immobile, feeling as if the slight summer breeze might shatter her into a million pieces.
She lost track of time as she stood there; then the distant scent of blood abruptly destroyed her full-blown bout of self-pity.
What the hell?
She was flowing past the outbuildings to a small pond at the bottom of the hill before she realized that the blood she smelled wasn’t Ariyal’s but that of a feral pig that Ariyal had obviously sacrificed to increase the power of his blade.
Her panic eased, but not her need to seek out Ariyal and make certain he was unharmed.
It was a compulsion that refused any logic.
Vaulting over the sagging barbed-wire fence, Jaelyn continued forward, not halting until she was kneeling beside the Sylvermyst, who was crouched next to the water, washing the blood off his hands.
He didn’t turn his head. In fact, he stubbornly refused to acknowledge her arrival at all as he shook the water off his hands. Then, rising to his feet, he grasped his sword over his head, the blade glowing with a white-hot magic.
“What are you doing?” she stupidly asked.
Anything to break the awful silence.
His gaze remained locked on the sword as he sliced it through the air in a slow, practiced pattern.
“Preparing for battle.”
She watched his graceful dance as he performed the ancient Sylvermyst ritual, her heart clenching at his sheer beauty.
His hair shimmered with colors of autumn, his delicately crafted features set in lines of a warrior, and his body honed to an elegant weapon.
Only when he was finished did she straighten, squaring her shoulders for yet another clash of wills.
During her wild run down the hill she’d come to a decision, and now she wasn’t going to be denied. Even if it was destined to drive a greater wedge between them.
“There’s no need for battle,” she said.
He sheathed his sword. “That’s the hope, but we both know our luck isn’t that good.”
“I could improve our luck.”
He turned to meet her stubborn gaze, his face carefully devoid of expression.
“How?”
She crushed her pang of regret. This was how it had to be.
Strictly professional.
“I have the ability to travel in and out of the caves without being sensed,” she reminded him. “Once I’m wrapped in shadows no one will be able to track my movements, not even the wizard. It only makes sense that I go after the child.”
He was shaking his head before she even finished. “No.”
Her brows snapped together. “Have you forgotten there’s a spell on the child that will prevent you from even being able to touch it?”
“I’ll figure out something.”
“But ...”
“I said no.”
Her hands landed on her hips as she glared at him. “Why are you being so stubborn?”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Dammit.” She stepped forward, poking a finger into the center of his bare chest. Okay, so much for being strictly professional. She was suddenly so mad her fangs throbbed. “I’m sorry if it offends your male pride that I’m not a helpless woman who needs a big, strong man to take care of me, but this is who I am. I’m a Hunter, and that means I’m stronger and I’m faster and I’m better trained than ninety-nine percent ...”
He was moving before she could react, grabbing her upper arms in a punishing grip.
“This has nothing to do with my pride,” he growled. She made a sound of disbelief. “Really?”
“Really.” His glare seared over her pale face. “Okay, I’m male enough to occasionally want to flex my muscles just to prove I have them, but I would never want you to be less.”
She stilled, savoring the feel of his warm hands against her skin. It didn’t matter that he held her in anger. She was so hungry for his touch she would take whatever she could get.
Pathetic.
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“It’s your power and your beauty and your stubborn independence that make you who you are,” he said, as if the words were being yanked from him. “I would never change that. Not ever.”
His words touched the vulnerable place deep inside her, but Jaelyn fiercely refused to be distracted.
In this moment all that mattered was that she keep Ariyal from walking into such an obvious trap.
“Then is this because you don’t trust me with the child?” she accused.
His jaw clenched so tight she could hear his teeth grinding together.
“No, it damn well has nothing to do with trust.”
“Then what?”
“Because if you are hurt or worse ...” He struggled against a fierce tide of emotion. “I’m not sure I will survive.”
Stunned by his raw confession