Decree, page 14
Jesse stared a moment, then dipped a hand—pulling out an ivory white rabbit that had sunk beneath the drift. The arrow was still embedded, perhaps that’s what caught his breath.
The fae didn’t shoot the rabbit. He shot it between the eyes.
“How did he do that...?” Kiera murmured.
The wolf raised his eyes, staring intently across the snow. “Practice.”
THE FRIENDS ATE THE rabbit quickly—roasting the edges, then devouring it over a fire made of smoking cloth. There wasn’t much else to burn, they realized in a mild panic. Kiera even offered to let them use her book, thinking it would last longer, but in an act of solidarity, the men had refused.
Tomorrow, they might not. They had limited supplies.
And it was getting much colder.
That first night was utterly freezing. It was the kind of cold one could not escape, the kind that seeped deep into the bones and rattled like a living thing. They did their best of withstand it, huddling and gathering and clenching their chattering teeth. But creatures with warm hearts and warm blood weren’t meant to live in such places, and it was largely a futile enterprise.
Evander had left to do some scouting. The tunic had come off when the sun set, and he was eager to move at an immortal pace—feeling the wind on his cheeks, and the silvery moon in his hair.
Eden stared after him, planting like a tree in the ground and watching the place where he’d vanished, while the others bedded down behind him. Minutes ticked past, as the temperature fell.
“This is...this is so much worse than the desert,” Kiera whispered, wrapping every inch of herself against Jesse’s body. Most days, it would have been a lifeline. But his skin had frosted over almost as much as her own. “I would give anything for a few moments in that awful sun.”
Jesse glanced at the top of her head, shifting a little to soothe the ache in his leg.
It was a bad time to have lost their blankets, let alone the tent. Even in such freezing temperatures, the canvas would have managed to trap some of the heat rising off their bodies.
Without its protection, it vanished like smoke in the wind.
He tightened his grip, then called out softly to Eden. “Evander will come back on his own. She’s getting too cold.”
Before the fae could turn around, he’d already shifted.
Frozen as she was, the shock of it was enough to snap Kiera back to the present—staring with wide eyes as her lover vanished and a ferocious wolf sprang up in his stead. The boots he’d been wearing fell noiselessly to the snow beside them, as he picked up his cloak in his teeth and lay it clumsily over her body. A second later, he lay down beside her, burrowing into the snow.
She stared a split second, unable to register the change, then cuddled next to him—thrilled to discover what the shifter already knew: that wolves ran very hot. The fae was significantly more hesitant, but the pallor of her skin worried him, and he was trembling with the cold himself.
“Is this because I shamed you while hunting?” he asked, hesitating a moment longer before walking back across the snow. “Because this hardly seems a proportionate response.”
The wolf snickered with laughter, watching as he settled on her other side.
“Seven hells,” he murmured, “you are freezing.”
It wasn’t the first time they’d banded together in times of distress. It wasn’t even the first time they’d done it since meeting Evander. But it was the first time they’d done it when Jesse was a wolf. It was a little awkward, truth be told. There was some shuffling as to where to place hands, where to place feet. When Eden wrapped an arm around her shivering waist, hoping to warm her, and felt fur on the other side, his eyes shot open and his body shook with silent laughter.
“Not how you expected to spend the evening?” Kiera teased, her teeth chattering together.
He rubbed at her arms, wrapping the pair of them together.
While the fae was not much warmer than she was herself, there was a steadiness to him that was reassuring. How many times had she tugged on his sleeve, called out his name? To feel the pulse of his heart, calm in the center of her back, was worlds better than the heat of any fire.
“This is something even I have not attempted,” he replied, tensing as Jesse nipped playfully around his ribs. “Do not bite me, wolf. I would not forget it.”
Jesse bit him anyway, making the three of them shake with laughter.
They were still going strong, when Evander appeared suddenly in the snow. He took a single look at them, hopelessly entwined, before turning without expression to Eden.
“I thought we decided against this, on account of the fur.”
Kiera lifted her head. “...what?”
“He’s joking,” Eden interjected, shooting his lover a wry grin. “A vampire’s best attempt at humor. I take it you found nothing of consequence?” he added, still rubbing at her arms.
Evander shook his head, settling down beside him. “Nothing we haven’t already seen.”
There was an edge to him that defied his every attempt to smooth it over. A sense of muted urgency that was written in the paleness of his skin, the sharp reddening around his eyes.
The fae stared a moment in the dark, then lifted himself higher. “Are you thirsty?”
Evander stared a moment, prepared to deny it, but they had never been able to keep things from each other. Instead of answering, he merely shrugged, unfurling his cloak so that it covered them both. It was a gallant effort, but Eden merely rolled his eyes—motioning him closer.
“Drink, then. You already know my answer.”
Kiera locked eyes with the wolf, feeling them shift positions behind her back. They had performed this little ritual a hundred times, but never in such close quarters. A kind of thrill ran up her spine, and she glanced without thinking over her shoulder, only to meet the vampire’s dark eyes.
“Go to sleep,” he said pointedly.
