Page 24 of Midwinter Night's Prince

You could have warned her in clearer terms. You could have told her the truth.

He might have, and then what? Blair would have used the knowledge to manipulate him, just like Aveka. He couldn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust anyone.

Then why give her your soul?

His jaw tightened.

It wasn’t his problem, he repeated to himself.

Seth turned his back on the portal, determined to walk away. He could report to Aveka that Blair had fled to Olympus, beyond any of their reach. He’d spend the rest of his days under Aveka’s boot—at least until the Eirikrson spawn grew powerful enough to be so kind as to rid him of the bitch. His soul would remain fractured, but what of it? He was hardly the first sup to lose part of it. Those who lost their mate lived with only half a soul, after all.

If they survived.

And he’d never see Blair again. Her pink-tipped hair. Her slender leather-clad limbs. The curve of her lips when she chuckled. She never laughed with him. Why should he care for smiles that weren’t directed at him? Why should he care at all?

Seth forced one step, and another one, marching forward. Then, without so much as instructing his body to do so, he set off at a jog, putting more distance between the portal and himself, until he reached a line of trees. Seth turned back and ran faster and faster, building momentum, before jumping through the invisible barrier.

Anticipating the crushing pain, the burn in his golden blood, didn’t lessen the suffering. His gut tightened as nausea hit him, churning his stomach. A scream clogged his throat, but he held it in. His presence was no doubt already expected on the other side. No need to announce it to every monster awaiting prey.

Seconds, minutes, or hours might have passed. He couldn’t tell. Finally, Seth’s feet hit soft forest loam, just as a scent sweeter than cotton candy, as sickening as vomit, and more enticing than blood hit his nostrils.

Seth rose from his crouch, eyes narrowed as he turned on his heels. He’d expected a welcome committee ready to flay his skin from his flesh, but he was alone in the enchanting woods. Blue leaves adorned everlasting oak trees, glistening over a starless sky.

The grass under his boots was of a darker pink, almost faded. It was winter, then, though cold never touched the enchanted forest.

The hoot of an owl in the distance cut through deafening silence. Seth’s gaze turned toward the direction where the sound had come from. Nothing. He couldn’t see one live animal, despite the acuity of his vampire eyes.

Never looking away, he set off at a jog in the opposite direction.

He needed to get out of these woods. Right now.

Seth knew enough of hunts to realize that he was the prey, and the creature on his trail felt like playing, like a cat with a mouse.

He’d been running through eternal oaks in the same direction for what felt like hours, when he stilled, stopping at a clearing. The shape of a boot on the grass. Seth’s nostrils flared.

He could smell something beneath the sickening fragrance of the woods.

Himself.

Seth stepped on the track, unsurprised when he saw the shape perfectly matched his own footfall.

He’d been running in circles, though he’d never turned.

He was trapped.

14

SENSELESS

Blair had never thought herself the kind of girl capable of licking anyone’s boots, but it turned out, her survival instincts trumped her pride.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she told the goddess quite honestly.

Old masters might have attempted to paint or sculpt the beauty of goddesses, but they’d all failed. The creature before her was so perfect Blair couldn’t bear to look at her directly. Her eyes couldn’t take it—it was like staring at the sun for too long; blinding.

She might have said some of that—or all of it—out loud, because the goddess laughed. The sound was a birdsong, soft, sweet, and enchanting.

“Aren’t you sweet, child. Sweetness won’t serve you well here.” The goddess leaned in, as if to share a secret. “My kind likes to crush it.”

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