Page 32 of In the Shadow of a Hoax

“How did we get here,” she asked.

He grinned at her.

“Stop smiling. I don’t like it,” she told him.

He didn’t reply, continued smiling, and walked toward her, his steps so light she couldn’t hear the crackle of pebbles she knew were supposed to be there under his boots.

She blinked, disoriented, and Ollie was suddenly standing before her, and she was standing with him. She wasn’t sure when she’d stood. When had his shirt gone missing? She thought she should step away and comment on his missing shirt, but instead her body propelled her forward. “Where are your bruises?” she asked.

He lifted his hands and slid them over his chest as if looking.

Her mouth dried out and her tongue thickened, and on impulse, she reached out and touched his chest, tracing the trail he’d made with his own hands. Moving around him, she slid her hands over the width of his back. His skin was smooth, supple, and the need to feel more of it kept her hands in place.

Ollie faced her, grabbed her hands, and slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders, wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck. “Kiss me,” he ordered. His words were a growl near her mouth before his lips met hers, his hands tangling in her hair.

Her heart slammed against her rib cage, his mouth igniting new sensations inside her like that dancing fire. While she should have put an end to it, her curiosity won out, and she grasped his shoulders, rose onto her toes, and kissed him back. She slid her hands into his hair and his arms, having moved to hold her against him, tightened in response. He exerted pressure on her, a gentle coaxing. She arched her back against him, and his mouth dropped to her neck. When his tongue swept against her skin, she moaned, the sound reverberating through her, around her, loosening the plaster that held her together. Her insides liquified.

“Tarley,” he said against her neck. “I need you.”

She liked the sound of her name in his voice.

He pulled back, searched her eyes, then smiled, showcasing his fangs.

Fangs?

She tensed. “Wait. What?”

With a feral sound, he descended, sinking his teeth into her neck.

She gasped, and her eyes flew open.

“Tarley?”

She was still on the rock near the river. The sun was lower in the sky, golden light filtering through tree leaves, casting longer shadows.

Ollie, leaning over her, straightened. “You fell asleep, and I got dinner.” He held up four fish, beaming.

“I slept?” She sat up with start. How could she have fallen asleep? The dangers!

“Yes. So soundly that when I looked over, you were drooling.” He grinned, then laughed when she wiped her mouth.

Tarley scrambled from the rock. “It will be dark soon.” She grabbed the pole from him and collected the tack before staring through the woods, unnerved that she’d let her guard down so easily. “Are your ribs feeling alright?”

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

He was quiet for a beat, then said, “Responsible. Efficient.”

“Anything less means starvation and death.” She glanced over her shoulder. “But then maybe a rich man wouldn’t understand that.”

“You bring that up a lot.”

“You being rich?”

“Yes.”

“When you grow up with nothing…” Tarley let the unsaid finish her thought.

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