Hunt And Bryce Quotes

I've got you," he murmured. "Sweetheart, I've got you.

The power shall always belong to those who give their lives to the city.

I heard what you said.' Pump, pump, pump went his powerful arms. 'What you waiting to admit until I was almost dead, you fucking coward.' His lightening surged into her, sending her body arcing off the ground as he tried to jump-start her heart. He snarled in her ear, 'Now come say it to my face.

Hunt’s voice was a thunderclap as he said behind her, “Light it up, Bryce.

Fury didn’t stop her prep. “Bryce was a ghost for a long while, Hunt. She pretended she wasn’t, but she was.” The helicopter finally pulled into the air. “You brought her back to life.

Want to count my abs when we get home from the ballet?

Bryce stared at the fire, her face still splattered with the Archangel’s blood. And finally, she lifted her eyes. Right to the camera. To the world watching. Vengeance incarnate. Wrath’s bruised heart. She would bow for no one. Hunt’s lightning sang at the sight of that brutal, beautiful face.

It couldn't be. It... it couldn't be. Bryce and Hunt were frozen with shock. Ruhn whispered, "Day?" Lidia Cervos looked over a shoulder. And she said with quiet calm in a voice he knew like his own heartbeat, a voice he had never once heard her use as the Hind, "Night.

It means that he’s going ballistic in the way that only mates can when the other is threatened. It’s what happened then, and what’s happening now. You’re true mates—the way Fae are mates, in your bodies and souls. That’s what was different about your scent the other day. Your scents have merged. As they do between Fae mates.

But Micah purred, “I would like to take you to dinner, Bryce Quinlan.” She pulled out of his grip, joining Hunt in the elevator. And as the doors closed, she looked the Archangel of Valbara full in the face. “Not interested,” she said.

Hunt." The entire world went quiet. "I was waiting for you." "Bryce, sweetheart, just get back to your apartment and give me an hour and-" "No," she whispered, closing her eyes. She put her hand on her chest. Over her heart. "I was waiting for you- in here." Hunt couldn't stop his own tears then. "I was waiting for you, too.

She whispered, "I'm scared." Danika grabbed her hand again. "That's the point of it, Bryce. Of Life. To live, to love, knowing that it might all vanish tomorrow. It makes everything that much more precious.

Oh gods,” Bryce said, choking. “Hunt is a fucking prince.” She laughed bitterly.

-It's illegal. -Are you quoting the motto of the Meat Market, or trying to tell me that you somehow don't have precisely what I need?

I am Bryce Quinlan,' she said to the Gate, to the void, to all of Hel behind it. Her voice was serene—wise and laughing. 'Heir to the Starborn Fae.' The ground slid out from under Hunt as the light between her hands, the Star she'd drawn from her shattered heart, flared bright as the sun.

If my powers only work if my big, tough male helps me out—” “It can’t be romantic?” Hunt demanded. Bryce huffed. “I’m an independent female.

So Hunt pulled back. Stared into his mate's beautiful face for the last time. He laughed softly, a sound of wonder at odds with the crystal throne room and the monsters in it. "I love you. I wish I'd said it more. But I love you, Quinlan, and..." His throat closed up, his eyes stinging. His lips brushed her brow. "Our love is stronger than time, greater than any distance. Our love spans across stars and worlds. I will find you again. I promise.

Bryce shouldered the canvas bag, surveying the Viper Queen. “Nice outfit.” The serpentine shifter smiled, revealing bright white teeth—and canines that were slightly too elongated. And slightly too thin. “Nice bodyguard.” Bryce shrugged as those snake’s eyes dragged over every inch of Hunt. “Nothing going on upstairs, but everything happening where it counts.

Those look like broken ribs," Hunt said wryly. "Definitely broken ribs, Athalar," Bryce replied, sitting back on her heels. "And a broken arm, from the way he's cradling it." "Skull fracture's healed," Hunt observed with equal distance, as if they were on one of his favorite Vanir crime show procedurals. Ithan's eyes flashed again. "I'm sensing hostility and a good dose of male pride," Bryce said. "Throw in some stubbornness and I'd say we've got a classic case of stupidity," Hunt answered. "What the fuck is wrong with you two?" Ithan demanded.

Our love is stronger than time, greater than distance. Our love spans across stars and worlds. I will find you again. I promise.

Bryce was too fast, even for him, as she leapt in front of the blow, Starsword extended. A wild theory, only half-formed, but— Hunt’s lightning hit the Starsword, and the world erupted.

Declan said, "Can we pause for a moment and remark on the fact that both of you have spoken to the Prince of the Pit? Is no one else about to puke at the thought?" Ruhn held up a hand, and Tharion lazily lifted one from the bench, but Bryce high-fived Hunt. "Special kids club," she said to the angel, who winked at her.

Fry this fucker,” Bryce muttered to Hunt as the dog snarled. “I’m assessing.” “Assess faster. Roast it like a—” “Do not make a joke about—” “Hot dog.

Bryce barely heard the woman as she nodded. Barely heard anything beyond Hunt's lingering words. I've got you. Her fingers curled around his. She let her eyes tell him everything her ravaged throat couldn't. I've got you, too.

Come on,' he repeated, pumping her chest again with his hands. 'I'm waiting for you.' He'd been waiting for her from the moment he'd been born. And as if she'd heard him, Bryce exploded into life.

