The poison daughter

I glare at him. “You suggesting I can’t handle myself?”

“I’m suggesting you’re a bit distracted.”

I frown. “By what?”

“By your pretty fiancée, though I think it’s more than her beauty that has you ruffled.”

I cross my arms. It felt wrong to tell my parents what I noticed, not out of some sense of loyalty to her but more out of not knowing what to make of it. But Bryce and Carter are different. They’ve survived the same crucible, been forged by the same fires.

“What happened in the woods?” Carter asks.

“She was afraid, but also—” I swirl the liquid in my glass.

“But also…” Bryce prompts.

I glance around the bar, but no one is paying us any mind. “But she stayed focused and precise. The shock didn’t hit her until we were out of harm’s way.”

Carter’s brows shoot up. “So your city girl has seen some things?”

I nod. “I suspect she has. Back in Lunameade, her father sliced her arm to have me prove my ability and she didn’t so much as flinch—and that was not a scratch. Then she was wounded in the fight in the woods—claws in her shoulder, a broken wrist—and said nothing.” I scrub a hand over my face.

Carter’s jaw drops. “She’s got you.”

I balk. “She does not. I can tell that these things have slipped out when she didn’t mean them to.”

Carter leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “So you’re telling me this woman who casually fought off the Drained, who tried to murder you twice already, who curates an appearance designed to entice and trick men, has accidentally let things slip to you?”

When he puts it like that, I doubt myself, but I know what I saw on her face, what I felt from her in those moments.

“He’s fucked.” Bryce laughs and pours some more whiskey into my glass.

I rub the back of my neck. “I’m fine. Nothing has changed. I just think there’s more to uncover with her.”

Bryce waggles his eyebrows. “Sure is. Just a few more days until you get to uncover all of her.”

I shake my head. “You better stand at the back of the crowd at the wedding ritual. I’m not listening to you make cracks about my wife’s tits for the rest of my life.”

Bryce’s grin widens. “I make no promises.”

Naima wanders over to our booth with a tray in her hand. “Making no promises is a wise choice for you. I’ve heard more than enough about how you’re going to someday pay your tab.”

“Naima, you wound me.” Bryce clutches at his chest. “You know I’m good for it.”

A smile lights in her eyes as she gathers our empty glasses on her tray and kisses Carter on the cheek. “I know you’re good for nothing but trouble. Keep an eye on my love tonight. You know how those brutes can be when someone is breaking up their fun.”

Since Naima and Carter are in a monogamous relationship, Carter often opts to police hunt night and make sure that everyone is abiding by the rules that keep participants safe. Most people have no issue following them to the letter, fearing Ke

“What about you, Hen? Are you on guard duty, or will you be indulging?” Naima asks, absently ru

“Last chance before I’m a married man—not to mention I’ve been away too long to skip it,” I say.

Naima smiles warmly, her light brown eyes bright with mischief. “Carter tells me your wife is feisty. I think she’ll be good for you.”

“It’s not that kind of match. She’s just a part of my job,” I say.

Naima smirks. “We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune after you take her to bed.”

She and Carter have overly romantic notions, but what they have is rare.

Everyone who almost died ten years ago in the attack lost the ability to see color—the world shifting to monochrome in the gasp of a breath. Carter is one of the rare few who had his full color vision restored. He speaks about it like a holy experience—as if the moment he realized he was in love with Naima was the moment he was reborn, and the color returning was just a symptom of a new life begi

It’s nauseating.

In recent years in Mountain Haven relationships, waiting for color to appear has become a point of tension. I can’t be bothered to succumb to the hopeless notion, nor do I aspire to.

For ten years, I’ve had one plan: rebuild and revenge. I have been careful not to form attachments with anyone. The thousands of us left here who survived the attack split into two directions. Some survivors sought out the comfort of partnership and family—eager to put their second chances to use. The rest, like me, turned away from that entirely.

Watching Carter pine for his wife while we were away was enough to put me off it even more.

Outside, a bell rings, and the bar quiets for a moment to hear the pattern. But it’s just that one chime, the warning that the hunt will start soon.

“Shall we?” Bryce says, nodding toward the door.

I stand and follow him toward the exit. Carter lags behind, kisses his wife, and swats her ass as she walks away.

