Page 5 of Midwinter Night's Prince

On a few occasions, a dog or a rat had been the culprit—the gods knew there were plenty of pests in the kind of dumps she could afford to stay in—but she couldn't assume there was no threat.

"Sorry, buddy." The kitten sleeping against her breast didn't so much as budge as she cupped it in one hand and set him back down on the bed, though both of his yellow eyes were fixed on her, narrowed into slits. She wasn't entirely sure what he understood of the situation, but Velvet had never been difficult when they had to flee.

Sometimes, Blair felt selfish for having taken Velvet with her. Kittens were supposed to have a home, a territory they could lord over. Comfort and stability. She'd given him nothing but grief. Impossible races against creatures so much bigger than either of them. Taking Velvet with her had been an impulse, a thoughtless decision made in the moment. She couldn't bring herself to regret it, though. Blair was a social creature at heart. She couldn't have done this alone. Not for this long.The ball of fur held her sanity in his cute, razor-sharp claws.

She threw on her jacket over the yoga pants and white T-shirt she slept in. Blair always had to be ready to go. Decadent negligees hadn't been part of her life back in the Institute, either, but she'd been one for tiny shorts. No longer. She slept in comfortable clothes no one would blink at if they saw her in the street. She'd also taken to wearing slip-on boots, because they were faster to slide into than anything else. Combat boots might have been more comfortable and practical in the past, but the seconds they required to put on and lace up could mean the difference between being safely out of the way and meeting an untimely death.

At least she'd met Death a few months back, and the guy was a hottie. Blair was infinitely comforted by the fact that there was eye candy in the underworld, but she would still prefer to survive five or so decades before drooling over Tanatos for the rest of time.

Her loaded backpack on her shoulders, she picked up Velvet, and slid him in the inner pocket of the checkered hunting jacket she favored—mostly because of the number of pockets.Then, Blair built shields upon shields, masking her presence as well as she could.

She'd purposely asked for a room on the ground floor, and she paid it night by night in order to be able to slip away unnoticed when it was required. Eyes on the door, she crept out of the window. She could hear approaching footsteps—at least two pairs, though her senses were far less acute than that of the creatures hunting her. Blair's craft wasn't that great. The only magic that came naturally to her was mind control—a discipline she'd never had to learn.It had come to her in her teens, along with her C cup breasts and a few pimples. She tensed. Maybe she'd messed up her shields, and they could already smell her. Sense her. Hear her.

A glance at her electronic wristwatch revealed it was four in the morning.It was possible the footsteps had belonged to a couple of young backpackers coming home late. Her traps were set to wake her up whenever someone entered her building as she slept. She could be overreacting. Maybe she could have slept another two or three hours—and by the gods, she really needed the extra sleep.

She'd never know.

Leaving the hostel without a backward glance, she decided to get out of Kyoto right away. She'd lingered two weeks—that was pushing it. It was the end of October; maybe she could go to Canada? No one would think her stupid enough to submit herself to frostbite. Was she?

Blair frowned, glancing down at the bundle against her chest. She could handle the cold. Velvet, not so much.

Where to next?

She walked at a fast pace in the empty, foggy streets, eyes downcast under her brown hood, bringing no attention to herself.

How about some African country? A little heat would be nice during the coming weeks. Not to mention, like most western witches, Blair was fascinated by African craft. She could learn a thing or two if a clan took pity on her.

A nice fantasy, but of course, she realized she would never make her presence known to other witches. And if a clan did find her? She'd have to make them forget all about it, although messing with the minds of her fellow witches didn't sit well with her.

None of what she'd done sat well with her. Someday she'd make up for it. For now, there was only survival.

Her footfall heavier thanks to all her anger and frustration, she kept going, muttering a slew of curses carried by the wind, most addressed to an infuriating, selfish bastard of a vampire-demigod. Months later, shestillcouldn't believe Seth had put her in this situation. That he'd dared demand she uproot herself from everyone to save his skin.Why her, dammit?

"Fucking half-limp dickwit," were the last whispers out of her mouth when she felt the air change around her, grow colder, almost electric.

"Now, now. That wasn't very nice, witch."

Witch.

He'd always called her that, from the very first time. Here he was, standing in the shadows, wrapped in the darkness of the fog, beautiful and terrible like the god he sort of was.He wore common, mundane clothes that looked like a disguise on him: chinos and a fitted light blue polo shirt. His shoulders were too broad, his frame, too large, and his eyes, too cruel for that kind of clothing.

After all this time, Seth had found her.

That could mean only one thing. Either he was under Aveka's control, and he'd come to kill her, or he'd managed to weasel his way out of the self-appointed queen's grasp.Either way, she was free.

"It took you long enough to get to me." Blair's voice sounded stronger than she felt. Almost teasing.

He shrugged. "To be fair, I was attempting to mess up the job."

Shit.He didn't intend to be here. This wasn't part of the plan. That meant he was still Aveka's puppet, at least partially.

"What now?"Her heart beat fast in her chest.

She'd imagined all the insults she'd spew at him when she saw him again. In her dreams, she screamed at him, threw chairs, daggers, or mugs full of steaming tea at his annoyingly perfect head. But the urgency robbed her of that fantasy. If he was still under Aveka's control, she needed to get out of there, fast.

He glanced behind her shoulder. "We have a minute, perhaps. How have you been?"

Was he fuckingserious?

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