Page 79 of Threadbound

Jamie offered him a tired, crooked smile. “Maybe,” he agreed.

“Dinner?” Bran asked him, his own lips echoing Jamie’s.

“Yeah, why not?” Jamie agreed.

They walked through the cobbled streets, dried leaves chasing themselves across the bricks as a chill wind tugged atJamie’s already unkempt hair and swirled Bran’s around his face.

It was an ill wind, Bran could feel it. Running its fingers along his spine, twisting something in the pit of his stomach. It had sent him out of the apartment, not in flight, but seeking Jamie. Hoping to keep whatever it was from harming Jamie.

He hadn’t wanted to say as much to the half-breed—hadn’t wanted to frighten him any more than he already was. Bran knew that what he’d said about the Sluagh to Jamie had frightened him. Given him second or third or fourth thoughts about the creature he was allowing to live in his home, humble though it might be.

And yet…

Even with Bran’s admission of what he was, of what it meant to be Sluagh, Jamie had continued on as though nothing had changed. Had continued to offer him smiles and share his meals and the roof over his head. Hospitality and generosity. Kindness.

It both touched and broke Bran’s heart. Because everything Jamie did made Bran like him more—and yet everything Jamie did also made it more and more clear that Jamie didn’t belong in Bran’s world. He was too bright. Too gentle. Toohuman.

And yet Bran couldn’t stay away from him. Couldn’t stop himself from trying to bask in Jamie’s light and warmth, even though he could only offer darkness and cold in return.

“Curry?” Jamie asked him.

“Aye,” Bran replied, smiling up at him. He’d have agreed to anything Jamie asked.

Full of foodand much calmer than he had been now that his belly was full, Jamie held the door of the small curry shop open so that Bran could follow him out, his other hand stuffed into the pocket of his coat. He could see his breath in the air, and the chillon his skin told Jamie it had fallen below freezing. Not by much, but still.

Bran’s black boots scuffed against the cobbles as he half-skipped down the stairs, but the smile on his lips was a little hesitant, and it brought a furrow to Jamie’s brow as he wondered what he’d said or done. “Okay?” he asked Bran.

The smile slid up a little higher. “Aye. Tired, I suppose.”

Jamie nodded once, although he didn’t really believe that Bran was just tired. The thought that Bran was keeping things from him didn’t sit right, although he couldn’t tell if the feeling was more disappointment because he wanted Bran to trust him or worry, Jamie couldn’t quite tell.

Bran let him take the lead, following behind him on the narrow sidewalk as they skirted around the vertical barriers blocking off the entrance to a close.

Jamie happened to glance up, as he often did, checking the shadows of the close, just in case.

Just in casethis, apparently.

“Shit!” The word left his lips involuntarily, and Jamie ran into the confines of the close to bend over the huddled form on the cold cobbles. His fingers immediately went to the man’s throat, seeking a pulse.

“Jamie.” The word was a hiss out of Bran’s lips.

Jamie moved his fingers, seeking something he was increasingly dreading wasn’t there.

“Jamie.”

“We need to call the cops,” Jamie answered him, not looking up, trying to decide if he should bother trying to perform CPR.

The next words that came out of Bran’s mouth were definitely not in English. And the flare of light that exploded againstsomethingthat let out an inhuman shriek was definitely not natural.

Jamie gasped and fell back, away from the man’s body. Away from Bran, who was now deeper into the darkness of the close, his teeth—which looked far too sharp for human teeth—bared and his hand tight around the throat of a?—

Well, Jamie had no idea what the fuck it was.

About four feet tall, it kind of didn’t have legs… more like ankles and feet that stuck out under an oddly tear-shaped body with arms that looked far too long for the rest of it, the knuckles low enough to drag the ground if it had been standing, which it wasn’t because Bran had it shoved up against the rough brick of the building, his hand around its throat.

And, for the first time, Jamiesawthe danger in Bran. The capacity to deal violence, even death.

The almost delicate beauty of his features was gone, replaced by sharp edges and hollow cheeks, eyes that burned black and green and utterly inhuman.

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