The smile on Slade's face is worth coming back from a far more distant place than death. His teeth on me make me hiss, shudder, my grip tightening again. It will leave bruises. They will fade too quickly.

Flick of a smile over my face when I lift my eyes to Wintergreen's. "You are not inaccurate." My voice is not quite steady, breath beginning to come unevenly.

Slade and Wintergreen are more stunning together than I could have thought, or wanted to think, and it makes something burn in me to look at them.