He said after a while, "You traded your resting place in the Bone Quarter for Danika's." "Given what happens to everyone over there, I feel kind of relieved about that now." "Yeah." He took one of her hands in his and laid their interlaced fingers atop his heart. "But wherever you're headed when this life is over, Quinlan, that's where I want to be, too.

Hunt hissed to Bryce through his gritted teeth, thunder cracking above him, "I heard what you said." Pump, pump, pump went his powerful arms. "What you waited to admit until I was almost dead, you fucking coward." His lightning surged into her, sending her body off the ground as he tried to jump-start her heart. He snarled in her ear, "Now come say it to my face.

It'd be safer not to go at all, but here we are, going," Hunt said. Ruhn wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself as the angel crossed the room and knelt before Bryce, grabbing her hands. "I want a future with you. That's why I'm going. I'm going to fight for that future." His sister's eyes softened. Hunt kissed her hands. "And to do so, we can't play by other people's rules.

It's almost out," the witch hissed, grunting with effort. "Hang on, Bryce." She did. To Hunt, to his hand, to that softness in his eyes, she held on. With all she had. "I've got you," he murmured. "Sweetheart, I've got you." He'd never said it like that before- that word. It had always been mocking, teasing. She'd always found it just this side of annoying. Not this time. Not when he held her hand and her gaze and everything she was. Riding out the pain with her. "Breathe," he ordered her. "You can do it. We can get through this." Get through it- together. Get through this mess of a life together. Through this mess of a world.

I've got you,' he murmured. 'Sweetheart, I've got you.

...I realised all this was the wrong path. But you and me, Bryce... You are where I want to end up. A life- with you. You are my fucking path.

Bryce explained everything again, and Hunt couldn't keep himself from tugging her closer. When she finished, Ruhn echoed Hunt's words. "We got lucky tonight. You got lucky tonight." Bryce winked at Hunt. "And I plan to get lucky again." "Gross," Ruhn said as Declan snickered.

He knows we’re a team.” “A team,” Hunt said slowly. As if out of everything she’d laid out, that was what he chose to dwell on. “You know what I mean,” Bryce said. “I’m not sure I do.” Had his voice dropped lower? “We’re roomies,” she said, her own voice getting breathy. “Roomies.” “Occasional Beer Pong Champions?” Hunt snatched the hat off her head and plunked it back on his own, backward as usual. “Yes, the Autumn King truly fears our unholy beer pong alliance.

Does it matter now?” Flynn asked. “I mean, no offense, but Danika’s gone.” Bryce gave him a flat look. “Really? I had no idea.” Flynn flipped her off, and the sprites ooohed at his shoulder. Bryce rolled her eyes. Exactly what Flynn needed: his own flock of cheerleaders trailing him at all hours. She said to Flynn, “Hey, remember that time you set a dragon free and we’re dumb enough to think she’d follow your orders?” “Hey, remember that time you wanted to marry me and wrote Lady Bryce Flynn in all your notebooks?” Hunt choked. Bryce countered with, “Hey, remember when you pestered me for years to hook up with you, but I have something called standards—” “This is highly unusual behavior for royals,” Hypaxia observed. “You have no idea,” Ruhn muttered, earning a smile from the queen.

What sort of an afterward for you and me do you have in mind, Athalar?' He didn't balk from her searching gaze. 'The good kind,' he said with equal quiet.

Hunt's fingers stroked over her brow. 'I thought to myself, There's someone I want guarding my back. There's a friend I'd live to have. I think I gave you such a hard time when we met up again because... because some part of me knew that, and was afraid of what it'd mean.

Why,' she asked Bryce, 'is Hunt Athalar your roommate?' 'He was booted from the 33rd for his questionable fashion sense,' she said munching on the croissant. 'I told him his boring black clothes don't bother me, and let him stay here.

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.

Ruhn said to her, “I asked you to come. Not him.” Bryce linked her arm through Athalar’s, the portrait they painted laughable: Bryce in her fancy work dress and heels, the angel in his black battle-suit. “We’re joined at the hip now, unfortunately for you. Best, best friends.” “The best,” Hunt echoed, his grin unfading.

Hunt.' The entire world went quiet. 'I was waiting for you.' 'Bryce, sweetheart, just get back to your apartment and give me an hour and-' 'No,' she whispered, closing her eyes. She put her hand on her chest. Over her heart. 'I was waiting for you- in here.' Hunt couldn't stop his own tears then. 'I was waiting for you, too.

Boyfriend sounds weird for you. It's so... young. But what else is there?' If he had a star on his chest, Hunt knew it'd be glowing as he asked. 'Partner?' 'Not sexy enough.' 'Lover?' 'Does that come with a ruff and a lute?' He swept a wing over her bare thigh. 'Anyone ever tell you that you're a pain in the ass?' 'Just ye olde lover.

Hunt leaned forward putting his cool brow against hers. 'I've known who you were this whole time. I never forgot you.

I'd think cuddling in front of the TV allowed me to at least be able to voice my opinions without getting my head bitten off.

Want to come play Scary Asshole with me?' Despite everything, despite the Asteri's watching and all that had occurred, Bryce smiled. 'I have just the outfit.

