Page 25 of The Fire Went Wild

I glare at him as I swallow my food “You just told me my best friend, whom I thought youkilled, is not only alive but safe and didn’t see fit to tell me that. How do you think I feel?”

His eyes get a little stricken. “Not the right question,” he mutters.

“Shut the hell up.” I scrape out the last of my étouffée, spear the last few bites of my salad. Eating is the only thing that makes sense to me right now. Well, eating and drinking the rest of my extremely-full glass of expensive red wine.

Jaxon watches me in silence. I can feel his eyes on me, hot and burning. I don’t care. I finish my meal and then drink the wine, a little too fast. It’s already starting to go to my head. The chandelier’s pale glowing glass seems a little brighter. The dead animals on the wall seem to breathe.

And Jaxon is looking a little too handsome for a psychotic killer.

It’s a good feeling, warm and dreamy. Better than anything I’ve felt in the last twenty-four hours. And especially the last five minutes.

Jaxon clears his throat. I snap my gaze over to him, daring him to say something annoying.

Instead, he says, “I’m sorry your friend didn’t contact you.”

It’s weird, how sincere the words are. He stands up, his strong body unfolding from the heavy wooden chair.

“Why wouldn’t she?” I say. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

He considers this for a long time. God, his eyes are so blue. As blue as the Pacific Ocean.

Then he says, “She’s probably trying to keep you safe.”

He sounds like he means it. And I wonder where she is. What she’s doing.

I’m trapped in this nightmare house, and I’m not any closer to finding out what happened to my best friend.

I stand up, bringing my wine with me. Jaxon doesn’t launch himself at me or tackle me to the floor, though. Instead, he clears the space between us with two easy steps, his arm circling around my waist. “Come on,” he says softly. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

I laugh, my voice shrill. “Thought you can’t kill me.”

He doesn’t say anything as he leads me out of the dining room.

CHAPTER TEN

JAXON

I’m pretty sure I told Charlotte too much about Edie.

It was a fun little game, though, and I want to keep playing it. The back and forth between us—it almost felt like a conversation.

I take her into the den in the back of the house, where I don’t have any offerings to my gods set up. I saw how she looked at the offerings in the parlor, and I need her to stay focused on me.

“What are you going to do?” she mutters as we step into the room.

“Talk some more.” I sit her down on the sofa. She slides back into the cushions, wine sloshing around in her glass. Maybe I shouldn’t have let her drink so much. Or maybe it’ll make her more likely to play the game.

“Talk?” She scoffs and takes a long sip of wine.

I stay standing, kind of towering over her. She peers up at me through her lashes, her lips stained red from the wine. I force myself to focus.

“Don’t you want to find out more about Edie?”

“You’re not going to tell me anything.” She sounds annoyed, but I know she’s afraid of me. She puts on this mask that she’snot, the way she talks back to me like she’s trying to goad me into something. The wine just makes her even more bold. But I can smell her fear beneath her false courage, sweet and dark. I can see the way her eyes dart around like she’s looking for an escape.

It doesn’t matter. I move faster than her. I’m stronger than her. She’s lucky I can’t kill her.

You’re lucky you can’t kill her.

---