She had to settle it now. “You lied to me.”
His eyes were clear and cold. Calculating. “Fine, here is the truth: I did enjoy it. He wanted to kill you and I killed him instead. I didn’t tell you, because I don’t want you to be scared of me.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“Your story about the lost ring and searching for it is pure bullshit.”
“Ah. That.”
He jerked the crossbow up. A black bolt stared at her.
Cerise clenched her sword. Magic sparked deep in her, singing through her body, and leaked from her eyes and the fingers of her right hand onto the sword. A brilliant point of white ran along the blade and died.
William’s eyes glowed like two amber coals. She met his gaze and flinched. No emotion reflected in the amber, only intelligence, cruel in a way the eyes of a hunting Mire cat were cruel. She saw no worry, no softness, no thoughts at all, only waiting. He seemed barely human now, not a man but some feral
thing
, knitted of darkness and biding his time for an opportunity to pounce.
William glanced at her sword. His upper lip rose, showing her his teeth.
My, my, Lord Bill, what
big
fangs you have.
That was all right. She wasn’t Red Riding Hood, she wasn’t scared, and her grandmother could curse his ass so hard, he wouldn’t know which way was up for a week.
William nodded at her blade. “That’s what I thought. You cut through bones like butter, because you stretch your flash onto your sword.”
“And it’s such a nice flash, too. All pretty and white.”
And it will cut you to pieces.
“Won’t do much against a bolt in your chest.”
“How do you know I can’t shield myself with the flash?”
The thing that was William chuckled low. “You can’t do it. It would be nice if you could, but we both know you can’t.”
Bull’s-eye
,
William
. Blade flashing took years of training and every ounce of her concentration. As long as she flashed, her blade would cut through anything, but she could only do it for a split second at a time. Flash defense was beyond her. He’d just pegged her for a one-trick pony, and he was right.
Still, there was no reason she couldn’t bluff. “So eager to die?”
“If you can stop my bolt, show me.”
Oh, crap.
Cerise tensed, ready to dive into the stream behind her the moment he fired. “Any time.”
William just stood there. The amber eyes tracked her every twitch, but he showed no sign of moving.
It dawned on her that if he were going to fire, he would’ve done so already. “You won’t shoot me, will you?”
William growled. “If I do, you’ll be dead.”
And why would her being dead bother him? True, he thought she was pretty, but she wasn’t naive enough to think that would stop him.
Cerise took an experimental step back.
The crossbow shifted a quarter of an inch. He was aiming for her legs. “Don’t move.”
“Let’s part our ways here, William. You go one way and I go the other.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He said nothing.
“What if I run?”
He leaned forward. “That would be a mistake, because I would chase you.”
Oh, dear Gods.
His voice was wistful and tinted with an odd longing, as if he were already running through the dark woods in his mind. The tiny hairs on the back of Cerise’s neck rose. Whatever she did, she couldn’t run, because he would love to chase her and she wasn’t quite sure what would happen at the end of that chase. By the way he looked, he wasn’t quite sure either, but he was pretty sure he would enjoy it.
A small part of her wanted to find out what it would be like to be chased by William through the Mire woods. What it would be like to be caught. Because he wasn’t looking at her as if he wanted to kill her. He was looking at her as if he had something completely different in mind. All she had to do was dash into the woods. The thought of it sent tiny shivers down her spine and she wasn’t sure if it was alarm or excitement.
She was in over her head. Just a smidgeon.
Cerise raised her eyebrows. “I’ve lived my whole life in this swamp. What makes you think you could catch me?”
William grinned, baring white teeth, and chuckled in his wolfish way. The quiet raspy sound made her shiver. In that moment Cerise knew with absolute certainty that he would stalk her, chase her, and catch her. She wouldn’t get away. Not without a fight neither of them wanted.
Cerise glared back at him, right into those fiery eyes. He leaned forward a little, the hungry thing inside him focused on her completely.
He wanted her. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he held himself, loose and ready. It would take the slightest trigger, a smile, a wink, a hint, and he would close the distance between them and kiss her.
Warmth washed through her, followed by the prickly needles of adrenaline. One step forward. That was all she had to do. A month ago she would’ve taken that step without a moment’s pause.
A month ago she wasn’t responsible for her family. Now was no time to be selfish.
If either of them forced a fight, she would kill him, and she would regret not knowing why. Dealing with William was like playing with fire: no right way to do it.
“What would happen if you caught me?” Besides her slicing him to ribbons. Or losing all her sense.
“Run and you’ll find out.”
William took a small step forward.
Cerise jerked back. If he touched her, she would have to make a decision: to cut or to seduce, and she didn’t know which way she would go.
The fire in his eyes sparked and died a little. “Nothing . . . untoward.”
Cerise swallowed. She was wound so tight, the muscles in her legs hurt. Untoward? What the hell did that mean, untoward? “Can you just answer the damn question straight?” Her voice vibrated a note too high. Damn it.
William sighed. The feral edge slipped away. His shoulders dropped slightly. He put the crossbow down. “I won’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid. If you have to go, go. I’ll be good and won’t chase you down. Straight enough for you?”
He meant it, Cerise could see it in his face. He thought she was scared of him and he backed down.
Tension leaked out of her. Suddenly she was tired. “And what will you do here, alone in the swamp?”