I've never stopped wanting it- wanting you. I thought it was obvious.

I can't do this without you, Hunt.' He said softly, 'I know. I'm just... Fuck, Quinlan. The thought of anything happening to you scares the shit out of me.

I don't need a male telling me when to eat.' 'How about a friend telling you that you had an understandably rough night, and you get mean as shit when you're hungry?

and though she knew there was work to do to heal Midgard, the world was out there. Life was out there. So Bryce and Hunt ran out to live it. Together.

I love you. You're crazy and shady as all Hel, but I love you.

Look at you,' he breathed. 'Bryce.' 'Look at us,' she whispered, and lifted up to kiss him.

Don't worry about that shit. We focus on the now, then deal with everything else afterward.

I'm sorry I dumped my baggage in your lap.' A corner of his mouth turned up. 'You can dump your baggage in my lap anytime, Quinlan.' She snorted, shaking her head. 'You made it sound gross.' 'You said it first.

if the cost of uniting the sword and knife is too much, Bryce Quinlan, then don’t do it. Choose life.” He glanced to Hunt. “Choose each other. I have lived with the alternative for millennia—the loss never gets easier to bear.

Stop cursing so much. You're upsetting Syrinx.' He leaned close enough to note gold flecks in her amber eyes. 'You have the dirtiest mouth I've ever heard, sweetheart. And from the way you act, I think you might be the alphahole here.

Bryce had developed a keen awareness of Hunt’s presence, like scenting lightning on the wind. He had only to enter a room and she’d know if he was there by that surge of power in her body. Like her magic, her very blood answered to his.

I love you. I wish I'd said it more. But I love you, Quinlan, and...' His throat closed up, his eyes stinging. His lips brushed her brow. 'Our love is stronger than time, greater than any distance. Our love spans across stars and worlds. I will find you again. I promise.

All right, it's a beach. I'm just messing with you." "It would be funnier if we hadn't spent the last two days trying to hunt down the glitch." "Did you find it?" "Yes. The software seems to be submitting fake bug reports. Try to be serious." "Try to not call me 'the software.

Azriel said nothing, face impassive. Fine. Sighing, Bryce surveyed the carvings on the floor. Whorls and faces and— The hair on her arms rose. “These are Midgard’s constellations.” Bryce pointed to a cluster. “That’s the Great Ladle. And that … that’s Orion. The hunter.” Hunt. Her Hunt.

She wasn’t a monster. Was she? Maybe she’d regret it. She knew Hunt would have yelled at her for setting a trap only to go help the people she’d ensnared. But Bryce began running again, hurtling through the cave. Back toward Nesta and Azriel. And prayed there was something left for her to save.

Azriel struck before she could exhale. Searing, sharp power, a bolt of blue right into her star. Bryce bent over, coughing, breathing around the burn, the alien strangeness of the power. “Are you all right?” Nesta asked with something like concern. Was it his power? Or something about this world? Even Hunt’s hadn’t felt like this—so undiluted, like one-hundred-proof liquor. Bryce closed her eyes and counted to ten, breathing hard. Letting it ease into her blood. Her bones. It tingled along her limbs. Slowly, she straightened, opening her eyes. From the way the others’ faces were illuminated, she knew her gaze had turned incandescent.

Hey, remember that time you set a dragon free and were dumb enough to think she'd follow your orders?' 'Hey, remember that time you wanted to marry me and wrote Lady Bryce Flynn in all your notebooks?' Hunt choked. Bryce countered with, 'Hey, remember when you pestered me for years to hook up with you, but I have something called standards-

Is that coffee?” Hunt busied himself with pouring three cups, passing one to Quinlan first. “A drop of coffee in a cup of milk, just as you like it.” “Asshole.” She swiped the mug. “I don’t know how you drink it straight.” “Because I’m a grown-up.” Hunt passed the second mug to Ithan, whose large hands engulfed the white ceramic cup that said I Survived Class of 15032 Senior Week and All I Got Was This Stupid Mug! Ithan peered at it, his mouth twitching. “I remember this mug.” Hunt fell silent as Bryce let out a breathy laugh. “I’m surprised you do, given how drunk you were. Even though you were a sweet baby frosh.” Ithan chuckled, a hint of the handsome, cocky male Hunt had heard about. “You and Danika had me doing keg stands at ten in the morning. How was I supposed to stay sober?” The wolf sipped from his coffee. “My last memory from that day is of you and Danika passed out drunk on a couch you’d moved right into the middle of the quad.” “And why was that your last memory?” Bryce asked sweetly. “Because I was passed out next to you,” Ithan said, grinning now.

You know what Bryce would do to me if you wound up dead? I'd never get to fondle her underwear again.' Ithan gaped at him. Then burst out laughing. It was a rich sound, a little hoarse- like he hadn't done it in a while. 'I'm surprised Athalar lets you live.' 'You know what Bryce would do to Hunt if I wound up dead?' Tharion grinned. 'My sweet Legs has my back.

Hunt hissed to Bryce through his gritted teeth, thunder cracking above him, 'I heard what you said.' Pump, pump, pump went his powerful arms. 'What you waited to admit until I was almost dead, you fucking coward.' His lightning surged into her, sending her body arcing off the ground as he tried to jump-start her heard. He snarled in her ear. 'Now come say it to my face.

