The forest blazes with the darker beauty of the night. A hovering half moon above, cackles of insects , skeletal vines and trees that look alike because... Well we have been routing in circles for hours . I am beginning to flare up.
Jordan might as well admit we have lost the way to wherever the fuck Robespierre's holed up in.
My gloved fingers itch, electric pulse running up my arms. I resist a groan, flexing my hands to keep the charge down.
"Jordan," I hiss finally, the word slicing through the night. "Admit it. We're lost."
He stops walking but doesn't turn. The moon spills down his back, silvering the edge of his jaw, that stubborn line that never bends.
"We're not lost," he mutters. "The path's just… concealed."
"Concealed?" my laugh is short and bitter "We've been circling the same rotten tree for half an hour. "
His turns to face me with a ridiculously nonchalant shrug, moonlight giving his face a gentle glow "It might look like the same rotten tree to you but believe me the forest is large and .."
"Very large it typically blinds us " I snort sarcastically.
He squints at me. "You done with your sarcasm?"
"Not even close," I retort. "Next time you decide to play forest tour guide, maybe bring a compass. Or a sense of direction."
Jordan exhales sharply through his nose, that almost-laugh he does when he's seconds away from snapping. "You forget I can smell trails."
"Congratulations," I shoot back, "you've successfully sniffed us into a loop."
His lips twitch—half snarl, half grin. "You know, most people appreciate my company in the wilderness."
"Most people don't have to worry about being roasted alive when I get irritated."
He steps closer, too close, and drops his voice. "You're irritated a lot."
I narrow my eyes. "Maybe because someone keeps promising we're almost there every ten minutes like some deranged Google Maps."
Jordan chuckles low, head tilting. "You're cute when you're homicidal."
"Keep talking," I say sweetly. "I'll show you homicidal."
There's a heartbeat of silence — then his grin softens into something dangerous. "You're glowing."
"What?"
He gestures to my hands. A faint blue shimmer pulses beneath the leather. Damn it. I clench my fists, trying to kill the light.
Jordan's eyes flicker, all humor gone now. "Easy, Night. Breathe."
"I am breathing," I mutter, even as my chest tightens.
"Then maybe try not to electrocute me mid–argument," he murmurs, stepping closer anyway, his voice dipping low. "Or do. Might finally get you to stop pretending you don't care."
I glare at him, pulse sparking in my palms. "You're infuriating."
"And you're beautiful when you're dangerous."
"Shut up."
He smirks. "Make me."
For one insane second, I actually consider it — electricity humming between us like the world's worst love song.
My lips find his, and the kiss stays tantalizingly slow while the buzz beneath my gloves quietens.
"Love beneath the moon" A raspy voice jolts us apart.
A figure is standing a few feet away from us, half veiled by the night. A man...or an apparition. Jordan's claws shimmers in a dazzling flash and a growl escapes his throat.
"Sheathe your claws, little wolf" The figure draws closer into the beckoning light.
I gasp.
It is a man, so terribly short as to be rightly considered a dwarf. He's dressed in a long, black robe and his beards are long enough to kiss the ground.
Jordan straightens, snapping back into humanity "Who the hell are you?"
Sharp eyes dart at him then flick towards me, then to the faint blue light still ghosting around my fists.
Short hands stroke the heavy long beard and then the raspy voice says "I am someone who knows enough to know that a wolf " He sneers emphatically "And a human is a big no no."
I stiffen.
Jordan flares silently, but the wolf in him stays sheathed beneath a thinning line of patience "Well the world can adjust anytime, don't you think so?"
The man laughs, a deep croaking sound that did nothing to tame the unease in my chest "I think you should practice what you preach by smooching in the open and see how the world can adjust to like it"
I dive in "Now don't get any ideas, sir. We were only...."
He looks at me straight in the eyes "Never apologize for loving, Night Carter. "
I freeze, Jordan's mouth hang open in undisguised surprise. Our thoughts were burning in one direction : how did the mysterious dwarf know my name.
Jordan recovers faster than I do and bows his head in a reverent pause. My mouth has absorbed the surprise and I am still gaping, more confused than ever.
Then I hear Jordan's voice rasp out slowly "The man of many moons. And the pale fangs. Bobbit Robbespierre."
My eyes are too round now.
The dwarf ignores Jordan and walks over to me, taking my gloved hand in his while I stand, shocked into silence "Your energy is unstable. You're suppressing it with gloves? How quaint."
I take a step back. "It keeps me from burning things I care about."
He grins, showing no fangs—just perfect, too-sharp teeth. "How noble. And how foolish. The more you cage it, the hungrier it becomes."
Jordan moves instantly, stepping between us. "You're not here to psychoanalyze her. You're here to help her control it."
Robbespierre studies him, unbothered. "Control is an illusion, wolf. You of all creatures should know that."
Static crawls up my arms. The gloves heat beneath my palms.
Robbespierre watches with mild fascination. "There it is," he murmurs. "The voltage of emotion. It feeds on what you deny."
Jordan snarls, "You're provoking her!"
"And you're weakening her," Robbespierre snaps, sudden steel in his voice. "You think love will anchor her, but it's the chain that will drag her down."
The air cracks.
My gloves spark.
Jordan grabs my wrist, eyes wide. "Night—"
Too late. One glove detaches from my skin in a fast unexplainable bounce and a surge of electric blue arcs across the space, striking a far tree .
Robbespierre barely moves—just raises a hand, absorbing the current like it's nothing.
"Ah" He breathes "Telectrokinesis indeed. But fused with emotions." He snaps a finger and my glove that had bounced off sprouts up and waltz to his hands.
I swallow. Impressed and at the same time afraid.
Robbespierre hands the glove over to Jordan, muttering "Wrap her".
As Jordan slips the glove back on, his eyes intent on mine, his voice feebly low. He whispers "This will soon be over, my pearl."
Robespierre hisses loudly, taking the reply from my throat. His raspy voice croaks "Enough of the sweet nothings, little wolf. " He turns to me "Why don't we head over to my chambers before you burn the whole place down"
My legs pilot me unsteadily as I walk with Robbespierre, Jordan's fingers finding ways to intertwine with mine, our steps piloting us deeper into the forest.