He shrugged. “Find a way out.”
Yeah, right. He would wander for days in the Mire. She had no doubt he would survive, but he wouldn’t make it out anytime soon.
“Here is what I know: you’re fast, you know about the Hand, and you’re trained to kill with your bare hands. You look like you’ve been doing it for a while and it doesn’t bother you. I think you like it. And your eyes, they ...” She raised her hand to her face.
“What?”
“They glow.”
He blinked. “I’m wearing lenses to keep that from happening.”
“Well, they aren’t working.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “You got screwed.”
“No point in keeping them in, then.” He sat on a log, pulled his lower eyelid down, fished a lens out, and tossed it into the mud. The second followed. He raised his head with obvious relief, like a kid who was told he could get out of his church clothes. His eyes were actually light hazel, and when he blinked, the amber glow rolled over his irises like fire.
In her head, Cerise walked over to him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him, looking right into those wild eyes. And in her head it would have to stay. For now.
“Better?” she asked.
“Much.” He sat there, blinking, crushed that his scheme had fallen apart. He looked . . . sad. One moment he was some sort of hellspawn with glowing eyes, the next he was a sack of gloom, and all of it looked and felt completely genuine.
She should’ve walked away, except that he knew the Hand, knew it better than anyone she could think of, probably better than anyone in the Mire, and she needed his knowledge desperately. Yes, that was it.
Stop,
she told herself.
The path to becoming a flash fighter was paved with years of training, but it started with one simple rule: never lie to yourself. It meant accepting your true motivations, owning your emotions and desires without pretending they were noble or evil. It was easy to understand but hard to follow. Just like now.
She had to admit and accept the reality: William with his amber eyes and his wolfish laugh, crazy, lethal William, made her head spin. He was like a dangerous puzzle box full of razor blades—press the wrong switch and the blades would slice your fingers to ribbons. And she was the fool who couldn’t wait to press the switches and find out the right one.
Cerise exhaled. She wanted him, fine. No use denying it. But that alone wasn’t enough to let him into the house. Now that she admitted it, she had no trouble putting it aside.
“A man like you wouldn’t be out in the Mire looking for some trinket, William. You lied to me, and I almost took you to my house, where my family lives. I can’t afford to be lied to.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
“Still, you could’ve killed me when I slept. You didn’t. You helped me hide from the Hand, and you saved my cousin. Level with me, William. Why are you here? Are you working for somebody? Tell me.”
Tell me because I don’t want to leave you in this swamp. Tell me so I know we have a chance.
“If you can’t, no hard feelings. We’ll go our separate ways from here. I’ll even draw you a map to get you back to town. If you can’t tell me why you’ve attached yourself to me, just say nothing. But don’t lie to me, or I swear, you’ll come to deeply regret it. I may work together with you, but I won’t let you use me or my family.” Cerise raised her chin. “What will it be?”
HE had to lie.
Cerise was a granddaughter of Louisiana bluebloods. They killed his kind in Louisiana. To her, he was an abomination.
In his head, William had somehow managed to gloss over that fact. But now it stared back at him. He would have to be very careful, William decided. She was scared enough as is. He would have to hide who he was until she was used to him.
He didn’t mean to scare her, but damn, she would be fun to chase. He would give her a head start. And when he caught her, he would make sure she wouldn’t want to run away again.
But she didn’t run. She just stood there, waiting for his answer.
The Mirror would have to be kept out of it as well. The Hand was one rock, the Mirror was the other, and her family was caught in the middle as they clashed. Cerise would think he would use her—and he would—and she knew that in the greater scheme of things, a few Edgers mattered very little.
He had to lie.
That’s what spies did—they lied to get what they wanted. He had to be slick about it, because if he failed, she would wander off into the Mire, leaving him holding the severed end of their conversation, and he wouldn’t do a damn thing about it. It would be a low thing to hurt her. She was protecting her family. If he had one, he would do exactly what she was doing.
He had to convince her that he was working for himself, out on his own personal goal of revenge. And that he was human.
William looked at her. “The man who took your parents is called Spider. I’m here to kill him.”
Cerise blinked. “Why?
She had to ask that. William looked away at the river, trying to keep the memories under control. “Four years ago he slaughtered some children. They were important to me.”
“Were they your children?” she asked softly.
He exhaled slowly, as the wild in him howled. “No. I don’t have any family.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
William almost snarled. He didn’t want her to feel sorry for him. He wanted her to see that he was strong and fast and he could take care of himself. “The first time I got to him, he broke my legs.” William got up, shrugged off his jacket, and pulled up his T-shirt, showing her the long scar that snaked its way up his back. “This was the second time. He had something on his knife, some sort of poison.”
She took a step closer. “And what did you do to him?”
William smiled, remembering. “I beat the shit out of him with a boat anchor. Would’ve done him in, but he knocked me into the water and then the damn boat blew up. I was bleeding a bit by that time from the cut and my throat had closed up from the poison, so there wasn’t much I could do about it.”
“So you’re thinking the third time might be the charm?” she asked.
It better be. “I’ll kill him this time,” he promised. Thinking about ripping Spider apart laced his voice with a happy lupine growl.
She took another step forward. Getting closer and closer. Another step and he would be in her striking range. She was sneaking up on him.