Thrill of the Chase (Hunters & Heartbreakers 1)

XXI - Langdon

(I lied...the climax is the next chapter!)

Atlas of the World — Europe

Safe-Houses for Hunters, marked by red 0.

31 May, early morning. — I suppose it's just as well that we've ended up here. I had a feeling we wouldn't get away with the stunt we'd pulled in Wapping for long, and it turned out I was right. Before long Father knew, and somehow Marjorie managed to sneak a note to me, saying Solomon was livid and they didn't have long until something very bad happened. She'd proposed we leave that evening, with one stop: the Hudsons'. Whether they came with us or not was up to them, but we had to get out of London before our fathers locked down the entire city to hunt us down.

Now, looking at Giff, I wonder if he's what they've been after all along. We'd seen what he could do under a blood-binding spell, and had Father and the Sellings been allowed to keep going, they probably would have tried it with two creatures at a time, then more. And God knew how many that was.

"Are you stuck as a bat?" I ask him, while I take off my disguise. The beard first, which had begun to turn hot and itchy, and then the eyebrows. The grey won't come out without water and a scrub, so there's nothing I can do about it for now.

He flaps his wings and croaks softly, blinking his large red eyes.

"Is there any way to turn you back?" I ask, even though I know he can't talk.

That time his ears wriggle, and he climbs up to the top of the cage to hang upside-down.

I sigh, realising it won't do any good to keep trying for an answer. If he even understands me. Instead I kick my shoes off, wrestle out of my morning-coat, and collapse back on the bed. I'm tired enough I could fall asleep right now, except my mind won't settle. I think of the Shikari Wells spotted on the platform, and I know it's Father's doing. He even trained to become one, and he knows exactly what they have to go through. Which means he knows they're able to find us.

And then do what? a voice in the back of my mind says. None of us are any good to him dead. Which means what? Will he drag us back to London in chains? Drug us and keep us tied up underneath the Guild or the Institute? Lock us in a cage like he did with all the other creatures?

Tap tap.

That noise breaks up my train of thought. I sit up, trying to flatten my hair, then push myself off the bed to crack the door open. Outside stands Wells, his hair back to normal and the makeup in a messy smear across his cheeks. I spot a black curl of his tattoo on his sternum above his open shirt collar.

"Evening," I say.

"You're always so formal," says Wells, and I see the want in his eyes.

"I was raised that way," I say with a shrug.

He slips inside, shuts the door, then seizes my face in his hands. "Then, Mr Langdon Wilkes, do I have permission to kiss you?"

"Yesh," I say, the most I can manage with his palms mashing my cheeks.

The rest is a foggy memory: Wells kissing me, pulling at my hair as we stumble to the bed, my fingers quickly unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his shoulders, his slightly less careful as he tears through every layer. Then his bare skin's touching mine, just like that time in the library, and fire races through my veins. He pushes me back onto the bed and climbs on top, his fingertips tracing down my chest lightly with one hand as he fiddles with the fastening on my trousers.

"I'm not ready for—" I start, but his hand leaves that spot and goes lower, giving me a light squeeze on the way. What comes out after is just a groan.