She nodded quickly and turned back around, only to peek once again through her hair.
It was a strange paradox, the delicacy and destruction—a fragile violence that ended in blood all the same. Each movement was practiced, but still unsure. Despite all reassurances, Evander was withdrawn, as if waiting for the inevitable moment the fae would balk and rescind his permission.
That moment never came.
Eden swept back his hair and tilted his neck, offering up that fair and most delicate flesh without a thought to what it might cost him. His eyes closed as those deadly fangs broke the skin, and a faint tremble went through his body. After that, he was still, staring at a fixed point in the sky.
It’s the only time he stops moving, she realized.
A man of perpetual motion, he paused for this one, solitary thing.
Evander drank swiftly and sparingly, taking no more than exactly what he needed. It was already enough. From just a few inches away, it was easy to see a change in the fae’s color. His pale skin drained to a ghostly white, as the vampire pulled suddenly back, reaching for his hand.
At first, she thought it was mere sentiment. Only upon further study, did she realize he was taking his lover’s pulse—making sure it didn’t dip too low, that he hadn’t taken too much.
Because he remembers. He remembers what it was like in the desert.
“Are you finished?” Eden asked in surprise, glancing towards him. “That was not so much.”
Evander touched him softly, unable to meet his eyes. “It was more than enough.”
Chapter 11
It snowed again in the night, too light to be noticed. It wasn’t until the friends began to wake, they realized they’d been completely buried in a drift.
The initial reaction was panic.
That was what propelled Jesse to his feet, breaking through the surface and grasping wildly at the cloak Eden had placed around him when he’d drifted off and lost the transformation. That was what made Kiera shriek out loud, clawing at her neck like she’d been a moment from smothering.
The next reaction...was laughter.
From the immortals.
“You are fine,” Eden reassured them, eyes twinkling with merriment. “Did you think we would not wake when it started? Did you think we would let you suffocate?” He gestured to the tiny cave that had encased them. “It’s much warmer this way. I was thinking of digging one myself.”
Jesse stared blankly, then mumbled something about finding his shoes, while Kiera tossed back her hair in a belated attempt at dignity.
“I think you let a scorpion attack us in the desert,” she said stiffly. “I think your sense of propriety has vanished, and there is no limit to the things you will do.”
Evander smiled, thoroughly charmed. “Did you hear that, mios? She thought you had a sense of propriety.”
The fae nodded seriously, then smashed a handful of snow into her face.
Most days, the lack of scenery would have been a problem—to open one’s eyes and discover that every landmark had vanished, and the world looked exactly the same. But that morning was no different than the last. It would be no different than the one that followed. With unlikely good cheer, the friends extracted themselves from the snowbank, and set about their day.
The sky was bright enough to see, but not as blinding as the day before—troubled on the edges with thick grey clouds rolling in from the east. The others watched them nervously, hoping they might slide right past, but the vampire was delighted to be free of a blindfold.
“We should probably hunt again,” Eden said, a few hours after they’d started walking. “To keep us warm, if nothing else.” His dark eyes scanned the horizon, creasing at the middle. “I almost feel guilty doing it. These creatures are hungry as we are, and have nowhere to flee.”
“I could do it,” Evander volunteered.
How unsurprising.
“And is that how you like your prey?” Jesse asked innocently, shooting the vampire a wicked grin. “Starving and helpless? Unable to escape those pointy little teeth?”
Evander turned to him without expression. “Shall I show you how I like my prey?”
The grin vanished, as the shifter moved to Kiera’s other side.
“I will hunt,” he continued abruptly, coming to a stop.
“Oh, yes?” Eden turned with a smile. “And how would a vampire hunt in such a place?”
Evander paused a moment, then reached for his bow.
“With that?” The fae’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Sweetheart, you’ll only hurt yourself with that.”
The vampire ripped it off his back with a bit more force than necessary, those piercing eyes sweeping the plain. There was apparently nothing to be found, nothing that caught their attention, but the ‘hunt’ was clearly no longer the purpose of the expedition. It had become a matter of pride.
Eden looked with him, standing by his side. “You see that stone?” he asked, pointing into the distance. Evander nodded. “Strike that stone, and I’ll let you drink from me.”
The others laughed, gathering around to watch. The fae would assuredly have let him drink anyway, but it raised the stakes and added a layer of amusement. The vampire’s ego pricked again and he agreed without hesitation, taking an arrow from the quiver with an arrogant smirk and using it to salute. He should have known better. It was the game every young fae grew up playing.
This should be interesting.
Evander lifted the bow to his chin, freezing with sudden concentration. He hovered there a moment, confirming his aim, then let the arrow loose.
It sailed past the stone.
The others howled with laughter as the fae gave him a round of applause. The vampire lowered the bow with a frightening expression, thrusting his hand between them.
“Let me try another,” he demanded.
Eden shook his head, confiscating the bow the way a parent might take some troubling toy away from a child. “Maybe when you’re a little older,” he teased. “At any rate, we’ll already have to recover that one.”
The vampire refused to back down.
