Page 25 of Blood Sweeter than Honey

Even so, there’s no amount of filth that could mask the otherworldly beauty of her features: blue-green eyes that are preternaturally bright, and white canines that possess an unnatural sharpness; the symmetry of her sultry features, the way she seems to have a certain glow about her. An aura, as I imagine someone with an affinity for new-age spiritual woo-woo might call it. I can see why Harlan might be inclined to believe this woman’s story, whatever it is, but I’m under no such delusion.

I’ve been fooled by a pretty face before.

Never again.

I’ve survived and escaped from more than one hell, and am not about to give up my hard-fought peace just to get my dick wet. Even if Harlan clapping me on the back is about the closest I’ve gotten to a woman’s touch in five years.

After twenty minutes of straight silence, I glance over to find Winnow sound asleep. Her head is perched against the window,shoulders slumped forward, and her grip on the blanket has slackened. My gaze drops to the sight of her shredded, blood-soaked dress and the exposed skin beneath.

Oh, fuck.

Guilt plucks at my heartstrings as my own blood-soaked memories resurface in my mind’s eye. My compassion is swiftly muddled by memories of Seraphine, whom I also found in a state not too dissimilar. Unease is a fist around my sternum.

My eyes dart between her and the road, lest I drive us straight into a tree in an attempt to find a wound—the source of the blood.

Harlan’s words echo in my mind.

“She healed, Gideon. She fucking healed. Right before my goddamn eyes.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, the press of my holstered gun digging into my side is a relief.

Fuck me, what did Harlan get me into? I’m gonna be sleeping with one eye open all goddamn night.

The entire way home, my mind reels as to what could have caused Harlan to think he saw such a thing. So much so that by the time we return, I’m exhausted. And thank fuck Levi, Beau, and Gertie’s trucks are all gone, so I don’t have to be bombarded with a thousand goddamn questions.

When my tires reach the gravel of my driveaway—set about 600 acres away from the nearest dirt road—Winnow’s eyes pop open. Wide eyes scan the large gated entrance announcingKincaid Cattle & Agricultural Reserveand beyond, even though we can’t see dick outside of the shine of my headlights.

“How long was I asleep?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

I put the truck in park and climb out to get the mail. It’s not too often I come this way on my property, and I barely ever leave outside of supply runs.

I can feel Winnow’s eyes tracking me as I walk over to the nondescript metal mailbox. The headlights illuminate the pile of letters—mostly junk mail—as I briefly sift through it. My gut clenches when I come across a pink envelope.

After I caught Seraphine cheating on me with Louis Pembroke III,and I was finally able to liberate myself, she begged and pleaded to get back together. She tried to lie and say she was at Louis’s house with her cousin. I didn’t bother to tell her that, after Beau and I finisheddecoratingLouis’ house and her car, I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking around to the back of the house—where I saw her getting railed from behind by this dude.

And I can now say for a fact, the only reason I didn’t do something stupid like ruin my own life is because Beau was there.

Thank fuck for ride-or-die friends.

When I cut her out of my life, she resorted to stalking me. Breaking into my house. Stealing my shit. Threatening and accusing me. I’ve never been one to tattle, but filing a restraining order was my only hope of trying to live a normal, Seraphine-free life.

Now, if she comes within twenty feet of me or my property, she risks going to prison. Hence, the letters. They aren’t signed by her, nor is there a return address, so unless I go to the trouble of testing the letters for her DNA, there’s no way for me to prove they’re from her.

And there certainly isn’t anyone else in this world who’d send me this shit.

So, I do what I always do. I throw them away, hope she finds her peace, and fucking meets someone else.

I only realize I’m scowling, trying to ignore the fucking churn in my gut, when I see the look of anxious concern on Winnow’s face. She probably thinks it’s because Harlan forced her on me,and she’s not entirely wrong, but I can’t help but feel a little pang of guilt.

GIDEON

Trigger takes to Winnow like shit to a shoe.“Get over here.”

Trigger ignores me, dancing in place, tail wagging furiously as Winnow plasters herself against the front door where he’s cornered her.

“He don’t bite.”

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