House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1) - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,127

Micah?”

She plunked down the stairs, the ponytail bobbing. “Of course I did. Why the Hel would I want to go out with him?”

“He’s the Governor of Valbara.”

“So? Just because I saved his life, that doesn’t mean I’m destined to be his girlfriend. It’d be like banging a statue anyway.”

Hunt smirked. “In all fairness, the females who have been with him say otherwise.”

She unlocked her door, mouth twisting. “Like I said, not interested.”

“You sure it’s not because you’re just avoiding—”

“See, that right there is the problem. You and the whole rest of the world seem to think I exist just to find someone like him. That of course I can’t be genuinely not interested, because why wouldn’t I want a big, strong male to protect me? Surely if I’m pretty and single, the second any powerful Vanir shows interest, I’m bound to drop my panties. In fact, I didn’t even have a life until he showed up—never had good sex, never felt alive—”

Darkest Hel, this woman. “You’ve got a real chip on your shoulder there, you know.”

Bryce snickered. “You make it really fucking easy, you know.”

Hunt crossed his arms. She crossed hers.

That stupid fucking ponytail seemed to cross its proverbial arms, too.

“So,” Hunt said through his teeth as he dumped his duffel on the ground, clothes and weapons thumping hard. “You gonna come with me to the Oracle tomorrow or what?”

“Oh no, Athalar.” Her purred words ran over his skin, and her smile was pure wickedness. Hunt braced himself for whatever was about to come out of her mouth. Even as he found himself looking forward to it. “You get to deal with her alone.”

32

After dropping off his gear at the apartment, Hunt trailed Bryce back to work, where she said she intended to look through Danika’s location data from Declan and cross-reference it with her own list—and the murder scenes so far.

But the thought of sitting underground for another few hours grated enough that he found himself sitting on the roof instead. He needed the fresh, open air. Even if angels were still flying past—leaving the city. He made a point not to look toward the Comitium, looming at his back.

Just before sundown, Syrinx in tow, Bryce emerged from the gallery with a grim expression that matched Hunt’s own.

“Nothing?” he asked, landing on the sidewalk beside her.

“Nothing,” she confirmed.

“We’ll look tomorrow with fresh eyes.” Maybe there was something they were missing. Today had been long and awful and weird, and he was more than ready to collapse on her couch.

He asked as casually as he could, “There’s a big sunball game on tonight. You mind if I watch it?”

She glanced at him sidelong, her brows rising.

“What?” he asked, unable to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching upward.

“It’s just … you’re such … a guy.” She waved a hand at him. “With the sports and stuff.”

“Females like sports as much as males.”

She rolled her eyes. “This sunball-watching person doesn’t fit with my mental image of the Shadow of Death.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Hunt’s turn to lift a brow. “What do you think I do with my spare time?”

“I don’t know. I assumed you cursed at the stars and brooded and plotted revenge on all your enemies.”

She didn’t know the half of it. But Hunt let out a low chuckle. “Again, sorry to disappoint.”

Her eyes crinkled with amusement, the last of the day’s sun lighting them into liquid gold. He forced himself to monitor the streets around them.

They were a block from Bryce’s apartment when Hunt’s phone rang. She tensed, peering at his screen the same moment he did.

The phone rang a second time. They both stared at the name that popped up, pedestrians streaming past.

“You gonna answer it?” Bryce asked quietly.

It rang a third time.

Hunt knew. Before he hit the button, he knew.

Which was why he stepped away from Quinlan, putting the phone to his ear just as he said blandly, “Hi, boss.”

“I have work for you tonight,” Micah said.

Hunt’s gut twisted. “Sure.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting your fun with Miss Quinlan.”

“We’re good,” Hunt said tightly.

Micah’s pause was loaded. “What occurred in the lobby this morning is never to happen again. Understood?”

“Yes.” He bit out the word. But he said it—and meant it—because the alternative to Micah was now staying at the Governor’s residence in the Comitium. Because Sandriel would have drawn out his punishment for refusing to bow, for embarrassing her, for days, weeks. Months.

But Micah would give him this warning, and make him do this job tonight to