No crows to be seen. The only ears besides our own were made of corn. Even the clouds in the night sky seemed to understand the need for privacy as they dulled the moonlight into a faint glow.
Assessing all of me with those intense eyes of his, he gave a saccharine smile. “You think you can handle whatever I throw at you, kitten?”
“Let’s find out, patches.” A faint smirk teased at my lips.
Challenge issued. Would he accept it?
Chapter
Nine
This girl—thiswoman—had no idea what she was asking for. I stalked over to her, my cap tightly clutched in my hand. With a jerky motion, I hung my trademark accessory onto the end of one of the perpendicular beams of my cross frame.
It hung there like some out-of-place decoration, waiting for its owner to climb up and take his rightful spot overseeing the corn fields.
Later.
“Alright, here’s the deal.” I anchored my hands on my hips as I turned to face her. “We’re skipping past all the bullshit.”
She folded her arms in front of her chest, likely defending herself from the chill lingering in the air. I refused to acknowledge that it could have also been a result of my outburst. It hadn’t been my intention to freak the fuck out onher, but—fuck.
This year was not going as I had planned. Every year was the same damn dog-and-pony show. Miss Pumpkin Belle—Falston’s autumnal equivalent of a beauty pageant queen—drew a name from an antique wooden pail. More often than not, we rigged the drawing for a name of our choosing.
At dusk on the sixth day of the festival, the lucky participant would enter the corn maze. The complex path was my domain, filled with deadly obstacles that ensured no one made it out alive.
In all fairness, Corbin and I gave the runner until dawn to escape. If they didn’t make it to the end? We had our fun until their blood soaked the soil, and the Council took care of the rest of the logistics and lies from there.
Whatever darker powers the Town Council engaged in were passed down through the generations, leaving us stuck in this forsaken hellhole, damned to repeat the chase every year.
Now, here I was, staring down the first person in almost a century who threatened to shake up our annual sacrifice. All I wanted to do was grab her hands and reassure her that I wasn’t going to harm her. Not tonight, anyway.
As my hands hovered near hers, I quickly snatched them back with a frustrated growl. I curled them both into tight fists until my knuckles bleached white beneath my fingerless tanned gloves.
Forcing myself to lower myhands, I kept them balled up tight to prevent myself from grabbing anything or anybody.
One deep breath in. One slow exhale.
While I was having my mental crisis of how I was going to explain everything I knew to her, Harlow parted her lips. However, the second I shot her a glare, whatever words she’d been about to speak died on her tongue.
“You’re different.” There. That was a good beginning point, right?
After waiting for me to explain, she finally spoke with a wariness in her tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Stepping closer to her, I leaned over, placing my hands on my thighs so that I was eye level with those maddening mossy hues of hers.
“I know what you are. Do you think I can’t smell it on you?”
She had the gall to look confused as she drew her head back away from me slightly. It pulled a rumbling deep chuckle out of my throat.
“Predators smell other hunters, and fuck if you haven’t been the sweetest one I’ve ever crossed.” I dragged a knuckle across her cheek.
The pulse in her neck was already erratically jumping, breaths faltering in their steady cadence, and I knew I had her exactly where I wanted her.
Predictably, she responded, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bale.”
Dropping my hand away from her face, I sighed and straightened up.
“You really think I call you ‘kitten’ for my health?” I shook my head and grinned. “Everything about you smells like shadows and moonlit flowers.”
