clothing and tucked it under his arm. “Cloak?”

Right. The cloak. I shoved myself back onto the rear-facing bench, banging my tailbone as I did, and grabbed for the black cloth. Ruven had it out of my hand before I’d even finished passing it towards him, whipping it around himself and getting into a crouch in the same motion.

“Come on,” he said, jerking his head towards the door.

I clambered down, palms sweating. Jumping out of a moving carriage was almost the same as getting thrown from a trotting horse, and the last time that had happened, I’d— I’d—

Before I could fall into a blind panic, Ruven grabbed the handle to the carriage door. “Now!” he snapped, flinging it open.

I moved—a reaction, not an action, my body responding to the way Ruven’s muscles bunched against my back. The world whipped past in a kaleidoscopic blur. Sharp lines of buildings and organic shapes of branches tilted and crossed, my mindstruggling to understand the sudden shifts in light and space as I fell through the air.

My confusion helped. Rather than being tense, I hit the ground in a loose tumble, rolling over one shoulder and scraping the heel of my hand against rough stone. Ruven’s dark form flewoverme, the man landing in a skidding crouch that should have taken the skin off the bottom of his feet, but instead made a sound like wood grinding across stone.

“Up!” he said in a hiss, grabbing me by the upper arm while I was still trying to figure out where all my body parts were. Ruven half-hauled me upright, taking off before I had my feet properly under me and keeping me from falling by hooking his arm around my ribs.

I staggered into a run, my feet hurting from the first smack against the cobbles. The thin leather shoes they’d put me in for the sale did nothing to protect my feet from the impact of running on stone.

Ruven’s feet made sharp clopping sounds on the stone, like a barefoot horse trotting on a road.Hooves, I thought, dazed, and the thought felt more right than the sight of his boots had. Ruven had hooves. That was weird, right? None of the fae I’d seen had possessed hooves, though I’d only seen a handful—

Ruven nearly yanked me off my feet whipping around a corner. My teeth snapped together and I stumbled, needing the support of his arm to keep upright. God, what the fuck, what thefuck—

Pain sang up my calves. A stitch burned in my side. “No one’s even chasing us,” I gasped out, managing to make the second turn without tripping. “Ruven, why—”

A man’s shout cut me off, far closer than I wanted to hear. Adrenaline spiked in my veins. All my skin went cold as my heartrate jumped into the stratosphere.

“Looks like they’re quick on the uptake!” Ruven said, in a determinedly-cheerful sotto voice, panting out the words.

Pain shot up my leg as I stepped on something sharp, a shard slicing deep into my foot. I cried out, a high, helpless sound, and stumbled, unable to put weight on the ball of my left foot without shooting pain. Ruven hissed a curse and hoisted me up in a bridal carry, darting for a half-open door. The door slammed closed behind us, yanked shut by a fuckingtailsnaking out from under Ruven’s billowing cloak.

We skidded into some hapless person’s bedroom. I didn’t get a chance to look around; Ruven dropped us to the floor and dragged me under the bed with him, hauling me backwards. He tossed the cloak over me and wrapped his hand around my mouth as footsteps rang through the hallway.

A female voice lilted through the air, the words too indistinct to make out. “It’s just the door. Probably the wind,” another woman called, sounding distracted. Her footsteps passed by the open door of the bedroom, coming to a halt before she could have reached the door. “Wait. What is that?” she asked, sounding like she was talking to herself. Fabric rustled; a moment later, I heard the sounds of her kneeling and a wet scrape. “What?” she asked again, the word barely intelligible. “Blood?”

That had to be glass in my foot. How much of a blood trail had I left? One drop? A dozen?

I did my best to breathe silently, my foot in throbbing agony, lungs burning. From outside, I heard the sound of pounding feet. Ruven buried his nose in my hair and breathed through his mouth, his hot breath dampening my scalp.

“How strange,” the woman in the hallway murmured. She got to her feet, fabric rustling, and walked back towards us.

Her footsteps paused at the doorway. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. Did she know we were in here? Was I about to die like some girl in a horror movie, listening tothe footsteps of the monster while hiding under a bed with a stranger?

The silence stretched. My lungs screamed for air; my hands shook and tears started gathering on my lashes.

“Xana?” someone called from deeper in the house.

“Coming,” the woman called back. She paused a moment longer—and shut the bedroom door.

I almost collapsed in relief, my whole body shuddering as I panted for breath. Ruven exhaled slowly, relaxing down alongside me. A strong, serpentine length curled around my calf—his tail.

We listened to the woman’s footsteps retreating down the hallway. Silence descended on us, a turgid one laden with anxiety and careful breathing. My vigilance slid away from the hallway to the man behind me, until all at once, my awareness of Ruven took up every fraction of my focus. His naked body was molded to mine as if he belonged there: bare thighs framing mine, powerful arm wrapped across my chest, heartbeat thudding against my spine.

He nuzzled closer with a sigh, his body going softer and tail tightening against me. My heart beat faster, terror and adrenaline transmuting everything to sparkling heat.

“Ruven?” I whispered. He didn’t say anything, arching closer. One warm hand slid under the collar of my shirt to massage the taut muscle of my shoulder. “Ruven,” I whispered again, more insistently. “We can’t stay here. I don’t want to be the monster under someone’s bed.”

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