Chapter 9 · Missed Me, Saint?

"Get away from the door, Sera. Now."

Kael didn't look at me. He was already halfway across the room, his hand gripping the hilt of that heavy black blade. The air in the apartment had gone thick, like we were underwater, and the temperature was dropping fast. I could see my own breath frosting in the air.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice shaking. I tried to step forward, but the moment my foot hit the floor, a jagged spike of pain shot up my spine. I gasped, clutching the edge of the cheap wooden table. "Kael, what the hell is out there?"

"Something that doesn't care about our lease agreement," he snapped. He stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the door. His shoulders were broad, a wall of muscle and leather that smelled like ozone and old rain. "Stay behind me. If you move, I can't guarantee I won't accidentally cleave you in half."

"Oh, how romantic," I hissed, though I was trembling. It wasn't fear—not exactly. It was that itch under my skin again, the curse humming in my veins, begging for a spark of divinity to feed on. My skin felt too tight.