into you.” Archer swoops down and tosses my coat in my direction. “I’d dress first, if I were you.”
Right. I don the coat, gloves, mask and goggles. I’m still wearing my boots, but I exchange them for a better fitting pair found scattered at Archer’s feet.
“Here.” He pulls a necklace out from under his shirt then over his head. A small vial dangles at the end. He closes the distance between us, extends the vial. “Liquefied manna.”
Considering what I just ate for breakfast, my morning breath has to be at DEFCON Five. I angle my face away from him before I say, “You’re giving me spirit food?”
“Yes. Drink it. If you dare.”
The challenge is unmistakable. “Let me guess. I’ll drink it, and I’ll either fall head over heels in love with you or I’ll end up with explosive diarrhea. Punishment for wanting to give you the stinky boot.”
“You should know me better by now.”
Do I detect...displeasure? And dang it, I do feel guilty about this and the whole ditching thing.
I grab the vial before I can talk myself out of it, pop the cork and drain the contents. The liquid is warm and sweet, like melted honey but not as thick, and as it washes through me, I feel hugged from the inside out. My veins begin to tingle, as if my blood is fizzing.
“What’s happening to me?” I demand.
“I’m sure you noticed that I smelled good while living in the asylum. Manna not only nourishes, it cleanses.”
And addicts. More! Gimme!
“This particular variety of manna is found only in Troika,” he adds, and I glare at him. Manipulated again. “Go. Do your thing.” He gives me a little push, and I end up outside the square.
The jellyair appears wet, and yet I emerge on the other side completely dry. And within seconds, I’m close to frostbite. I trudge behind a tree and take care of business. As I’m fastening my pants—my butt stinging from cold slaps of wind—a snap of twigs. My heart stops. I go still.
Danger!
A familiar scent wafts to my nose. Peat smoke and heather... Pure seduction.
Killian? Nearby?
My heart kicks back into gear, beating hard and fast. Did he watch me pee?
My cheeks burn.
To him, I’m nothing but a soul to be won, I remind myself. One soul in a long line of souls. A number.
Oh, the irony.
He hates defeat almost as much as he hates Archer. No matter how sweet he can sometimes be, my best interests will never be his main concern.
I sprint back to the square—only to realize I can’t see the square. Zero! What am I supposed to—
Archer appears a few feet in front of me, my backpack slung over his shoulder. Sloan and Clay step forward, suddenly flanking his sides. The former inmates are dressed in winter gear, but Archer hasn’t changed out of his T-shirt and jeans. His beautiful features are twisted in a scowl, the stars branded on the palms of his hands glowing bright blue.
“Killian,” we say in unison.
“Want me with you now? This way.” Archer launches into motion, and we do our best to remain close to his heels.
“Killian...the new kid?” Sloan asks, already wheezing. “Why are we running from him? He’s hotter than Bocher! That’s Bow plus Archer, in case your puny brain isn’t hip to my hop.”
“He works for Myriad,” I explain. While I’m not yet wheezing, every step is more difficult than the last, my thighs burning and straining.
“Know what I just heard?” she asks. “He’s young, hung and dumb. My type!”
“Your standards need work,” I say, and okay, yeah, I’m wheezing now.
“Can’t improve on perfection but ow, ow, ow, blisters! I’m not sure how much farther I can make it.”
Archer grins at me over his shoulder. “Why don’t you recite a poem and distract Sloan from her total lack of stamina? Something uplifting for once. And make sure it rhymes. The best poems always rhyme.”
Is he serious? “One poem, coming up.” I clear my burning throat, as if I’m about to say something profound. “You suck in so many ways, but at least our association pays. You kept us warm and away from the swarm, and you’ve got a really nice form. But you are a major pain in the ass, and that’s not just sass—it’s a bitch slap of truth from a sweet little lass.”
He chokes on his one tongue. “That was not uplifting.”
“Then you must not have been listening. I feel better already.” Sloan clutches at her heart as if she’s having an