out, and he whispered a few words.
I gasped as searing pain burrowed into my palm. The magic brightened, then drained into the cut. As the light faded, he wiped away the blood, and we peered at the new pink scar at the base of my thumb.
“That happened last time,” he muttered, prodding the slight ridge with one finger. “Your skin does not grow right.”
“You healed it,” I whispered, lifting my gaze to his. “Why?”
“Your blood smells as bad as it tastes.”
The soft, confusing feeling of gratitude in my chest snuffed out. “Ugh.” I yanked my hand away. “You’re awful.”
“But I do not taste bad.”
“I never want to know what you taste like.” I pulled myself together. “We’re out here because we need to stop the escaped demon. Do you know how to find it?”
He glanced skyward, his pupils constricting to near-invisible slits against the muted light.
“Zylas?” I prompted impatiently. “How do we find the demon?”
“Mailēshta.”
“What?”
“Annoying,” he translated.
“What’s annoying?”
“You.”
I gritted my teeth. “Very mature, Zylas.”
He focused on the lower portion of a rusty fire escape two feet above his head.
“Don’t even think about climbing that.” I folded my arms. “The demon is on the loose because of you, so the least you can do is help stop it.”
“No.”
“Why not? Are you afraid you’d lose in a fight?”
His attention snapped to me. He bared his teeth, but I couldn’t tell if it was a snarl or a smile. “Vh’renith vē thāit.”
I waited a moment. “What does that mean?”
“It means I never lose.”
My eyebrows rose at his arrogance, but who was I to question him on it? From everything I’d seen, he was utterly lethal. Uncle Jack and Claude had said this mysterious demon could be the strongest ever summoned.
His gaze shifted away again as he scanned the alley.
“In that case,” I continued firmly, attempting to draw his attention back, “you shouldn’t have any problem helping—”
“Quiet, payilas.”
“Would you stop—”
He clamped his hand over my mouth and swept me against his chest with his other arm. “Quiet. I am listening.”
Mashed against him, I halted in the midst of digging my fingernails into his abdomen. Sucking in air through my nose, I stilled, ignoring the discomfort of being pressed against him. Warmth radiated from his body, his hand hot on my mouth, his other arm across my back, holding me in place.
He smelled like leather and sweet hickory smoke. The thought crowded into my head, heightening my discomfort.
Nostrils flaring as he scented the damp breeze, he looked one way then the other. After a long moment, he stepped backward into the shadows beneath the fire escape, pulling me with him. A faint buzz of power passed over his body, then the surrounding air cooled—and the shadows thickened like black fog.
We stood in chilly darkness, Zylas holding me tight against him as though I might bolt straight into danger. “Danger” was the only conclusion I could draw from his sudden desire to hide.
A soft footstep crunched on broken glass, the sound traveling down the alley.
“Where are they?” a male voice asked, the rain muffling his quiet words.
“I’m not sure,” another voice answered. “I lost them.”
“Let’s keep moving.”
The glass crunched again. I strained my ears but only heard the increasing downpour. What the heck had that been about? Were those men part of another search team?
Zylas held his position, only his head moving as he tracked sounds I couldn’t hear. I waited. One minute stretched into two, then three, and my discomfort grew. When no other sounds came from the alley, I tugged on his wrist. He didn’t release my mouth. I tugged harder. He ignored me.
Growling against his palm, I dug my fingernails into the back of his hand as hard as I could.
He looked down, surprise widening his crimson eyes. “What are you doing, payilas?”
Let me go! I thought at him, since I couldn’t speak out loud.
He tilted his head curiously—then a husky laugh rumbled from his throat. “Na, you are trying to hurt me? So I let you go? Too soft, payilas.”
Outwardly, I glowered with extra force. Inwardly, I shriveled. My attempt to hurt him was so ineffective he hadn’t understood my intent? Why was his skin so impenetrable?
“Robin? Where are you?”
Amalia’s voice rang out over the drumming rain. Zylas graced me with his taunting smirk, then red light glowed over him. His hand disappeared from my face as his body dissolved into sweeping red light that swirled into the infernus. It vibrated, hot and electric, then returned to an inanimate metal disc.
I clenched