He points to the door. “The iron barrier. Iron built into every corner of the house.”
Again with the iron. I glance at my wrist. Nothing about the glowing green ring is normal. Maybe Declan knows what he’s talking about and it’s time for me to set my skepticism aside.
Another thought hits me. He didn’t bring me just anywhere. He brought me to his family’s home. The place where he thinks I’ll be safest.
Declan steps past me, shedding his leather jacket. The dark ink crawling up his arms shifts with the movement. He drops the jacket on a hook and the simple domesticity of it feels oddly intimate.
“Did you grow up here?” I ask.
He grunts in agreement, the sound barely more than a vibration in his chest.
I turn in a slow circle, taking in the cavernous entry hall. Old maps line the walls, dotted with tiny names of places I’ve never heard of. A portrait of a severe-looking man glowers down at me, his lips pursed so tight I almost expect him to leap out of the frame and scold me for not being worthy of visiting this place.
“Who are they?” I gesture toward the portraits, then squint at Declan. “Not seeing any resemblance yet.”
He snorts. “That’s my great-great-grandfather.” He nods to the one next to it. “His father was one of the founders of the town.”
“Let me guess, Baxters and Applewoods have also been here since the beginning?”
A grin spreads over his face. “You’re pretty and clever. Two for one.”
He thinks I’m pretty.
I fight the urge to squeal like a seventh grader and continue studying the line of portraits. A woman in a blue velvet gownwith a soft expression catches my attention. Something about her eyes feels familiar. “And her?”
He drops his gaze. “My mother.”
“I knew it. You have her eyes.”
He nods without looking up.
His parents are dead, Emery!“Sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s okay.” He moves past me into a wide corridor, flicking on more lights. I’ll ask about the other portraits later.
Shadows retreat as I follow him, but the house still feels heavy and full of watchful eyes.
My boots squeak and click faintly against the polished wood floors. “So…iron. That’s what keeps us safe?”
“Yes.” His tone is clipped, but he stops walking and turns to face me.
“What about this?” I lift my wrist, the faint green circle glowing just enough to send awe and disbelief swirling in my stomach.
His gaze cuts to it like a knife, tattoos twitching against his skin. “You shouldn’t have touched me.”
“What’re you talking about? Touching you did this?” An awful thought occurs to me. “Oh my God. I touched you the whole way here. Do I have these marks all over my body now?” I wiggle out of my jacket and tug my sweater up, desperately searching my bared skin for signs of more green brands.
Low rumbling laughter stops me before I strip off my sweater.
I stop and glare at him. “Why are you laughing?”
“Emery.” He steps forward and takes my hand, lifting it until the green ring’s glowing between us. “You felt this when it branded your skin. You can still feel it, right?”
I nod quickly. “It burns.”
“Well, do you feel burning anywhere else on your body?”
My nipples could slice diamonds and the throb between my legs has only intensified since I got off the bike. I’m burning all over with the need to be skin on skin with him. But the searing on my wrist…I don’t feelthatkind of burn anywhere else.
