Chapter 4 They Feel You - Livvy's POV

Something slammed against the door hard enough to push him forward and rattle the walls. I jumped a couple of feet in the air, trying to get as far away as possible.

“What is that thing?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he kept his hands braced against the thick wooden door, his shoulders rigid beneath his black jacket. The muscles in his arms flexed as another impact shook the frame.

Another hit.

Dust drifted from the ceiling.

"Oh, that's comforting," I muttered. "Doors usually aren't supposed to lose arguments."

A loud bang filled the air. This one made the hinges groan. I glanced wildly around the room. It was old and filled with so much dust that I was surprised I hadn’t sneezed yet.

Stone walls disappeared into darkness overhead. Shelves lined one side of the room, cluttered with glass bottles, leather-bound books, and candles that somehow burned without melting. Strange symbols had been carved into the floor, looping in circles and intersecting with other marks that I didn’t understand.

A fireplace sat cold in one corner. A long wooden table occupied the center of the room. Someone had been staying here.

"This is your house?" I asked.

"No."

"Excellent. So we're breaking and entering while being murdered. Got it,” I said sarcastically.

Whatever was on the other side of the door suddenly stopped and the man froze. He looked up at the ceiling.

“Great. It’s going to test the wards.”

“Wards?” I asked, unsure of what he had just said.

“It’s protection,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t have time to explain this to you.”

"...Those are a thing?"

He glanced over one shoulder, his expression unreadable. "You've had a very educational evening."

"No kidding."

Outside, something scraped against the door. It didn’t sound like claws, but I wasn’t sure what we were even dealing with, so I couldn’t make a guess. I wrapped my arms around myself.

"So..." I said carefully. "...what exactly is trying to eat us?"

“Something you don’t want to meet by yourself,” he replied dryly.

"Wow," I nodded. "That clears everything up."

His jaw twitched. I wasn't sure if he'd almost smiled or if I was hallucinating. "You joke when you're frightened."

"I joke when I'm breathing."

The thing outside hit the door again. It was weaker than before. We waited in silence, then there was nothing again. Silence settled over the room so suddenly my ears rang.

He stayed near the door for a full minute before finally moving back. “It’s gone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Eh,” he said, tilting his head. “Reasonably sure.”

"Reasonably isn't exactly inspiring confidence,” I said softly.

"It never is."

I stared at him. "You know, for someone who apparently rescues people for a living, your bedside manner is terrible."

"I don't rescue people for a living,” he groaned. “Just you.”

"Oh," I paused. "Is kidnapping more of a hobby?"

That actually earned me a tiny smirk, but it faded as quickly as it came.

"There," I said, pointing at him. "You almost smiled."

"I didn't,” he growled.

"You absolutely did."

"I tolerated your sarcasm,” he corrected.

"That's smiling for you?" I asked, my voice cracking in disbelief.

"It's the closest you're getting."

He let out a quiet huff that sounded suspiciously like amusement before turning his attention back toward the door. Whatever had been outside was gone, but he wasn't convinced it would stay that way.

I watched him for a long moment. “So—”

“Don’t ask what you don’t truly want to know,” he interrupted. “Right now, I need to figure out a way to get us back home.”

“Home? You’re taking me home?” I asked, my voice filled with hope.

His dark gaze cut in my direction. “Something like that.”

"Something like that?" I repeated. "That doesn't sound like you're taking me back to my apartment."

"No,” he replied, his tone clipped.

"My job?"

"No,” he repeated.

"My friend?"

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "No."

The hope that had flared in my chest fizzled just as quickly.

"You compelled Remi to tell my boss I quit."

"I did,” he said sharply.

"You ruined my life,” I snapped.

"I saved it.” The certainty in his voice made me want to scream. “And you will learn to be thankful for it.”

“No, you don’t get to decide—”

“I already did,” he interrupted.

I threw my hands in the air. How could he do this? I didn’t even know him. I didn’t know anything that was going on and I was….What was I?

I turned back to him. “Why did that demon call me a blood letter repeatedly?”

His gaze narrowed in my direction before he found something else to look at and pretended to be very interested in it instead of me. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

I let out a huff and stomped my foot. “No, I’m leaving and going home.”

His gaze shifted in my direction then, and for a moment, my blood ran cold. “And what do you think you’ll achieve by going home? Do you want to end up taken by what you saw at the bar?”

I folded my arms across my chest, trying to ignore the way my hands were shaking. "You're assuming I believe any of this."

His eyebrow lifted. "You watched a demon die. There are still remnants of his blood on your face and you’re telling me you don’t believe?”

"I watched...something." I waved my hand vaguely. "For all I know, you people hired an incredibly committed special effects crew."

His stare was so flat that I almost laughed. "You're clinging to denial."

"I'm clinging to sanity."

"They're no longer the same thing."

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. That irritated me more than it should have. He was right and oh how I hated it, but I knew what I saw.

I looked around the room again, taking in the glowing candles that somehow hadn't burned down, the symbols carved into the stone floor, and shelves full of books that looked older than my grandparents.

Nothing about this place made sense. Nothing about tonight made sense. I blew out a slow breath.

"Fine," I muttered. "Let's pretend I believe you."

"Deep down, you already do,” he said with a laugh.

"I said pretend."

He crossed his arms, studying me with those unnervingly calm dark eyes. "It changes nothing."

"It changes everything," I shot back. "Five minutes ago my biggest concern was whether my boss was going to make me clean the beer taps before I left. Now you're telling me I can't go home because monsters know my address."

"They don't know your address specifically,” he said, one brow arching. “It’s more like they can feel you.”

I blinked. “Feel me?”

I had always lived in safety, without ever worrying about anything except a random man grabbing me at the bar. Shadows never held dominion over me.

And now I had monsters feeling me.

“You have got to be kidding me.”