Page 95 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

“What do you want for it?” I ask with a thin voice.

“Oh, knowing your secret and a favor in the future will be fine, considering who you are.” He winks at me. I don’t like owing him, but backing out is not an option.

“I owe you a favor—not the sexual kind—” I add hastily when his gaze wanders over me again, and he smirks. “You will keep my secret, and you’ll tell me everything you know about cursed ones in general and me specifically, and hold nothing back?” I ask to make sure we’re on the same page.

“That’s a deal then.” He sounds pleased. Smiling, he clasps my hand in his.

“Deal.” I exhale and suppress a yelp when I feel a burning sensation on the inside of my right forearm. Well, I didn’t think it would be so…binding, but I guess that was naive. He leans in, and my heartbeat picks up even more.

“Wait,” I say and put my hand on his chest to stop him from getting any closer. “I…could you just start with the general information?”

“Scared?” he asks, then laughs when I shake my head in denial. “Show me your mark,” he demands, and I obey.

“So cursed ones always have marks?” I ask.

“Cursed?” He snorts. “The gifted have marks, don’t they?” I nod. “So why would you think it would be any different for you? Magic marks its bearers. It doesn’t care about the name you put on it.”

Magic? As in gift?

He traces the mark, a wriggly line the length of my index finger, running down the inside of my arm. “Give me your hands.” I place my hands in his, and the beast inside me snaps, eager to get to his power, but I hold it back.

“So much potential.” He looks up at me. “And you learned to control it.” His eyes wander to my neck. “Let me have all the information.”

Blood.I take a deep breath and nod.

It’s just a scratch. Nothing you haven’t had a hundred times.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and my muscles tense in anticipation. The sting of a sharp talon runs along my collarbone. Then all hell breaks loose.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

TATE

I’m walking backtoward the center of Platoria when I spot a familiar shadow hurrying around a corner. I don’t linger on the thought of how truly fucked I am if I know her movements so well that I recognize her in such bad lighting.

Ara.

Does she never sleep? Or stay where she’s supposed to, for that matter?

She will be pissed if I follow her.

But she doesn’t know this city, and I remember how easily I pinned her to the wall in that alley in Telos. I curse under my breath before going after her.

Every thought of leaving her alone flies out the window when I follow her into the seediest area Platoria has to offer.

Doesn’t she have any concept of self-preservation?

I lessen the distance between us. Staying hidden isn’t my focus anymore because I see the gazes she draws. Anger burnsthrough me—at her for risking herself and at the human predators assessing her from the shadows. If they so much as move for her, they are dead.

In all the time I follow her, she doesn’t look behind her once.

What the fuck is wrong with this woman?

She ducks through a doorway, and I swear as I recognize the sign above the door. The Dark Horse is notorious for crooked bargains, betting, and illegal fighting. What the hell is she doing here, of all places?

I look down at myself. I’m wearing my uniform, so there is no way I can go in there looking like this and not draw attention. I slip into the shadows of an entryway, watching the door across the street while I contemplate what to do next.

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