You said you love me.' 'And?' She cocked an eyebrow. Hunt's mouth twitched upward. 'It was said under duress.' She bit her lip. He wanted to plant his teeth there. 'Are you asking whether I meant it, or do you think you're that good with your mouth that I went out of my mind?' He flicked her nose. 'Smart-ass.' She flopped back onto the mattress. 'They're both true.

What happened when Mordoc visited Danika?” Bryce asked. “It didn’t go well. He came back to Sandriel’s castle…” Baxian said to Hunt, “Remember that time he ate that human couple?” Bryce choked. “He what?” Hunt said roughly, “Yeah.” “That was when he’d returned from the visit to the Den,” Baxian explained. “He was in such a rage that he went out and killed a human couple he found on the street.

This wasn't supposed to happen- between us,' she whispered. 'I know,' he said, kissing her shaking fingers again. He gently unfurled them, exposing the heart of her palm. He pressed his mouth there, too. 'But thank fucking Urd it did.' Her hands stopped shaking. Hunt lifted his eyes from her hand to find her own lined with silver- and full of fire. He interlaced their fingers. 'For fuck's sake, just kiss me, Quinlan.

Allow me to introduce my shepherd,” The Under-King said from the mist ahead, standing beside a ten-foot-tall black dog. Each of its fangs were as long as one of her fingers. All hooked—like a shark’s. Designed to latch into flesh and hold tight while it ripped and shredded. Its eyes were milky white—sightless. Identical to the Under-King’s. Her light would have no effect on something that was already blind. The dog’s fur—sleek and iridescent enough that it almost resembled scales—flowed over bulky, bunched muscles. Claws like razor blades sliced into the dry ground. Hunt’s lightning crackled, skittering at Bryce’s feet. “That’s a demon,” he ground out. He’d fought enough of them to know. “An experiment of the Prince of the Ravine’s, from the First Wars,” the Under-King rasped. “Forgotten and abandoned here in Midgard during the aftermath. Now my faithful companion and helper. You’d be surprised how many souls do not wish to make their final offering to the Gate. The Shepherd…Well, it herds them for me. As it shall herd you.” “Fry this fucker,” Bryce muttered to Hunt as the dog snarled. “I’m assessing.” “Assess faster. Roast it like a—” “Do not make a joke about—” “Hot dog.” Bryce had no sooner finished saying the words than the hound lunged. Hunt struck, swift and sure, a lightning bolt spearing toward its neck.

He knows we're a team.' 'A team,' Hunt said slowly. As if, out of everything she'd laid out, that was what he chose to dwell on. 'You know what I mean,' Bryce said. 'I'm not sure I do.' Had his voice dropped lower? 'We're roomies,' she said, her own voice getting breathy. 'Roomies.' 'Occasional Beer Pong Champions?' Hunt snatched the hat off her head and plunked it back on his own, backward as usual. 'Yes, the Autumn King truly fears our unholy beer pong alliance.

Only Aidas remained, seeming to cling to the connection as he spoke to Bryce, his blue eyes intense on her face. “If you find that final piece of Theia’s power … if the cost of uniting the sword and knife is too much, Bryce Quinlan, then don’t do it. Choose life.” He glanced to Hunt. “Choose each other. I have lived with the alternative for millennia—the loss never gets easier to bear.” Bryce reached a ghostly hand toward Aidas, but the Prince of the Chasm was gone. And all of Hel with him.

Bryce glanced to Nesta, who was watching warily. So Bryce reached into her jacket and pulled out the Mask. “Here. As promised.” Everyone fell silent. And then Bryce drew Truth-Teller and Cassian looked like he’d jump between her and Nesta. Hunt set his feet into a fighting stance in response, but Bryce just said, “Alphaholes,” and laid the dagger on the table between their tea set and treats. “You brought them back.” Nesta’s voice was quiet. “Did you think I wouldn’t?” “I don’t know what I thought,” Nesta said, smiling slightly.

There are thirty-six photos on your four-year-old phone, and all of them are of dismembered bodies,' she said. Someone gasped across the store. Hunt gritted his teeth. 'Say it a little louder, Quinlan.' She frowned. 'You never take any others?' 'Of what?' 'Oh, I don't know- of life? A pretty flower or good meal or something?' 'What's the point?' She blinked, then shook her head. 'Weirdo.' And before he could stop her, she'd angled his phone in front of her, beamed from ear to ear, and snapped a photo of herself before she handed it back to him. 'There. One non-corpse photo.

You said you had an eight-pointed star tattooed on you,” Bryce explained. “And you found the chamber with the eight-pointed star in the Prison, too.” Nesta lifted her head. “So?” “So I want you to take the Starsword.” Bryce held the blade between them. “Gwydion—whatever you call it here. The age of the Starborn is over on Midgard. It ends with me.” “I don’t understand.” But Bryce began backing toward the portal, taking Hunt’s hand, and smiled again at the female, at her mate, at their world, as the Northern Rift began to close. “I think that eight-pointed star was tattooed on you for a reason. Take that sword and go figure out why.

