Page 14 of Touch

“Nothing. Nowhere,” he imitates. “Not good enough.”

Marvelous. He’s as obstinate as she is.

To Love’s dismay, she still cannot decipher what he’s feeling. However, his expression speaks volumes, flashing with ambition. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Deals are untrustworthy,” she hedges.

“And you’re apparently unsafe to be around. Yet here we are.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“You’re right, because I like what I see. Call me a masochist, but I want more time to soak it up before letting go.” He moves closer, his shadow touching hers. “You’d like me to pretend I never saw you? At this point, you’ve ruined that option. But for you, I’d be willing to try just about anything. Providing you try something else with me first.”

She frowns. “Such as?”

“Midnight,” he murmurs. “Give me until midnight with you.”

5

Despite all the reactions she can have, Love shouts with laughter. A derisive shriek of absurdity, which travels through the evergreens.

When she’s finished, Andrew raises his brows in amusement. “I never thought rejection could sound attractive.”

Instantly, Love sobers. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You have plans to prey on someone else?”

“Eventually, but not tonight.”

“That’s a relief. After all, you said I was special. I want this dangerous thing to be exclusive.”

Not funny. “You take this situation far too lightly, mortal.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Andrew remarks. “But calling me a mortal confirms you’re anything but.”

“You might say I’m a fantasy,” she evades. “Leave it at that.”

“A fantasy, are you? I have some experience there.” The mortal rips a dead twig from an overhead branch and traces from Love’s profile down to her shoulder, the audacious path he takes making her shiver. “Laughter that sounds like a wind chime, flawless features, apparent superpowers, etcetera, etcetera. But if you had wanted to decimate me, you would have done it by now.”

From his perspective, this is accurate. She could have impaled him when they met. And although Andrew had proven himself capable of taking on Griffin and that stooge of a sidekick, Love could have allied with those men instead of siding with this human. Andrew is perceptive enough to draw this conclusion.

Yet he’s the true enemy and must be dealt with. Sooner rather than later. If not by her, then by her people.

She snatches the twig from his fingers and retaliates by sketching his form, pushing the gesture farther and skimming his waist. “Consorting with me is perilous in other ways.”

Andrew’s visage glitters as she reaches the tight ledge of his ass. “Lack of exposition. Heightening the stakes,” he summarizes as if this is a game. “You might be worth the risk.”

“You’re careless.”

“You’re tempted.”

Damnation. This cocksure mortal is right.

Andrew has already poisoned her. According to The Stars, the effects won’t get worse by keeping the enemy close, for she cannot catch this virus twice. Moreover, she has already decided to find out more regarding this man before warning The Court about his existence. This is a vital opportunity, not to be flippantly dismissed.

The sun sets early in the winter, yet the crystalline light is mystic and soothing. Rustling from overhead causes something miniature, likely a pebble, to tumble from the boughs. The arched bridge creaks beneath their boots, and veils of shadow darken.

If the prospect of indulging with this human thrills Love, she ignores it. She flings the twig to the ground and moves to strip out of his coat. “You’ll freeze in that jacket.”

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