“He is. As are the others.”
“Others?”
Scythe acknowledged with a curt nod. “The other lost boys. The dozens of young Hunters who escaped their collars when Dragos was killed.”
Chapter 8
Ettore and their intimidating host were just parting ways as Bella stepped out of the bedroom where Chiara was resting with Pietro. She hesitated until the immense black-haired male had walked off before she approached.
Ettore glanced her way, a look of lingering astonishment in his eyes.
“Is everything all right with your friend?” she asked.
He grunted, raking a hand through his loose blond waves. “I wouldn’t exactly call Scythe a friend just yet, but yeah, we’re good.”
Bella registered the name with an inward shudder. It was certainly a fitting moniker for the curt, menacing-looking Breed male. “If Scythe’s glower is anything to go by, he doesn’t seem happy to be saddled with houseguests.”
“Are you kidding? That is his happy face.” Ettore’s grin flashed, revealing the twin dimples that had never failed to charm her. “How are Chiara and Pietro?”
“Exhausted. They’re already asleep.”
“You should be too,” he said, his voice dropping to a tone of tender concern. His hand rested warmly on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you settled in the other bedroom.”
It all seemed so surreal, being in this strange place, feeling safe despite the fact that she was on the run from an evil man and his network of criminal associates.
was saying something, coming from Savage, a warrior whose stock-in-trade was dealing death.
At Savage’s back, he heard Bella suck in a shallow gasp.
“It’s all right,” he told her, touching her arm in reassurance. “This is who we’re supposed to meet.”
Without introduction, Scythe turned and started walking away. Apparently, he was as people-friendly as his brother. So long as the male was trustworthy and his safe house was secure, Savage would give the lack of social skills a pass.
“Let’s go,” he said, pausing to press a kiss to Bella’s forehead. “We’ll be safe here, I promise.”
They followed Scythe to one of the last cave houses on the path, a squatty residence devoid of windows and accessible through a door that was reinforced with an iron grate. Savage wasn’t expecting much as the other Breed male opened the door and let them inside, but it turned out the place only appeared forbidding and neglected from the outside. They stepped into a comfortable, if minimalist, dwelling with hand-hewn furnishings, arched stone ceilings, and warm, rug-covered floors.
Once they were inside, Scythe motioned for them to follow him farther into the place. More rooms were burrowed out of the rock of the ravine, connected by snaking tunnels large enough for both Breed males to walk through at their full height.
“I don’t generally have guests,” Scythe announced, sounding none too pleased. His voice was low and dark, almost a snarl as he strode ahead of them, his words echoing off the walls. “There is a small bed in the chamber to your right, and a larger one in the room at the end of this corridor. Make use of them as you wish.”
Savage glanced at Bella. “You and Chiara take the beds. I don’t need to sleep.”
It was true enough. As Breed, he didn’t require a lot of rest, but he doubted his thoughts would give him much peace anyway. To say nothing of his body, which was still thrumming with want of Bella.
She looked as if she meant to protest his sacrifice, but her sister-in-law was teetering on her feet and Pietro hadn’t lifted his head since they left the truck. “I’ll go help them settle in.”
Savage remained in the passage as the women departed for the room. When he glanced at Scythe, he found the male watching Chiara through narrowed eyes. A dark scowl creased his brow.
“Trygg didn’t say anything about a child being in danger.”
“He didn’t?” Savage frowned. “I’m sure I mentioned the boy when I spoke with him.”