Page 39

“Stop that.”

“You’re up to something, female.” His gaze slid to the shed. “What did you take in there?”

“You’re unbelievable. It’s none of your damned business. Why are you here?” I yelled over the wind. “And why do you even care?”

“I assure you, I don’t.” His lips curled.

“Keep telling yourself that, but you’re the one stalking me, not the other way around.” I turned and headed back toward the shed. The sound of Draven hitting the ward surrounding our cemetery when he tried to follow had me grinning, and for some reason—blame it on the fact I’d just towed an unknown dead body into our garden shed and wasn’t exactly myself—I momentarily dropped the ward, letting him through. If he caused me any trouble, I could expel him from the cemetery easily enough.

I heard his feet stomping through the mud behind me, following me back into the old shed. He crowded in after me and shut the door, closing us in together.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re here?” I said as I moved around the box. I slid my phone free and took pictures of the symbols painted on the sides.

“I like to keep a close eye on my enemies,” he said, but there wasn’t the same anger in his voice as there had been when I first met him or the times after.

I glanced up. He was frowning down at the box, watching as I crouched to get a closer look. I studied the markings more closely. “Is that…”

“Blood,” he finished, and scented the air.

Some of the symbols were painted in blood.

That wasn’t good.

He moved closer. “What’s inside?”

I should probably keep it to myself, but it wasn’t like he’d go and rat me out to my family. He hated all of us. “A body…well, bones.”

His gaze sliced to me. “What evil have you been up to, witch?”

“You think I did this? That I killed someone, buried them, then dug the body back up and brought it into this shed to…what? Reminisce?”

He didn’t answer, just stared at me, which was answer enough. “If you must know, the bones are old. A tree fell over in the storm and this box was under it.” I snapped another photo to study later. “I’m sure you won’t believe me, but I’ve never killed anyone. Can you say the same?”

“If I killed anyone, they deserved it,” he said in his low, gritty voice.

I scoffed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” he demanded.

I shrugged. “Only, you’re not exactly the best judge of character. I wouldn’t be so sure they did deserve it.”

He crossed his arms over his scarred chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing. “I am.”

“If you say so.”

He moved, it was subtle, but it brought him closer to me. “You’re the one with poor judgment, little witch.”

“You would say that, you hate me.”

“I say that because I’m in here with you alone, in the middle of the night.” His voice had dipped lower still, and it set off tingles in my belly. “No one even knows you left the house.”

He was trying to scare me. It wasn’t going to work. “I’m not worried. If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it already.”

“Maybe I like to play with my prey,” he said, eyes growing brighter.