Chapter 23 · Scent of the Hunter

"Don't move. Not a fucking inch."

Cain’s hand locked around my wrist. Hard. Enough to leave a bruise.

I froze. The garden corridor smelled like damp earth and something sharper. Metal. Blood. I didn't need to look back to know we weren't alone. Every hair on my arms stood up.

"Who is it?" I whispered. My voice shook.

"Someone who doesn't know when to quit," Cain replied.

He didn't let go. He yanked me backward, slamming my spine against the cold stone wall. The impact knocked the wind out of me. He didn't care. He pressed his entire weight against me, chest heaving. His scent—sandalwood and something predatory—filled my lungs.

"Stay behind me," he commanded. His voice dropped an octave, vibrating through my skin. "If you run, you're dead before you hit the grass."

"I can fight!" I snapped, twisting my arm. "I'm not some porcelain doll, Cain."

He let out a low, dark chuckle. It didn't reach his eyes. "You're my doll, Ivy. My favorite little drug. And I don't like it when people try to steal my medicine."

He stepped slightly to the side, shielding me, but his fingers stayed hooked in the fabric of my dress. Pinned.