Bryce held her stare. Clearly, they didn’t want her dead, if they’d sent someone to retrieve her, not hunt her down. But if she returned to that cell, how long would they keep her there? Even hours could make a difference for Hunt and Ruhn— “I’m always up for a day of discovery,” Bryce said. Then she erupted with light. Nesta cursed, but Bryce didn’t wait to see if the light had blinded her before bolting down the passage. Without any weapons, a running head start was her best chance of making it. A force like a stone wall hit her from behind. The world tilted, her breath rushing from her as she collided with the stone ground, bones barking in pain. Shadows had wrapped around her, pinning her, and she thrashed, kicking and swatting at them.

Hunt opened his mouth, his last bit of bravado before the shitshow began, but in the shadows behind Pollux, beyond the fireplace, something dark moved. Something darker than shadow. Not Ruhn’s shadows. The prince didn’t seem to be able to access those when constrained by the gorsian shackles. Only the prince’s mind-speaking abilities remained. This shadow was different—darker, older. Watching them. Watching Hunt. Hallucinations: Bad, because it meant he had some infection that even his immortal body couldn’t fight off. Good, because it meant he might quietly slip away into death’s embrace. Bad, because it meant the Asteri might turn their attention fully to Bryce. Good, because the pain would be gone. Bad, because he still held out some stupid, fool’s hope deep in his heart of seeing her again. Good, because Bryce wouldn’t come looking for him if he was dead. Across the room, the thing in the shadows moved. Just slightly. Like it had crooked a finger at him. Death. That was the thing in the shadows. And now it beckoned.

The Middengard Wyrm had arrived at last. Precisely according to Bryce’s plan. She’d been dripping blood for it all this way, leaving a trail, constantly scraping off her scabs to reopen her wounds—ones she’d intentionally inflicted on herself by “falling” into the stream. If the Wyrm relied on scent to hunt, then she’d left a veritable neon sign leading right to them. She hadn’t known when or how it would attack, but she’d been waiting. And she was ready. Bryce fell back as not only shadows, but blue light flared from Azriel—right alongside the ripple of silver flame from Nesta. Back-to-back, they faced the massive creature with razor-sharp focus. Ataraxia gleamed in Nesta’s hand. Truth-Teller pulsed with darkness in Azriel’s. Now or never. Her legs tensed, readying to sprint. Nesta’s eyes slid to Bryce’s for a heartbeat. As if understanding at last: Bryce’s “unhealing” hand. The blood she’d wiped on the walls. Her musing about the linked river system in these caves, sussing out what they knew regarding the terrain and the Wyrm. To unleash this thing—on them. “I’m sorry,” Bryce said to her. And ran.

You’ve known Bryce for what—a few months? We were friends for five years. So don’t fucking talk about me, my brother, or her as if you know anything about us. You don’t know shit, Umbra Mortis.” “I know you were a dick to her for two years. I watched you stand by while Amelie Ravenscroft tormented her. Grow the fuck up.” Ithan barred his teeth. Hunt barred his own right back. Syrinx hopped to his feet and whined, demanding more food. Hunt couldn’t help his exasperated laugh. “Fine, fine,” he said to the chimera, reaching for the container of kibble. Ithan’s eyes burned him like a brand. Hunt had seen that same take-no-shit face during televised sunball games. “Connor was in love with her for those five years, you know.” The wolf headed over to the couch and plopped onto the cushions. “Five years, and by the end of it, he’d only managed to get her to agree to go on a date with him.” Hunt kept his face unreadable as Syrinx devoured his second—potentially third—breakfast. “So?” Ithan turned on the morning news before propping his feet on the coffee table and interlacing his hands behind his head. “You’re at month five, bro. Good luck to you.

Rhysand mastered himself, a cool mask sliding into place. “You live in such a world.” It wasn’t entirely a question. But Bryce nodded. “Yes.” “And they want to bring all of that … here.” “Yes.” Rhysand stared ahead. Thinking it through. Azriel just kept his eyes on the space where the orb had displayed the utter destruction of her world. Dreading—and yet calculating. She’d seen that look before on Hunt’s face. A warrior’s mind at work. Amren turned to Rhys, meeting his stare. Bryce knew that look, too. A silent conversation passing between them. As Bryce and Ruhn had often spoken. Her heart wrenched to see it, to remember. It steadied her, though. Sharpened her focus. The Asteri had been here—under a different name, but they’d been here. The ancestors of these Fae had defeated them. And Urd had sent her here—here, not Hel. Here, where she’d instantly encountered a dagger that made the Starsword sing. Like it had been the lodestone that had drawn her to this world, to that riverbank. Could it really be the knife from the prophecy? She’d believed that destroying the Asteri would be as simple as obliterating that firstlight core, yet Urd had sent her here.

Ember at last pulled away from Nesta. But she gently put a hand to the female’s cheek and whispered, “You’ll find your way,” before walking to the portal. Bryce could have sworn there were tears in Nesta’s eyes as her mother stepped back into Midgard. But those tears were gone when Nesta met Bryce’s stare. And Cassian, like any good mate, sensed when he wasn’t wanted, and walked over to the fireplace to pretend to read some sort of old-looking manuscript. Bryce knew that, also like any good mate, if she made one wrong move, he’d rip her to shreds. Which was precisely why Hunt had come back into the room, and was watching Nesta carefully. “Alphaholes,” Nesta echoed, eyes gleaming with amusement. Bryce chuckled and drew the Starsword. Again, Cassian tensed, but Bryce just offered it to Nesta. The female took it, blinking. “You said you had an eight-pointed star tattooed on you,” Bryce explained. “And you found the chamber with the eight-pointed star in the Prison, too.” Nesta lifted her head. “So?” “So I want you to take the Starsword.” Bryce held the blade between them. “Gwydion—whatever you call it here. The age of the Starborn is over on Midgard. It ends with me.” “I don’t understand.” But Bryce began backing toward the portal, taking Hunt’s hand, and smiled again at the female, at her mate, at their world, as the Northern Rift began to close. “I think that the eight-pointed star was tattooed on you for a reason. Take that sword and go figure out why.