He struts up beside us with a grin. The cold air steals the breath from my lungs as soon as we step outside, but I know the chill will be short-lived. Once the hunt starts, my blood will be burning.

I’m desperate for this hunt. It would be easier to blame my eagerness on my time away, but much as I hate to admit it, it’s just as likely that it’s the way Harlow has been taunting me. Maybe it’s just Harlow in general, with her vicious smile, her sinful body, the heady floral scent of her skin, and the heated look in her eyes when I sucked her finger earlier.

There are plenty of things that are a

Carter and Bryce lead the way, and I scrub a hand over my face as we walk. I need to stop fantasizing about that. Tonight is about our people and playing the part of the heir.

By the time we reach the edge of the ruins where a statue to Ke

The prey group of men and women fuss with their white cloaks, making them look like nervous ghosts milling about the entrance to the hunt grounds. The white is so that even those of us who can’t see color will be able to tell who is participating in the hunt.

On the other side of the circle, the hunters are decked out in dark colors, their hungry gazes assessing the options in front of them. I join them, Bryce falling into place beside me. Carter hangs back toward the edge of the circle in his green guard cloak.

I scan the crowd until I find my target. I’d know those dark eyes and the curve of that sensuous mouth anywhere. Miriam.

My blood heats. She’s a good twenty feet away, but a breeze stirs her hair, and her scent hits me all at once, sage and floral and so familiar. Desire rushes through me. Perhaps my friends were right. I do deserve some fun. I was just going to catch Miriam and steal her away to fool around for old times’ sake. I wasn’t going to fuck her, but Harlow’s disdain is obvious and she’s made it clear she could not care less who I fuck.

What’s between Miriam and me is purely transactional. I can think of no better way to chase away the memory of how Harlow’s body felt arched against mine. This will set me straight.

Miriam winks, pulls her braid over her shoulder, and tightens the ribbon that fastens the end of it.

“One last hurrah?” Bryce whispers. “You look like you need it.”

I grin. “Can’t hurt to indulge this once.”

Bryce claps a hand on my back. “Fucking finally. You’ve been so serious of late. Happy to see the old friend Hen is back.”

I swat his hand away. “I’ve been here all along. Now, who will you be chasing this evening?”

He nods to a curvy woman who is smiling shyly at him. She lifts her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear and flashes the ribbon around her wrist. “She looks fun and she’s new. I love the first-timers.”

The restlessness of the crowd is a hum in my bones. I just want to go.

My father lifts his hands and a hush comes over the crowd. “All participants must follow the rules. The word Breach brings all games to an end immediately,” he says, his stern gaze passing over the crowd. “Now be safe and have fun.” He lifts his arms so they frame the statue behind him. “We dedicate this hunt to Ke

A guard on the edge of the forest holds up a bell. “All prey get a five-minute head start.”

He rings the bell, and the participants in white dash into the trees, disappearing like specters into the darkness.

The fiddlers start playing loud music and the prey disappear into the hunt grounds. With a mere couple of miles between us and the mountain face, there are only so many places they can go inside this small area within the fort walls.

These few minutes of anticipation are my favorite part. So much about our lives here is regimented and controlled. We rely on order above all. These nights are when we can be as wild as we want, so long as we have the consent of our partner, and sometimes it’s a relief to not have to hide the impulse to be monstrous, especially after how much I’ve been leashing it with Harlow here.

The image of her ru

The guards walk through the crowd, reminding us of the rules as the song changes over.

I can practically feel the hum of excitement in the air as hunters tip their heads back, scenting the air. It’s a gift bestowed on many of us thanks to a blessing bestowed by Elvodeen to the Davilian family. Those of us who hunt in the Drained Wood need it to know when the blood mist is coming and that enhanced sense of smell saves lives.

I can smell Miriam still. I’m not sure if she just didn’t run that far or if my senses are so heightened because I’m desperate for this, but I also don’t care. I just hope she’s ready for me.

Beside me, Bryce stretches and rolls his shoulders to ready himself. “You going to Miriam?”

I nod.

The fiddle music swells, and I scan the crowd. Everyone is caught up in the revel except Stefan Laurence. His narrowed eyes are fixed on me.

Bryce bends toward me. “You think he’s pissed about Seth?”