He offers me a hand up into the cruiser.And when he touches my hip to guide me in—just a steadying pressure—IswearI hear a low rumble from his chest.Not a word.Not a chuckle.
A growl.
My eyes snap to his, and Ifeelit—his presence like a furnace, his fingers lingering, possessive in a way I should probably question.
Instead?
I lean into it.
“Yep,” he says, sliding in beside me like he didn’t just growl while holding my hips.“Ex-Demon turned faithful.Married a Sorceress.He does the holy water.She brings the hellfire.They’re an adorable couple.”
I blink.“Okay, that's horrifyingly romantic.”
He chuckles, and it rolls through me like thunder, low and warm anddangerous.
And I realize something, sitting here next to him, in a town where I don’t have to make excuses.
Usually, after I have a vision—especially one where I nearly faint—I’m scrambling.Backtracking.Making up something about low blood sugar or too much caffeine or, I don’t know, seeing a mouse.
But not here.
Not in Arrhythmia.
Not with him.
He didn’t even flinch when I froze and fell.
Just accepted it.
And that?That’s new.
It’s nice.
“This town’s a conundrum, Sheriff,” I murmur, watching the weird and wonderful roll by outside the window—floating jack-o’-lanterns, a Centaur riding a moped, and what looks like a Banshee playing solitaire on a stoop.
Owen glances over at me, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift like it isn’t the most distractingly attractive thing I’ve ever seen.
“You have no idea, Agent,” he says, starting the car.
And I believe him.
I glance over, heat still curling low in my stomach.
“I think I heard you call me Megan before.”
His gold eyes flick to mine.
“You did.”
I smile, bold from adrenaline or maybe just reckless curiosity.
“I think I like it.”
He rumbles a sound that might be a laugh—or maybe a growl.Either way, it does things to me.
“Noted.”He shifts the cruiser into drive.“Call me Owen.”
I bite my lip and nod, heart doing something stupid and fluttery in my chest.