Although Bryce’s body still buzzed with all she and Hunt had done, seeing that slender female body on the table, the prince kneeling, head bowed…Her eyes stung. Hunt’s fingers found hers and squeezed. “I knew,” Cormac said roughly. His first words in minutes. “I think I always knew, but…” Ruhn stepped to his cousin’s side. Put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Cormac leaned his brow against the rim of the examination table. His voice shook. “She was good, and brave, and kind. I never deserved her, not for one minute.” Bryce’s throat ached. She let go of Hunt’s hand to approach Cormac, touching his other shoulder. Where would Sofie’s soul go? Did it linger near her body until they could give her a proper Sailing? If she went to one of the resting places, they’d be dooming her to a terrible fate. But Bryce didn’t say any of that. Not as Cormac slid his fingers beneath the black cloth and pulled out a blue-tinged, stiff hand. He clasped it in his own, kissing the dead fingers. His shoulders began to shake as his tears flowed. “We met during a recon report to Command,” Cormac said, voice breaking. “And I knew it was foolish, and reckless, but I had to speak to her after the meeting was over.” He kissed Sofie’s hand again, closing his eyes. “I should have gone back for her that night.” Tharion, who’d been poring over the corner’s files on Sofie at the desk by the far wall, said gently, “I’m sorry if I gave you false hope.” “It kept her alive in my heart a little longer,” Cormac said, swallowing back his tears. He pressed her stiff hand against his brow. “My Sofie.

They found Tharion on the couch with Ithan, the tv blasting the latest sports stats. Tharion munched on a piece of pizza, long legs sprawled out in front of him, bare feet on the coffee table. Ruhn might have stepped inside to grab a piece of that pizza had Bryce not gone still. A Fae sort of stillness, sizing up a threat. His instinct went to high alert, bellowing at him to defend, to attack, to slaughter any threat to his family. Ruhn suppressed it, held back by the shadows begging to be unleashed, to hide Bryce from sight. Ithan called over to them, “Pizza’s on the counter if you want some.” Bryce remained silent as fear washed over her scent. Ruhn’s fingers grazed the cool metal of the gun strapped to his thigh. “Your cat’s a sweetheart, by the way,” Ithan went on, not taking his focus from the TV as he stroked the white cat curled on his lap. Bryce slowly shut the door behind her. “He scared the shit out of me when he leapt onto the counter a few minutes ago, the bastard.” The wolf ran his fingers through the luxurious coat, earning a deep purr in response. The cat had stunning blue eyes. They seemed keenly aware as they fixed on Bryce. Ruhn’s shadows gathered at his shoulders, snakes waiting to strike. He subtly drew his gun. Behind her, a familiar ripple of ether-laced power kissed over her skin. A small reassurance as Bryce croaked, “That’s not a cat.” Hunt arrived at the apartment just in time to hear Bryce’s words through the shut front door. He was inside in a moment, lightning gathered at his fingers. “Oh, calm yourself,” the Prince of the Chasm said, leaping into the coffee table.

Where is Bryce?” hissed the Prince of the Chasm. “She went to find you.” Hunt’s voice broke. Beside him, Ruhn groaned, stirring. “She went to fucking find you, Aidas.” The Princes of Hel looked at each other, some wordless conversation passing between them. Hunt pushed, “You two told her to find you. Fed us all that bullshit about armies and wanting to help and getting her ready—” “Is it possible,” Aidas said to his brother, ignoring Hunt entirely, “after everything …?” “Don’t fall into romanticism,” Apollion cautioned. “The star might have guided her,” Aidas countered. “Please,” Hunt cut in, not caring if he was begging. “Tell me where she is.” Baxian grunted, rising to consciousness. Aidas said quietly, “I have a suspicion, but I can’t tell you, Athalar, lest Rigelus wring it from you. Though he has likely already arrived at the same conclusion.” “Fuck you,” Hunt spat. But Apollion said to his brother, “We must leave.” “Then what was the point of all this watching me from the shadows?” Hunt demanded. “To ensure that we can continue to rely on you when the time comes.” “To do what?” Hunt ground out. “What you were born to do—to accomplish the task for which your father brought you into existence,” Apollion said before fading into nothing, leaving Aidas standing alone before the prisoners. Shock reared up in Hunt, dampened by the weight of an old, unbidden hurt. “I have no father.” Aidas’s expression was sad as he stepped out of the shadows. “You spent too long asking the wrong questions.” “What the fuck does that mean?” Aidas shook his head. “The black crown once again circling your brow is not a new torment from the Asteri. It has existed for millennia.” “Tell me the fucking truth for once—” “Stay alive, Athalar.” The Prince of the Chasm followed his brother, vanishing into darkness and embers.

