Page 96 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Lottie. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

His voice is stern but uneasy. I suppose I did literally just pull a one-eighty. Going from blissfully doe-eyed to running in terror.

Sucking in gasping breaths, I steady my racing pulse.

“They found me.”

“Who found you?”

“The media. There were paparazzi back at the Ugly Mug. I don’t know how they found me or knew where I was, but they were there. They took our picture. I have to leave.” My words rush out in a panic.

I’m pulling on Hunter’s sleeve, trying to get him to move, to go. He loosens his hold enough that I can break free andscramble into the passenger seat of his truck. Slamming the door, I don’t bother with the seat. I slide down to the floor and huddle, making myself as small as I can so no one can see me from the outside. It’s not the first time I’ve had to hide like this, but I had hoped I never would have to again.

So much for wishing; I should have known I could never escape them. They’re vultures. They’ll find me anywhere. As soon as I get an inkling of happiness or normalcy, BAM! They show up just in time to destroy it.

I hear Hunter get into the driver’s seat and lock the doors. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on my current position on the floor. He just starts the truck and pulls out of the parking lot, hopefully heading somewhere with an underground bunker.

I don’t look at him or speak to him while he drives. I just bury my face in my leggings-clad knees and thick sweater, hoping to disappear.

We must have arrived at our destination because Hunter opens the passenger door slowly. He doesn’t try to force me out but coaxes me to unfurl and effortlessly lifts me from the truck floor, cradling me in his arms.

Tentatively, I raise my head enough to look around to see where he’s brought us. There are many trees that look familiar, but the space is far too large and wide to be my little cabin. Swiveling my head around, I see a large two-story house that looks similar to a wood-planked lodge.

“Where are we?”

“This is my house. I wanted to bring you somewhere safe. Where I can protect you from any lurkers wishing to trespass.”

The dread souring in my gut lessons, and I don’t feel nearly as nauseous and panicked. Without me explaining or asking, he brought me somewhere safe without question or hesitation.

I manage a small smile up at him, and he quirks the side of his lips at me.

“You’re not going to lock me in your sex dungeon, are you?”

His lip quirk turns into a full-blown grin, and he winks at me.

“Only if you want me to.”

Maybe I do want him to.

The change in subject has the last embers of my anxiety fizzling out just as he opens his front door and enters his home.

The interior has the same style of décor as the cabin; it’s instantly clear the two were decorated by the same person. Dark wooden floors and rich-colored upholstery and rugs.

Hunter doesn’t set me down in the entryway as I expect him to. Instead, he walks through the open layout of a living room to set me down on one of the largest couches I’ve ever seen. It’s plush and a deep navy blue. Behind us, I catch a glimpse of a kitchen with an island and dining table large enough for at least eight. There’s also a large sliding glass door on the back wall that leads out to a wooden deck filled with outdoor seating, and, I think, a fire pit and bar-b-que.

Hunter sits down at my side and smooths my hair back from my face with a gentle hand you wouldn’t expect from such a large guy.

“Tell me who you saw back in town, Lottie. I need to know so I can personally escort them back to the highway.”

I love that he doesn’t hesitate to take my side. He doesn’t question my freak out or tell me to calm down and stop overreacting. He wants to make it better, not put the blame on me.

I explain to him the clicking sounds and then the men with the cameras, how their skin looked gray, but I had to have seen wrong.

“No, you didn’t see wrong. Those were elves.”

“Elves? You mean the bad elves like Vincent you told me about?”

He growls, and his entire body tenses.

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