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He also returned to the couch, but without sitting down.

“Other people's problems are exciting,” he began before taking another sip. “Take it as a compliment.”

I snorted.

It was definitely not a compliment when it reminded me how miserable my life was.

“So... what's stopping you from just texting her?” He sought my gaze. “Come on.” He raised his glass in my direction. “Women like it when you're straightforward.”

He already knew so much that it was unnecessary to hide the sordid details from him.

“She's a student... here.”

Miles pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes.

“Ooh,” he let out, as if in considerable pain, and shook his head. “Harlow will grill you over an open flame.”

“I'm less worried about Harlow,” I laughed dryly. “J is human.”

That was the problem.

I wanted her, wanted to be there for her, wanted to leave this crap behind, and would even prefer a human life with her over this. But I couldn't fail my parents. They deserved justice.

A life with someone like me wasn't safe for J. Juie Blair was the nerve-wracking proof of that, and just one of the many dangers that came with a human stumbling into the world of the supernatural.

“J...” Miles mumbled, curling his lips and raising his eyebrows as he scanned my collection of old maps from my expedition to Ecuador.

“She's a human being on this damn island, Miles.”

He shook his head, examining more artifacts on one of my bookshelves.

“You're paranoid if you think anything could happen to her, unless she's one of those joggers with a death wish who venture into our family woods.”

I had buried that concern weeks ago. J was human, but she was neither reckless nor stupid. She would obey the curfew and spend her nights with her pretty little nose stuck in books.

But what did she do during the day when she wasn't studying at Vanderwood? Who did she meet? And above all, where?

“She's friends with a Quatura,” I gritted out.

Miles turned back to me and raised an eyebrow.

“Now this is getting interesting,” he laughed quietly. “Do we know this Quatura?”

“A damn Blair,” I huffed, my eyebrows automatically sliding together as I stared into the void with determination.

I hadn't actually wanted to tell him about the Julie situation because I didn't want to give another supernatural being in this town clues about one of my biggest vulnerabilities.

There was no guarantee I could trust him. He ran around with throwing knives and most likely fed on living humans in violation of the treaty.

“Where does this hatred come from?” he asked with interest, and I scrutinized him.

“It's something personal. Not worth mentioning.”

“Personal things are always worth mentioning,” he replied amused.

I looked up, looked him straight in the eye, and hoped he could see that he was pushing my limits.

Miles raised both hands, including the whiskey glass. “Okay, okay, fine, Mr. Mysterious.” He turned on the spot and strolled over to my sideboard to hold his finger under the trickling water of the decorative fountain like a curious five-year-old. “You said Blair?” He wouldn’t let up. “Grace Blair?”