You were also at the Black Dock this morning.” “Are you asking if I’m spying on you?” “Either that or you desperately want in on the cool kids’ club.” “A good spy would tell you no, and say you’re being paranoid.” “But you’re…not a good spy?” “I’m not a spy at all, and you’re being paranoid.” Bryce rolled her eyes, and Hunt smiled to himself as she walked to the door, making it shut behind Baxian. As she closed the door, he heard her say to the Hellhound, “You’re going to fit right in around here.

Para Hunt, sólo existía Bryce, sangrando y herida. Bryce, quien se había lanzado tan valientemente por la espada, probablemente pensando que era su única oportunidad. Bryce, quien se había puesto de pie de todas maneras y planeaba morir peleando. Bryce, su pareja. Los tres mastines se volvieron a convertir en uno. En preparación para el golpe mortal. Hunt aterrizó en el suelo junto a ella y aulló con tal fuerza que la Puerta misma se sacudió.

Bryce miró los ojos ardientes de Hunt con el pecho agitado y la cabeza convertida en un desorden de estrellas. Dijo lo único que tenía en la cabeza, en la mente y en el alma. —Te amo.

Pero Hunt la tomó de los dedos y volvió a ponerle la mano sobre su corazón. —¿Qué te parecería pareja? Bryce se quedó inmóvil y Hunt contuvo el aliento. Se preguntó si habría dicho algo equivocado. Como ella seguía sin decir nada, él continuó: —¿Las hadas tienen parejas, no? Ése es el término que usan. —Las parejas son... algo intenso para las hadas —tragó saliva—. Es un compromiso de por vida. Un juramento entre cuerpos y corazones y almas. Es una unión de seres. Si tú dices que eres mi pareja frente a cualquier otra hada, lo entenderán como algo muy importante. —¿Y nosotros no significamos algo muy importante? — preguntó él con cautela, con la respiración contenida. Ella tenía su corazón en sus manos. Lo había tenido desde el primer día. —Tú lo eres todo para mí.

Bryce resopló. —Yo soy una mujer independiente. —Está bien —dijo Hunt con una risa suave—. Digamos entonces que yo soy como una especie de ficha mágica en un videojuego y, cuando me... usas, subes de nivel. —Eso es lo más nerd que has dicho jamás —lo acusó Bryce y Hunt le hizo una reverencia.

Bryce tomó a Hunt de la mano. La presionó contra su pecho. —Súbeme de nivel, Athalar.

Bryce no se dio cuenta, hasta que iba subiendo los escalones hacia los archivos, que todavía estaba sonriendo. Que todos los pensamientos sobre el almuerzo se habían desvanecido. Hunt había hecho eso por ella. Nunca dejaría de agradecérselo... de agradecer tenerlo a él. El corazón de Bryce se encogió y algo más brillante que la luzastral le llenó las venas. Permaneció brillando en su interior, resplandeciente y secreto, el resto del día.

You know what?” Bryce said. “Who cares about any of them? My father, the Avallen Fae—screw them.” Only with Hunt could she be dismissive about this. He’d have her back, no matter what. “At least, until we get my parents onto that train.” “You still haven’t given me a convincing plan for how that will happen. For all we know, they’re learning about this on the news.” “Oh, my phone would already be exploding if my mother had heard.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe I should ask Fury to sneak into their hotel and disable their phones.” “Is it bad if I think she should go one step further and tie them up, throw them in the trunk of a car, and drive them home so they get there before the news breaks? Because that’s what Fury will likely do if you send her to that hotel.” Bryce laughed, and the sound sang through her like silver bells. “Okay, no Fury.” She looped her arm through Hunt’s, savoring the muscled mass of him as she steered them toward the low gate and sidewalk beyond. “Let’s watch old episodes of Beach House Hookeup and come up with ways to trick my parents.” One of his wings brushed along her back in the softest caresses. Every inch it touched lit up like firstlight. “Sounds like a normal Tuesday night.” They meandered home, and despite Bryce’s flippant words, she found herself slipping into a state of roiling darkness and thoughts like shooting stars.

We can guess all night,” Bryce said, mastering herself. “But until you have that meeting tomorrow, Hunt, we won’t know. Just go in there with an open mind.” “You mean, don’t start a fight.” His mouth twitched to the side. Fury snickered. Bryce put a hand on her hip. “I mean, don’t go in there playing Scary Asshole. Maybe try for an Approachable Asshole vibe.” Juniper laughed at that, and Hunt chuckled as well. Unable to stop himself from knocking Bryce with a wing for the second time that night, he promised, “Approachable Asshole it is, Quinlan.

The sword’s as much yours as it is mine.” Bryce waved a hand. “I’ll take it on weekends and holidays, don’t worry.” Hunt tossed in, “And it’ll get two Winter Solstices, so… double the presents.

I was really enjoying this summer, you know. Today seems Hel-bent on ruining it for both of us.” Hunt ducked his head. “You’d almost think this was planned by the gods. They probably have a special task force: How to Fuck Over Bryce and Hunt in One Day.

