Page 45 of A City of Flames

I’m going to pull the trigger sooner at this point.

“Twenty?” He points his index finger at me, but I show nothing. “Twenty-one—”

“Yes,” I sigh sharply. “Now, will you tell me, or do I have to pierce this arrow through your skull to get my question across?”

“Are you always such a killjoy?”

My silence and raised brow are answer enough for him that he expels a breath. “Fine, I’m only twenty-five, so the answer to your question is no, I did not witness it.”

Twenty-five, not even past the stage of never aging. He must have learned how to steal from his youth to be well known for it. “But you still know of them, that means—”

“I know the history. What others of my kind have spoken of. The question is, why am I to tell you, a venator who imprisons or kills us, something that has been kept in the dark for over three centuries?”

“Wouldn’t you want to know if you were me?” Maybe I’m heading into dead ends. Maybe Lorcan is right when it comes to rumors. I keep hearing so many stories that it’s hard to distinguish truth from lies.

“Well, if I were you.” The Golden Thief chuckles a rich melody. “I’d first and foremost stop trying to harm such a talented thief.”

“A highly questionable thief,” I correct as my eyes wander over the mask alight with the night sky. “What is the purpose of that mask anyway? Anyone is likely to recognize you without it.” His presence and amber eyes would give it away, but I don’t want to say that.

“You’d be surprised how daft people can be,” he says as I narrow my gaze. So, he clarifies with a sigh, “It makes me look good.”

I roll my eyes at how vain he is. “Hardly.”

“What a jealous venator,” he croons, rounding the corner of the counter. “I’ll have you know I can easily make anyone fall to their knees for me. Man, woman... troll.”

My throat bobs as my mouth becomes dry.

He stalks towards me, unperturbed by the crossbow aimed at his heart or how lucky he is to miss the floorboard where a quarrel would shoot. And if I wasn’t still holding the weapon, I know he’d be just inches away from me, like our first encounter where he’d pushed his body against mine.

The tip of the arrow touches his jacket as he leans forward, and the edge of his lip slowly curves up. “And I thoroughly enjoy it,” he whispers it like a soft stroke against my skin.

I grind my teeth so hard; pain shoots up my jaw. “You haven’t made me fall to my knees.”

He cranes his neck, a suggestive look in his gaze of golds and browns. “Not yet, at least.”

“You’re such a pig,” I hiss.

“And you have such a dirty mind.” He backs away, chuckling. “Did you think I meant something else?”

I don’t answer, blood rushes up to my cheeks at the sheer embarrassment, but I still manage a glare.

“I already said I don’t involve my pleasures with venators.” He steps on the floorboard, but nothing goes off. Why— “I’d rather stop stealing—wait, no, that’s a lie. I would never do that.” He smiles to himself, shaking his head.

“It seems you might just have to, though.” My smile is tight as my gaze darts to the corner where my trap had failed, but too quick my eyes are back on the Golden Thief. “After all, I’m the one who has the upper hand here.”

“Are you sure about that?” His eyes shift towards the floor. “Why do you think I haven’t set off any of your traps so far?”

What?

My hand almost slips off the crossbow as he chuckles at my expression, undoubtedly surprised. “Maybe you should ask the question: do I work alone?”

My eyes turn to slits, but my pulsing rate fails me as he adds with a whispering taunt, “The answer is no.”

And all it takes is one second for me to have the crossbow in my hand.

The next... patter, patter, patter, and it’s gone as a familiar bright and orange fur sweeps past me, knocking it out of my clammy palms.

I blink, stumbling on the spot. My hands are still mid-air as if it was a force of wind, and I have to bring my focus back. And when I do, I look at the Golden Thief. He’s smiling with his hands behind him before my gaze falls to the ground.

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