That doesn’t make him laugh, though. He stays serious, studying me for a moment before he answers.
“I wasn’t joking. I’m not a man. Or a woman. I enjoy being something delightfully in between. Or maybe outside of the inbetween. But no, I don’t give a fuck what you call me. Language is stupid anyway. You think mafia assassins get workplace rights and go around politely reminding people about their pronouns.”
Something about that rankles me. He comes across as permanently encased in a layer ofcouldn’t-give-a-fuck, but I don’t like the idea that he’s pretending not to care about something for the sake of blending in.
“Yeah, but you could make it a thing. People are pretty afraid of you, I’m sure they’d get in line. I’m more than happy to whip the little shits back at the farm if you want me to.”
Fallow stays silent, but a sinister smile spreads across his face as he watches me.
“You mean that, don’t you?” he asks. “Christ. You really are the most ethical little criminal I’ve ever met. It’s actually adorable.”
He’s just saying it to get a rise out of me, so I concentrate on keeping my expression blank.
“But no,” he continues, his voice lighter than it has been since we got in the car, free and easy in a way that makes me think he’s not lying. “I honestly don’t give a fuck about it. I hate words at the best of times, and I don’t wish to be perceived by anyone if I have the option, whether it’s incorrectly or correctly doesn’t matter to me. Except for words likebroordude, that irks the shit out of me for some reason. But the pronouns don’t. I know some people care, and that’s fine. Other people can do whatever the fuck they want. Butyoucan call me whatever the fuckyouwant, little rabbit. It’s all the same to me.”
“So, I can start calling youprincess, then?”
That makes him genuinely laugh out loud, and it’s a magical sound. Sinister and slightly off in a way that probably bothers most people, but fuck me, I’m hooked.
“You can if you want, but we both know it’s a fucking lie. I’m not your fucking princess.”
“No,” I say, not intending for the word to come out as dreamy as it does. “You’re something else entirely.”
I just don’t know what it is.
The farm is quieterthan I expect when we get back. Lucky must not be home yet, if there’s no one yelling and bitching at the top of their lungs.
But as soon as we walk inside, I see the real reason.
Savage is waiting for me. Right in front of everyone.
He hasn’t been out of the Banna for long, but for him to come all the way here to find me instead of meeting somewhere else must mean it’s serious. I know he hasn’t looked back once since giving up this lifestyle. I’m honestly surprised he even talks to me, but we were always friends. As much as we could be, given the circumstances.
Sav looks like he always has—big, brawny, covered in tattoos that are slightly better than mine but still not great. But there’s a softness to him now. In a good way. It’s like he always held so much tension in his body before, and now he can relax, even when he’s sitting here with an obvious look of urgency on his face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, not wasting time with pleasantries.
Sav doesn’t answer right away, and his eyeline flicks to my side, where I can feel Fallow’s warmth close to me.
When I look as well, I notice Fallow seems… off. He’s been weird the whole drive back, but now he looks visibly prickly. I’m not sure why, but he’s eyeing up Savage like he’s a threat, eventhough there’s a dozen other guys around here who look exactly the same.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
I turn to walk toward the room that doubles as my office, not that I’m doing a lot of paperwork. I can feel Sav following behind me as well as Fallow, and I’m hit by a wave of curiosity about how these two will interact.
I’m the first one to step into the room, then Sav, but before Fallow can enter Sav starts to close the door between them. Fallow catches it with his hand, and even though neither of them has said anything to the other yet, the air between them is suddenly crackling with tension. Not the sexy kind, either.
“Alone,” Sav snaps.
I can’t help but let out a soul-deep sigh.
“Look, it’s a long story but believe me when I say there’s no point trying to keep him out. He’ll either tunnel in here if he wants to or walk away to go cause chaos somewhere else. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on him, which means we’re joined at the hip for a while.”
Sav looks between us, laconic as always, but mistrust clear in his expression.
“Who is he?” he asks.
“Who the fuck are you, cunt?” Fallow snaps back, testy for absolutely no reason.
