Page 12 of Twisted Devotion

Right. Maybe for him. He bailed when it came time to actually fight, leaving the rest of us to risk our lives for the entire fae race. I don’t want to be resentful, but he’s very clearly reaping the benefits of the takedown every day the facility rakes in more cash.

“What do you do in your spare time?” he inquires.

“What spare time? We just ended a battle. Spare time has been non-existent for over a year, Jackson.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame. What would you like to do with your spare time? Granted you had some.”

I press my lips together, allowing myself a minute to think about it. I’m not sure opening up to Jackson is a good idea. This is a temporary assignment, and him knowing things about me won’t help me do my job. After a few beats of silence, I finally resolve to tell him, “I like interior design. Not sure that’s what you mean, though.” Watching HGTV was a nightly routine in my last foster home, and since then, I’ve tried desperately to hold on to the happiness of those memories as opposed to the horror that followed.

He shrugs. “Sure, if that’s what you like.”

I nod. “Did you design this place?”

His lips twitch. “I did, actually. Are you impressed?”

“Hmm, it’s a little over the top for my tastes, but the elegance is certainly there.”

He laughs, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“One thing I can promise is that I’ll always give it to you straight.”

“Huh. Then I suppose I’ll have to do the same for you.”

“Do what you want, Jackson,” I tell him lightly. “I’m just letting you know, you’ll always know where you stand with me.”

“How am I doing so far?”

When I blink at him, he laughs again.

“Got it.” He takes a long drink of his coffee then sets down the empty mug. “You may not like me now, but I guarantee by the end of our time together, you’ll be head over heels.”

I almost choke on my coffee. “What?” I croak.There’s no way he just said that. On my first day here.

He smirks. “You heard me, Red.”

Dear lord, he did.I attempt to mask my shock by muttering, “I think that caffeine went straight to your brain.”

“Oh, yeah?” he says with a grin.

I nod, swallowing the rest of my coffee. “Yep.”

“We’ll see.”

“No.” My tone is low, stern. “We won’t.” I get up and push the curls out of my face before walking away.

Whatever game Jackson thinks he’s playing, I’m not. I need to focus on my reason for being here. To protect him. Not to entertain him or be the subject of his—what I can only imagine are sexual—taunts.

Gloria stops me on my way back to my room. “Miss Young, please don’t judge Mr. Hawthorne too harshly. He really is a good man.”

I offer her a small smile, but keep my comments to myself. She knows him differently than I do, and that’s fine, but I’ll make up my own mind about him.

Not that my opinion really matters, anyway. Right now, the only thing that matters is keeping him alive.

And he’s already testing my resolve not to kill him myself.

5

Ispend the rest of the morning and early into the afternoon lounging on the couch in my room. It still feels weird to think of it asmy room, but I’m not an idiot. I can appreciate the luxury of this place, even if the work I’m here to do is anything but luxurious.

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