Her mouth twitched. “Maybe I do.”
I kissed her before she could finish that smirk—just a breath of a thing, soft and slow and nothing like the hungry,filthy promises I’d made a minute ago. Fuck…I’d never felt anything like this in my life, and I didn’t want to rush it, didn’t want to scare her, but god, it was starting to swell in my chest so big I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it inside.
When I pulled back, she looked dazed. Just a little.
“Beau…”
“I know.”
She blinked at me. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“I don’t need to,” I said. “Not yet. Just let me take care of you tonight.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed, then she nodded. “Okay.”
CHAPTER 21
Noelle
By late afternoon,it had started to feel almost normal.
The tents were up, the camera traps were placed along the ridge and near the creek, Shane had finished at least two dramatic on-site narrations, and even Holden had stopped muttering about environmental variables and started looking interested in something Whit pointed out near a cluster of mossy stones.
We hiked the creek trail in a lazy loop, Milo leading the charge with his bandana flapping like he was the head of a National Geographic expedition. There were laughs, minor complaints, sarcastic commentary—it felt like any other trip. For a little while, I even forgot I didn’t like the woods.
By the time we circled back to camp, the light was beginning to change—softening at the edges, gold bleeding into gray. Dinner was a collective mess of campfire chili, burnt hot dogs, and leftover snacks from everyone’s glove compartments. When the food was gone and our bottle of whiskey had made a few rounds, we all settled into that loose sprawl that comeswith firelight and just enough alcohol—knees touching, voices soft, shadows dancing in the trees.
“Okay,” Delilah said, tilting her head back against a log. Her curls caught the flicker of the flames like a halo. “Time for a story.”
Whit’s eyes slid over to her. “Ah…so when I tell stories, it’s allWhit was high! Don’t listen to him!But it’s a big fuckin’ deal when you want to share?”
Delilah scoffed. “I am anexcellentstoryteller.”
“Questionable,” Holden muttered into a tin cup.
“At least not all of mine start with, ‘When I was in Guatemala,’” Delilah said.
Shane barked out a laugh.
“Anyway,” Delilah said. “This was about ten years ago—back when I was working for this antiquities dealer in New Orleans. We specialized in…weird stuff—oddities. Cursed cameos, preserved saints’ tongues, a very disturbing number of dolls with human teeth. You name it, we sold it.”
Holden made a noise like he didn’t want to ask, but couldn’t help himself. “People actually buy that kind of thing?”
“Oh, honey,” Delilah said sweetly, “you’d be shocked what kind of people have money. Especially when they think it’ll give them power.”
The fire cracked, sending sparks into the air.
“Anyway. One day, this guy shows up—rich, pale, eyes like they hadn’t closed in a decade. He says he’s looking for a mirror. Not just any mirror. A specific one. Late 1800s, mercury-backed, once owned by a Creole medium who’d gone missing under mysterious circumstances.”
“So, a cursed mirror,” Whit said.
“No,” Delilah said. “A hungry one.”
She let the silence hang for a second.
“He said he needed it to see someone he’d lost. Wouldn’tsay who. Only that he’d tried everything else. Séances, necromancy, blood rituals. None of it worked. But he was sure this mirror could get her back.”
No one laughed. Even Shane had gone quiet.
