Page 37 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

“Yes,” I said. “Totally fine.”

“So you’ll make the fries?”

He was offering me access to the kitchen. Maybe I could make some of my mother’s recipes. And I didn’t have to worry about crossing Einar’s path. On the other hand, Arlo was most definitely on heightened prisoner-sitting duty. As much as I would have liked to think he was interested in ranch-smothered cottage fries, I couldn’t make myself believe it. He probably just wanted me someplace where he could keep an eye on me. But spending the day in the kitchen was better than being cooped up in my room.

“I’d love to,” I said. “As long as you’re okay with ranch.”

Arlo sighed, but his eyes twinkled. “I suppose I can make an exception for you.”

Hours later, I stood at the sitting room window, my gaze on the horizon as the setting sun slipped behind the mountains. My back was sore, flour smudged my shirt, and my cheeks ached from laughing at Arlo’s subtle—and surprisingly raunchy—humor.

We’d worked amicably side by side in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and then an ambitious lunch that included a shepherd’s pie from the recipes in my mother’s notebook.

“Are we calling this shepherd’s pie or hachis parmentier?” I asked, referencing the French version of the same dish.

Arlo gave the layers of ground beef, cheese, and mashed potatoes a critical look. “Hmm, I think it depends on what you’re serving.”

“What do you mean?” I gestured to the pie. “We’re serving this.”

“Oh no, Miss Ward, if you’re using the French pronunciation for a potato casserole, you’re definitely serving cunt.”

Despite my best efforts, Arlo still refused to call me Harper. But he was getting there. We’d parted ways just before dinner, each of us carrying a dinner plate of leftover shepherd’s pie and chocolate chunk and sea salt cookies. Arlo had work to do in the morning, but he’d given me free reign in the kitchen. “Just don’t go outside.”

The latter wasn’t a problem. I shivered as I stared at the maze. If I never met another pair of centaurs it would be too soon.

The last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind the mountains. Movement near the maze’s entrance drew my attention. Goliath stepped from between two hedges, my corduroy jacket in his hand. He tipped his head back, his eyes locking onto me. His teeth gleamed white in his tattooed face as he lifted a hand and waved.

I waved back, my mood lifting at the sight of Goliath’s cotton candy tail curling around his hip. He pointed at himself, then jabbed his finger toward the window, a question in his eyes.

“Me?” I mouthed, touching my chest. He shook his head, then flapped his arms like he was flying. He wanted to come upstairs. I looked at the bedroom door over my shoulder. When I turned back to the window, Goliath was gone. A second later, he stood beside me, a cloud of black smoke rolling around him. It rushed into my lungs, the scent like charcoal.

I spoke between coughs, my eyes watering. “How…do you…do that?”

Goliath waved my jacket around, the chain on his belt loop jingling as he dissipated the cloud. “I’m not sure, really. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t able to morph.” He handed me the jacket.

“Thanks.” I draped the jacket over the back of the sofa. “Is that what it’s called when you disappear and reappear? Morphing?”

Goliath nodded, his stubby horns catching the light. “Vampires can do it, too. I’ve heard rumors of a few witches with the gift, but I’ve never met one. Adina says it’s possible but they’re probably stealing powers.”

“How would they do that?”

“By killing the supernatural with the gift and using their blood in a spell.”

My gut clenched. “Would Adina?—?”

“Nah. Adina’s cool. She doesn’t murder anyone unless they deserve it.”

I frowned. “That’s still not?—”

“I wanted to bring your coat back, but I had another reason for coming.” Goliath tipped his head toward the window. “I thought we might visit the maze again. Myrna finally returned. She feels really bad about scaring you, and she’d like to apologize.”

I looked down at the maze, which now glowed under the light of a three quarter moon.

“Be a good girl and make yourself come.”

Phantom desire curled low in my core. I couldn’t risk venturing near the centaurs again.

I drew a deep breath as I met Goliath’s gaze. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t. With Einar gone, Arlo is in charge. I don’t want to do anything that might get him into trouble.”

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