“Kiss me,” he said, disturbingly low. It sent a stone plunking into the abyss of my stomach.
The air stilled. Or maybe my lungs had completely solidified as confusion slapped me clean across the face.
He didn’tblink.
“That’s what you said,” he whispered sharply. “What youbegged.” His voice rose.
Every inch of my skin hardened, prickling like wet cement starting to cure. I was really hoping the memory of that night—the Liplock potion, the alcohol, the humiliating moment I asked him to kiss me—had been washed out of everyone’s minds. Turns out, I was painfully wrong . . .
Pogue’s head lifted, the movement enough to make my skin crawl.
“According to you,” he muttered. “Everyone would rather swallow their own tongue than be near me.” Eyes ignited savagely. “But you—you’d rather swallowmytongue. Wouldn’t you?” His words were nothing short of malicious as they paired with a following grin.
Words—what were words?They’d completely abandoned me. Leaving me to stand there, speechless. I was drowning in my own humiliation, and regret. The weight of familiar, oppressing insecurities moving to the forefront of my mind.
No.I’m not doing this . . .
Something shifted. A jolt. The darkness inside me—waking.
My attention snapped toward it, just as something flashed across Pogue’s features. It was focused, unmasked.
His gaze traveled over me. Not just watching butfeeling. Like a slow, sensual caress.
I swear to god. This man and his whiplash emotions . . .
I looked down, following his tracks.
Oh.
Dark, shimmering wisps curled around my arms and torso. Tendrils of white and shadow spiraled off my skin. My magic was surging. And I was glowing again.
“Good,” Pogue said flatly. “Let’s get started.” He turned and strode toward the falls.
I’msorry—what?
Something was seriously wrong with him. And I meant that. Like, seriously, clinicallywrong with him.
One moment he was smiling, then flirting, then plotting my death. It felt like starving in the wilderness and finding a beautiful, steaming plate of food just sitting there, smothered in the promise of nourishment. You salivate. You take one bite. Only to realize, it’spoison. Now you’re on your knees, retching up your insides, internally bleeding out.
That’s the effect I imagine he’d have on most women.
How the hell did he go from verbally tearing me apart to playing composed personal trainer?
“Psycho assmask . . .”I mumbled under my breath. Then dragged my feet behind him.
Pogue halted. Blue eyes pinned me over a shoulder.
“What was that?” he said.
I cleared my throat and casually walked past. “Nothing.”
His face narrowed like he was trying to mentally throttle me.
The woods thickened around us, night devouring what little light was left. The waterfall was close. Its roar was loud and foreboding. Just the forest, the crashing water, and us.
“Uh,” I said, scanning the dark. “So where exactly are we training?”
“Emerald Falls.” His side brushed mine as he took the lead.
