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I swipe my tongue over my dry lips, needing to reassess the pieces I’ve put together about him, and I’m still stewing even after he’s disappeared from sight. He caught me off guard once. It won’t happen again.

I shake the confusion away and go to head back inside when something new catches my attention.

I glance down at the front of my pants at where my very, very hard dick is straining against them. Apparently, my entire fucking body has lost it. All because the rabbit lured me into a trap.

Given I’ve spent my entire life making sure that I’m always five steps ahead of my enemy, Sasha catching me off guard should be freaking me out. It should be leading me down the path of tightening control and sharper defenses. It’s happened before, enough times that I know the pattern by now.

Except that doesn’t happen at all.

Instead, my curiosity deepens.

I press my fingers against the tiny cut on my chin, and while my fingers come away bloody, it feels like the wound is already starting to heal. Sasha could have easily sliced my jugular open.

He didn’t.

The same way I failed to kill him.

So now what?

Does this make us allies?

Or was he warning me that he’s not the easy prey that I thought?

I don’t like mysteries or being caught by surprise. And I really, really despise when my body doesn’t react the way it’s supposed to.

Maybe Rooney isn’t the only fae in Wilde’s End. It’s the only explanation I can come up with for why Sasha so easily disarmed me. Why my body went haywire. Why it felt like I’d been caught in a trance and was just as helpless as I was all those years ago.

Hiding. Frozen. Knowing I had to do something but not able to make myself move.

The panic I’d been waiting for slips through.

I’m right to be wary of outsiders.

And apparently, when it comes to Sasha, I need to be even more wary than I thought.

CHAPTER

TEN

SASHA

I’m tired, grumpy, and stressed, but thanks to Lynx, I’m not hungry. Whatever was in that stew he cooked was maybe the greatest food I’ve ever tasted, and if he poisoned me, it would be worth it.

After a long day of working, you’d think I’d be able to fall asleep, but just like last night, I’m cuddled into a ball, blinking into the darkness, too scared to close my eyes.

Jimmity, my stuffed goose, is being strangled in my right arm, while I hold my phone tight under my pillow with the other. It’s more for comfort than anything because the stupid thing barely works out here.

“They’re not going to come back,” I whisper half to myself and half to Jimmity. I’m struggling to believe my own words because when did Antonio and Jeffrey ever give up? There’s no real reason for them to know I’m here, and it was probably a complete coincidence they stopped at all, but just knowing they’ve found my secret little bubble is too much.

They’re close.

I need to get to Portland.

And there’s only one way to do that. My car needs a mechanic, and to get a mechanic, I need Booker to agree to the trade.

I roll over onto my back and yank my blanket up higher. The anxiety that’s been rattling through me all day is holding strong, and I might be coated with sweat under this blanket, but like hell am I going to lie here without it. Like my phone, it’s giving me the illusion of safety, and I’ll take every ounce of that I can get.

As much as I hate working in the fields, I can’t lie and say that I don’t look forward to seeing Lynx. He’s unpredictable, and I hate that I like it, but especially after today, where I so easily lured him in, I’m more curious than ever. Can I do it again? Catch him off guard like that? Make him feel vulnerable for a change?