“You could not hit that stone yourself,” he countered. “Not even you, Eden. And you know what I think of your skill. Such a thing is beyond the reach even of the fair folk.”
Eden smiled to himself, adjusting the straps on his bag. “Is it now? You may be right.”
Without another word, he continued walking across the plain—glancing around the snowy banks for anything they might find for breakfast. The others froze behind him, staring in dismay.
“That’s it?” Jesse demanded incredulously. “You’re not even going to try? The hunt can wait, Eden. Where are your priorities? This is far more important.”
The fae let out a quiet breath, taking the bow from his back.
He didn’t bother to aim. When he struck the stone, right in the center, he didn’t bother to check. He simply lifted two fingers, never breaking the vampire’s astonished gaze.
Two arrows, they’d wasted. Two arrows, he wanted returned.
“Go fetch, my love.”
THE FRIENDS CAUGHT two more rabbits, and cooked them over a quick-burning fire.
It was likely the last blaze they would have, unless they started burning their own clothes. As it stood, Jesse had used one of their satchels as kindling, emptying its sparse contents into the other.
They smoked whatever strips remained, suddenly anxious about how they would cook the next day’s fare. That panic rose so quick and consuming, Eden walked abruptly away from the rest of them and returned with yet another rabbit. The bag had burned to cinders by then, but they still managed to roast a few more strips before it snuffed out into the snow.
Perhaps it was the knowledge they had no fuel to make another. Perhaps it was the sight of that final bit of smoke, dissipating on the breeze. Perhaps it was merely those same clouds, gathering with fierce velocity on the horizon. But they felt the direness of their situation in a whole new way.
“This isn’t going to work,” Jesse said with a sudden shake of his head. His dark hair whipped around him, already stirring with the coming gale. “We’re going to walk a few more hours, and then wake up already weak with cold and hunger. We need to find something we can burn before then.”
The others paused beside him, bouncing from foot to foot.
“We can use the other pack,” Eden offered softly, already guessing his reply.
The wolf shook his head. “It would burn too quickly—then that’s it. We won’t have the sense or strength to find another. We should do it now, while we still have some reserves to see it through.”
It was a caution he wouldn’t necessarily have known before the desert, a harsh lesson of preparedness those sunbaked dunes had grinded into his bones. The others were still acknowledging the wisdom in it, when he began fiddling with the clasp beneath his throat.
“I’ll look for something,” he said, freeing the cloak from his shoulders. “I won’t be long.”
It took a moment to settle.
“Don’t be foolish,” Eden said quickly, draping the fabric back over his shoulders. “I will look for something myself, or Evander. There is no reason for you—”
“There is no reason for me to take any risks, when I’ve been blessed with a pair of immortal babysitters?” Jesse interrupted, arching his eyebrow with a sarcastic smile. “I’m fully capable of doing this myself, Eden. I might actually have an easier time than you, once I’ve shifted.”
“There is a blizzard coming,” Evander said quietly, dark eyes flickering to the storm. “It can disorient even the most experienced of trackers. You won’t be able to find your way back.”
Jesse kicked off his boots, unwilling to reconsider. “But you could hear if I call?”
Silence.
“Evan,” he repeated, turning to face him, “you could hear if I call?”
The vampire shot a quick look at the fae, then nodded.
“It’s settled, then.”
Jesse wrapped a hand around Kiera’s head and kissed her, trying to project more confidence than he actually felt. He turned in jest to do the same with the fae, and got shoved into the snow.
“Head south,” Eden instructed firmly, “we will continue that way ourselves. If anything should happen, if you start to feel unlike yourself, return to us directly. Promise me that.”
Jesse flashed a careless smile. “Yes, father.”
The fae rolled his eyes, glancing back at the storm. “I hope it takes you.”
The wolf grinned again. “You’re not that lucky.”
Before anyone could reply, he leapt high off the ground, letting the air shimmer and gather around him, before his body shattered into pieces and reknitted itself as something else. No matter how many times the others had seen it happen, the sight never failed to impress. There was a deep-rooted shock to seeing a wolf appear suddenly on a snowbank, when before, it had been a man,
So many times, Kiera had wondered about the first time. How strange it must have been, the first time Jesse saw it. How much stranger it must have been, the first time he tried to do it himself.
It was the fate of all shifter children, he’d once joked. To grow up with a different definition of the word strange than everyone else. Perhaps it was why he was so well-suited to their journey.
She crossed fearlessly towards him, something she wouldn’t have believed about herself only a few months before. Even as a wolf, they stood at roughly the same height. The tips of his ears rose to her cheekbones. She reached up without thinking, stroking her fingers along that chestnut fur.
There was a roughness to Jesse, but a fineness as well—a quality he’d likely rebelled against at some point in his youth, but could do nothing to change. The silken feel of his hair, and largeness of his eyes. The precise rendering of his features—each of them drawn with a skilled hand. It was a beauty that could rival his immortal companions. More grounded, somehow. More real. Even after so long a time, it still managed to shock her, catching her unawares and stealing her breath.
