Page 52 of Red Flag, Green Light

Her head jerks off her knees, and her eyes widen in the hazy window reflection. “I forgot.Juice.”

Combing her hair away from her ear, I say, “Don’t worry. I didn’t. And if you run out again, I’ll come back.” I let my fingers graze the shape of her wingbone as they pull through the sunset strands. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, not so long as I’m here.”

Her nose is scrunched when she glares back at me. “Ew.”

Ah. Okay.

“That’s sowhite knightof you. I’m not a damsel in distress. I’ve lived on my own for a perfectly reasonable length of time. I don’t need to be saved. I need to be tormented and taken against my will into the belly of my fears, so I can get over them and become evenmoreself-sufficient.”

Girlie pop, what you need is therapy.

As though I’m one to talk, though, whentaken against my willis repeating on surround sound in my skull. I’m not exactly the biggest fan of any of the dark romance force tropes, truly. They’re a bit, what’s the word? Revolting? Yeah, that. Even kidnapping.

I know. I know.

How can a guy like me with a brand like mine and Jovey’snotbe mega pro kidnapping??

I don’t know. I guess I’d just really like to be the one chosen. Without being the only choice. Or something.

Allthis said, I am still chest-deep in the dark romance community and I am still utterly unable to keep myself frompicturing Ceres…pressed to a wall…in front of me. Flushed and asking for me on command.

Ceres swears, lurching around.

Because my head has just fallen.

Against my horn.

“What are you doing?” she blurts above the roar.

Picking my head up, I bang it a few more times, freeing a succession of shorter honks as well as the illicit pictures roaming about in my skull. “Nothing. Why?”

Her eyes flick from my head, to my steering wheel, to the surrounding parking lot. “You are disrupting the peace.”

“Not my fault,” I declare, straighten, and throw the car in reverse. Peeling out, I tell myself that focusing on the road—so as not to kill the woman I love—will keep me from looking at her and thinking very bad, no good thoughts. Because it is my opinion that even intimatethoughtsshould only be entertained with consent.

Some dark romance author I am, clearly.

Too romantic, me. Not enough ink in my rose-red blood.

It’s incredibly likely that I will not survive Ceres’s comments on my “story” once I get deeper into the plot and the characters have a chance to meet. Just thinking about how I’ll handle her unwittingly rooting for dastardly events between us to occur sends a shudder racing down my spine.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Ceres asks, because she’s a kind, genuine, perfect being whocaresabout others to the point of breaking. Even when theotheris a random guy like me.

I fill my lungs with air. “Absolutely.”

“So, I spill my truth, and you lie to me?”

“Yep.”

She scowls, then forces her attention squarely out the window.

Swallowing something bitter, I say, “Some truths don’t needto be shared, little goddess.”

“In my experience, some truths are hard to hear, but they’re better for the other person if they’re shared. Keeping the truth hidden only serves to protect yourself.”

“And where do you go about thinking that self-preservation isn’t important to other people? I understand you struggle with it, but self-preservation and I? We go way back. Great friends.”

I catch her eyeroll out of the corner of my eye. She says, “You’re kind. As ifselfhas anything to do with you.”

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