Chapter 18
Avery POV
My heart is one traitorous bitch.
Has it not been hurt enough? Wounded, shattered, patched together again only to shatter worse. And yet here it is, pounding like a war drum just because of proximity. Just because of his arms around me.
I clutch at Sparkle's collar hidden underneath her fur as she bounds from one massive jungle root to another. The movement jostles me, and Jace is pushed even closer against my back. His body is warm. Steady. And far too familiar.
I almost lean into him.
Almost.
The instinct is terrifying.
His breath ghosts past my ear, and I suppress the shiver that crawls up my spine. I grit my teeth. I hate this. I hate how much I like it. How I've missed this warmth. This quiet rhythm of being held like I'm something worth protecting.
The arms around my waist tighten slightly, and my brain short-circuits for a second. A very brief, very dangerous second where I almost believe this is okay.
But I know better.
I'm better than this.
I force myself to focus. Anything but him.
Sparkle suddenly stops, and we both leap off her back, landing in the soft mulch below.
We look around—and there it is.
A single boot. Blood-splattered.
Jace crouches down, fingers brushing the leather. The sadness that flickers across his face nearly makes me speak—makes me want to comfort him. But I turn away, jaw tightening.
This isn't him. It looks like my beloved. Sounds like him. Smells like him. But it isn't him.
I scan the perimeter. Broken branches, claw marks. A struggle.
Then—
Sparkle snarls and swipes. A high-pitched screech cuts the air as a green shimmer flickers into view.
A massive chameleon— literally the size of a fucking cow—slams to the ground, unmoving.
"Fuck."
I don't wait. I pull my guns.
There's no time to think.
I fire at where the light bends wrong, where air shimmers unnaturally. The jungle moves.
"Don't let their tongue touch you—it's poisonous!!" I yell.
Jace reacts fast but he's shooting wildly, wasting precious mana.
"Look for odd spaces! Light reflects differently!!"
I dodge left, narrowly missing a whip-like tongue.
Jace stumbles once, then his eyes narrow. He catches on. His next shots are precise. Fatal. Blood splashes in spurts as camouflaged beasts reveal themselves in death.
We fight.
Sparkle becomes a shadow of destruction, snarling and slashing. I shoot and reload. Jace moves in sync. It's a mess of green and red and light flickers.
We end up back to back.
"Are these fucking chameleons?!" he barks, out of breath.
"Yeah," I grunt. "Weak but poisonous. And their camouflage is a bitch to deal with."
He grunts, shifting behind me. "You sound like an expert."
Another tongue lashes toward me.
Jace turns without hesitation, grabs me by the waist, and yanks me into him, out of reach.
The motion knocks the breath from my lungs. We're chest-to-back, his arm around me, steady.
I glance up. Our eyes meet.
The air feels like it's holding its breath.
And I hate it.
I pull away, slipping from his grasp without a word, and keep shooting.