Page 17 of Cherish

Flint shakes his head at her in a don’t-ask kind of way. Jikan is definitely an acquired taste—which he’s yet to acquire.

“I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes—” I start again.

“Is the game over?” he asks, not taking his gaze from following the ball down the field.

I blink. “No, but—”

“Then you’ve questioned your own answer, haven’t you?” He barely takes a breath before leaping up and shouting again. “Damn it, green! Could you at least pretend to know how to play this thrice-fucked game?”

“‘Thrice-fucked’ seems a bit ambitious,” Hudson comments as he settles down next to me.

“Keep it up and I’ll freeze you, too, Book Boy,” Jikan tells him. Then shouts onto the field, “I should probably freeze all of you! Maybe then you’ll actually be able to stop a ball!” He plops back down and mutters under his breath, “Or at least nothing else will happen until Artelya gets back.”

“Artelya’s on your team?” I ask, my stomach sinking as I realize shehadbeen dressed in green when I first saw her. How the hell am I supposed to break it to him that if she’s showering now, she’s definitely not coming back?

“Yes, finally!” He nods at Chastain. “He’s won the coin toss every week for the last three months to pick first and has chosen her every time. I finally won the toss today, picked Artelya, andfoosh!” He makes what looks like an exploding gesture with his hands. “She vanishes ten minutes into the game.”

“Your bad luck.” Chastain tries to sound sympathetic, but it’s pretty hard to buy when his eyes are dancing with glee. “You know she’s a general with huge responsibilitiesas well asa superior footballer, right?”

“Yeah, well, she’s managed to do both every single week she played foryou,” Jikan fires back. “It’s pretty suspicious the one week I’ve got her, she suddenly has somewhere more important to be.”

He’s got a good point. If I didn’t know about the prisoner back at the castle, I might actually buy his conspiracy theory.

For a second, I want to do what he’s threatening to do—freeze everyone on the field until it’s just the two of us and he has to talk to me. But then I remember what happened the last time Jikan and I got into a god-power pissing contest.

Not only did I lose, but I also ticked him off so much, he almost left all my friends frozen forever. I’m a lot better at controlling my powers these days, so I don’t think that could happen anymore, but I don’t want to take any chances, either.

Especially since Jaxon is currently still frozen, and Flint’s humor is turning more to annoyance by the minute.

So instead of telling Jikan we’re in a hurry like I want to do, I decide I should just head back to Artelya—and whatever awaits there—and tackle Jikan when he’s not so distracted by all of this losing. Before I leave, though, I say, “I won’t bother you again until the game is over. But do you think you could unfreeze Jaxon while we wait?”

That gets his attention.

Jikan turns away from the field for pretty much the first time since we got here, glancing between Jaxon and me like he’s actually contemplating my request.

But then he says, “I kind of like him like that. It’s the quietest I’ve ever seen him,” before returning his attention to the game.

I think about ignoring him and unfreezing Jaxon myself. But if I do that, there’s no way Jikan is going to give us the key to unlock the Shadow Realm. And as much as Jaxon will hate this when he’s unfrozen, I know he’d suffer through it again if it meant a chance at saving his best friend.

So instead of unfreezing Jaxon, I give my friends a be-patient head shake and stand up to leave Jikan and Chastain to watch the rest of the gargoyle equivalent of a casual Sunday game in the park…like it’s the freaking World Cup.

I shoot Hudson a sharp look, wordlessly letting him know I want him to join me, and we both maneuver around Jaxon. “We have to take care of something, but you guys enjoy the game, and we’ll see you after,” I tell the others.

And do my absolute best not to notice when apigeonlands on Jaxon’s head.

9

Prey for Me

“Artelya told you nothing else about the prisoner?” Hudson asks after I catch him up as we head back to the castle.

“Nope. Just that there’s a prisoner who needs interrogating—and by interrogating, I get the strong sense she definitely means torture,” I answer, glancing up at my mate. His jaw tenses as he remains focused on the double doors thirty feet ahead of us, his long strides eating up the distance so fast I have to bump my speed a bit to keep up.

“Excellent. I haven’t enjoyed a good torture in a while.” His accent is crisper than usual when he says it, and I legit can’t tell if he’s kidding or not.

I try to tell myself that he is, but the truth is I just don’t know. Our San Diego college student lifestyle makes it easy to forget that Hudson was raised in a brutal society. And that he feels a million times more comfortable than I do in this deadly world that I’m still trying so desperately to fit into.

Because I don’t know if he’s joking—and I need to before we go in that room—I reach out and snag his elbow, pulling him to a stop. “Hey, you’re not serious, right?” When he doesn’t meet my gaze, focusing over my shoulder instead, my stomach fills with cement. “We don’t torture people,right, Hudson?”

---