Page 11 of Dead Weight

I didn’t disagree, but I also wasn’t a werewolf. They had customs and dynamics that were beyond my expertise.

“Why don’t you drop me off at the fork in the road?” I suggested. “There’s no point in driving me home when you’re much closer to yours.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I could use the exercise.” And the space. As drawn as I was to Kane, I was also mindful that this growing attraction between us had trouble written all over it, and I got myself into enough trouble without him. Besides, he had a nightclub to run and assassins to manage, and I had … an endless list of household chores. Hmm. One of us seemed to have a more interesting life than the other. Maybe it wasn’t his charm and smoldering good looks I was drawn to. Maybe it was his colorful life. When you lived long enough in black and white, a speck of gold had to be blindingly appealing.

And by gods was he blindingly appealing.

Kane pulled to the side of the road. “If you’re sure.”

I wasn’t sure about anything, but right now getting out of the car and putting distance between us seemed like the only sane move I could make.

“You look hungry,” he commented. “I could cook us something at my place.” His whisky-colored eyes fixed on me. “And, for the record, I always serve dessert.”

No doubt.

I practically ripped the door off its hinges in an effort to escape from his close proximity.

“We’ll talk later,” I called over my shoulder.

I was fairly certain I heard laughter as he pulled away.

CHAPTER 3

Despite the cold and darkening sky, I didn’t mind walking through the woods. There was beauty everywhere in Wild Acres, from the frosted tree branches to the icicles that hung from them like glittering pendants. I was glad to have worn my boots. The grippy soles kept me upright more than once.

Walking home had been the right decision. If I had taken Kane up on his offer of a meal followed by dessert… Well, we both knew the whipped cream wouldn’t end up on the pudding.

And I wasn’t ready for Kane’s whipped cream.

I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to block the invading images that were so, so tempting.

Little hairs tickled the back of my neck and all thoughts of a cream-covered Kane dissipated. My eyes snapped open.

I wasn’t alone.

That news wasn’t necessarily bad. It could be a family of deer or scampering squirrels, but my increased heart rate suggested otherwise. Sometimes our bodies know before our minds do. I learned a long time ago it was foolish to ignore the warning signs.

Slowly, I lowered my hand to retrieve my dagger.

“I wouldn’t move another inch if I were in your shoes,” a lilting voice said from the gloaming. “Apologies, I meant boots.” He paused. “Are you some sort of laborer? I suppose that makes sense.”

Laborer? Who said laborer in this day and age?

Ignoring his warning, I slid the dagger from its hiding spot. “If you’re looking for Little Red Riding Hood, I passed her about a mile back. Plucky little thing with a toothy grin and a red cape. Can’t miss her.”

“I can hear the mockery in your voice, but I do not understand the jest.”

A visitor from the crossroads. Interesting.

“If you are here to deliver my package, then do so and move on. I have no quarrel with you,” the voice demanded.

I pivoted in the direction of the voice. “Do I look like UPS to you? Trust me, brown is not my color.”

A figure emerged from the shadows. He was tall and slender, with moon-kissed skin and ears slightly pointed at the ends. His eyes were his most remarkable feature—cat-shaped and greener than a blade of grass. He was the definition of a pretty boy.

“You’re one of the fair folk,” I said.

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