You’re going to teach me how to do that. Teleport.” Hunt whipped his head to her. But Cormac simply nodded. “If it’s within your wheelhouse, I will.” Hunt blurted, “I’m sorry, but Fae can just do this shit?” “I can do this shit,” Cormac countered. “If Bryce has as much Starborn ability as she seems to, she might also be able to do this shit.” “Why?” “Because I’m the Supet Powerful and Special Magic Starborn Princess,” Bryce answered, waggling her eyebrows. Cormac said, “You should treat your title and gifts with the reverence they are due.” “You sound like a Reaper.

—¿Sabes cómo se ve Hunt Athalar? —Considerando que está viviendo en la azotea enfrente de mi departamento, diría que sí. Lehabah presionó el botón de pausa en su programa y recargó la cabeza contra el respaldo de su silloncito. —Es hermoso. —Sí, pregúntale a él. Bryce cerró el correo que había estado leyendo, uno de unos cien que había intercambiado con Tertian, y el primero en el que él se le había un poco. —Hunt es suficientemente apuesto como para salir en este programa —dijo Lehabah y señaló con uno de los dedos de su pie hacia la tableta frente a ella. —Por desgracia, no creo que las diferencias de tamaño entre tú y Athalar permitieran que eso funcionara en la cama. Tú apenas tienes el tamaño para abrazarle el pene. Lehabah soltó una nubecilla de humo por la vergüenza. La duendecilla ondeó la mano para despejarla. —¡BB!

—Nos peleamos en una fiesta. Danaan todavía está resentido. La sonrisa de Bryce era la definición de una sonrisa de satisfacción. —¿Por qué pelearon? Ruhn dijo con brusquedad: —Porque él es un pendejo arrogante. —Igual—dijo Hunt y su boca se curvó para formar una media sonrisa. Bryce miró a Lehabah. —Los chicos y su competitividad. Lehabah emitió un sonidito muy propio. —Ni de cerca tan avanzados como nosotras. Ruhn puso los ojos en blanco y se sorprendió de ver que Athalar hacía lo mismo.

¿Cuántos hombres habían huido de esta parte de ella, sus egos de alfadejos amenazados? Hunt los odió a todos por siquiera provocar esa pregunta en la mirada de Bryce. No escuchó lo que fuera que estuviera diciendo Flynn cuando se puso las orejeras y los lentes y tomó el rifle que ella acababa de dejar y cuyo metal seguía tibio por el contacto de su cuerpo. No escuchó a Ruhn preguntándole algo mientras se preparaba para disparar. No, Hunt miró a Bryce a los ojos y liberó el seguro. El sonido vibró entre ambos, fuerte como un trueno. Él tragó saliva. Hunt apartó su mirada de la de ella y disparó una vez. Con su vista de águila, no necesitaba la mirilla para ver que la bala había pasado por el agujero que había hecho ella. Cuando bajó el arma, vio que Bryce tenía las mejillas sonrojadas y los ojos como whiskey tibio. Brillaban con una especie de luz silenciosa. Todavía no escuchaba nada de lo que estaban diciendo los demás hombres, sólo tenía una ligera noción de que Ruhn estaba maldiciendo con admiración. Hunt le sostuvo la mirada a Bryce.

Antes de que Hunt pudiera responder, Bryce se acercó a la celda de Pollux. Pollux se esforzó por hacer un espectáculo de mirarla desde la cabeza hasta la punta de sus zapatos de tacón. —Pensé que las de tu calaña por lo general trabajaban en el turno de la noche. Bryce rio. —¿Tienes algún otro insulto anticuado que lanzarme? Ante el silencio de Pollux, Bryce continuó: —El trabajo sexual es una profesión respetable en Ciudad Medialuna. No es mi culpa que Pangera no se haya puesto al corriente con los tiempos modernos. Pollux desbordaba malicia. —Micah debería haberte matado y santo remedio. Ella hizo brillar sus ojos, que él pudiera notar que sabía todo lo que le había hecho a Hunt, cuánto lo detestaba. —¿Eso es lo mejor que se te ocurre decir? ¿No se suponía que el Martillo era una especie de estrella del sadismo? —Y yo pensaba que las putas mestizas se suponía que mantenían la boca cerrada. Por fortuna, sé perfectamente qué meterte en esa bocota para que te calles. Bryce le guiñó con picardía. —Cuidado. Uso los dientes.

—Puedo buscarla por mi cuenta. Tharion sonrió incrédulo. —No mientras estés atrapado aquí abajo. Los ojos de Ithan se abrieron como platos. —¿En serio? ¿Me apresarías? —Por tu propia seguridad, sí. ¿Sabes qué me haría Bryce si tú aparecieras muerto? Nunca volvería a tocar su ropa interior. Ithan se quedó viéndolo con la boca abierta. Luego soltó una carcajada. Era un sonido profundo y algo ronco, como si no lo hubiera producido en mucho tiempo. —Me sorprende que Athalar te permita seguir vivo. —¿Sabes qué le haría Bryce a Hunt si yo apareciera muerto? —Tharion sonrió—. Mi dulce Piernas me apoya. —¿Por qué la llamas así? —preguntó Ithan con cautela. Tharion volvió a encogerse de hombros. —¿En verdad quieres que te responda eso? —No. Tharion sonrió.

I’m sorry,” Hunt cut in, “but what the fuck?” His wings splayed. “You’re now officially a princess?” Bryce winced. “Surprise?