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Malakai’s eyes never leave mine. “The rites have order.”

“Cup. Table. Mask. Hunt. Revel. Blood. Sowing.” I say.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“The old texts describe the Tiller preparing the Earth before the final rites.”

My stomach flips.

“Preparing it how?”

“We never knew.”

Rhett’s eyebrows rise. “I have theories.”

Ezra and I say, “Shut up,” at the same time.

Rhett looks genuinely wounded.

Malakai steps toward me. “The Harvest wants us in the south field.”

“How do you know?”

“I can hear it.”

“What’s it saying?”

He hesitates.

“Kai.”

His eyes darken. “Bring her to the Earth.”

My entire body shivers and damn near quakes at his words.

Fuck.

Ezra sees it. “No.”

His voice cracks like a whip. “You aren’t taking her anywhere.”

Malakai turns and looks at Ezra with murder in his eyes. “She isn’t yours.”

“She isn’t yours either.”

“I didn’t say she was.”

“You don’t have to.”

Something ugly moves between them.

Possessive. Ancient and hot enough that it should not affect me right now.

Unfortunately, my body has abandoned common sense.

“Enough.” I command. “I decide where I go.”