Page 137 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“I’m sorry. You’ll have to leave.”

The man doesn’t linger. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he turns to leave.

Mine grinds his teeth in annoyance.

“Was that yoursecretway of getting in?”

He mumbles something inaudible under his breath and puts the car in reverse to turn back. Yet we don’t go back down the hill. Instead, he finds a clear path through the forest and drives between the trees. The branches hit the sides of the car, the path too narrow for the width of the vehicle.

“What are we doing?” I startle when a thick branch slaps against my window.

“Plan B,” he says.

The path becomes too narrow for the car to advance and he is forced to stop.

“Uh, Mine?”

He swivels to look at me.

“I don’t think your plan B is a plan at all,” I mutter, pointing at my side of the door. Tree branches block the visibility outthe window, and a thick trunk rests against the door, putting pressure on it. Some goods might be expensive in this world, but that doesn’t mean they’re worth it. Case in point, this fancy car. A little pressure from the tree and the metal is already bending inward.

Mine curses aloud. I assume he’s going to put the car in reverse once more to try to remove us from this situation. Instead, he leans over to me, places his hands under my arms, and plucks me off my seat.

I squeal in surprise.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “I need to focus.”

“What are you?—”

My words are cut off when I fall on top of him. The wheel digs in my back, forcing me to press myself into him.

Big. Mistake. He immediately realizes it, too.

I can feel him everywhere.

His hard chest. His rippling muscles. The tension in his body.

His scent envelops me, leather and darkness made more potent by the heat of his body.

I slowly raise my eyes to his. They’re such a vivid green, like freshly grown grass at the height of spring. I’ve always been in awe of his eyes but also rather mesmerized by them. It’s as if they don’t quite fit on his face, yet at the same time, the depths mirrored in them encompass his entire essence.

Crisp. Clear. Orderly.

His eyesarehim. And now they’re watching me just as intently, that vivid shade of green swirling a darker hue. At first, I wonder if it’s his pupils that are growing in size, but as I lean forward to get a better look, I realize it’s the color of his irises. There are myriads of minuscule patterns that swirl in concert, creating a changing canvas, one that tells a story, but that I fear I have yet to learn the language needed to decipher it.

Stark green. Dark green. And a hint of rust.

My tongue peeks out to wet my lips.

His eyes follow that movement.

“Stop moving,” he whispers in a low, almost pained voice.

I blink. “What?”

“I need you to stop moving, Minnie,” he repeats. His voice is much softer now, a caress to my ears that results in a whole-body shiver.

I shift around until I hit something. I frown.

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