She seems to realize what she said a minute later, because her cheeks go red.

“Oh, I know. I remember our little swim in the lake quite clearly,” I tell her, loving the tension I feel in her body.

When we crest a hill, there’s a small pavilion with a little fountain. I pull the horse up and tie him to a tree, then help Faye down. Her body slides against mine in the most intoxicating way possible as I bring her down. When her chest brushes againstmine, I tighten my grip on her waist, and I swear I can see arousal in her gaze.

We’re all the way out here. Nobody is around. Just me and Faye. We could truly do whatever we want right now.I start to lean closer to her, intending to offer her anything she wants with me, but she pulls away, moving toward the pavilion.

It’s hard not to be disappointed. None of my usual tricks are working. What’s more, I’m doing things outside of my comfort zone, and they’restillnot working.How can I win her over? What does she want?

She leans down, reading the poem from the plaque affixed to the outside. A poem I was well aware of. “When the world tips from its axis and threatens to end, dare come find me at the lush riverbend.”

When she looks up at me, there’s a bit of awe in her gaze, probably because few people would know about this random poem at a random spot on the castle grounds. I know, to most people, I’m not known for anything but my good looks and tendency for messing around, but when Faye looks at me like this, I have the sudden urge to show her that I’m much, much more than that.

“How did you know that this was here?” she asks, curiosity in her voice.

I could tell her that reading is one of my secret hobbies—that I recognized the poet and the plaque’s location right away, but I won’t. That’s too much information and may lead to more questions I’d rather not answer. I want her to know I’m not a complete dunce, but she doesn’t need to know more than that.

“I like to take walks,” I say, followed by a shrug.

Her eyes narrow, like she doesn’t believe me, but she picks up the little scroll. “Now your hunt is complete, enjoy your lunch treat.”

I turn my attention away from the plaque, gesturing to the picnic laid out in the pavilion for us. “Shall we?”

NINETEEN

Faye

Cayson is looking at me like I’m something he wants to eat. And the thing is, he’s making me feel all kinds of things I haven’t felt before. It’s scary, and exciting. But exciting is basically just another form of scary, so I don’t know how I feel.

We sit down on a blanket spread in the pavilion and start unpacking the food. There are tiny little sandwiches cut in triangles, scones, biscuits, perfectly ripe berries with cream, and tea. Vague memories of me having tea time in town with my friends come back to me. Before The Selection, I hadn’t eaten foods this dainty in a long time. In years.

“Hungry?” he asks, and his gaze slides over me.

Licking my lips, I look away from him and just nod. I’m definitely hungry, but for something that isn’t food. Something I’ve never wanted before. I just can’t stop thinking about the way it feels to have him so close to me on the horse, how easily I can feel his attraction pressed against me.Have I ever made another man feel like that before?I’m not sure, but I knowI’venever felt this way before.

Even now, my body urges me to crawl across this blanket just to get closer to him. To feel the heat from his body against myown. To feel the strange contrast of his hard muscles against my soft body.

Cayson puts a plate out for each of us, which is strangely sweet. I wonder what the hell is wrong with him though. I’ve never known an alpha to serve someone else. I’ve never known one to be kind, or funny, or romantic.Other than Ezra.

Alphas are assholes.

“You have to try this,” Cayson says, taking a little pastry from a plate and leaning across the blanket. I meet his eyes, willing myself to fight against him, but I just open my mouth obediently, and he gives me a bite of the pastry.

“Oh,” I say, bringing a hand to my mouth as a deliciously bitter chocolate flavor bursts over my tongue. “That is good.”

Cayson continues to pick things off the plates, insisting on feeding them to me. A blush rises on my checks and I find myself leaning closer to him.Why is it so nice to be fed? What’s wrong with me?

“Have you had these pastries before?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “They don’t usually make them in my region due to the altitude.”

“Are you in the mountains, then?” And he actually looks curious.

“Yes, Pack Ivory.”

“Pack Ivory,” he murmurs, before feeding me another bite. “That explains a lot.”

“What, exactly, does that explain?”