Page 81 of Worse Than Wicked
“I very much doubt that,” Baron says. “You’d be hard to miss.”
I don’t like that, but Dahlia doesn’t seem to notice he paid her a compliment.
“On the contrary,” she says. “A moving target is very easy to miss.”
“Can you stay for a while?” I ask. “Even just tonight? I have so many questions.”
“I don’t like questions.”
“Then we’ll just talk,” I say. “Like we used to.”
She’s quiet a moment, frowning down at her glove. Then she darts a glance at Baron. “And him?”
“He’ll keep a lookout,” I say. “He won’t be with us.”
Baron frowns. “How do I know you’ll be safe with her?”
“I’m safer with her than you,” I point out. “She’s never hurt me.”
“I’m not used to playing errand boy,” he grumbles, but he starts the car. I halfway expect Dahlia to slide out and disappear into the dark, but she doesn’t look at all concerned to be in a moving vehicle with us. A few minutes later, we pull up at Summer House and climb out of the car.
“Is the other one in there?” she asks, nodding to the house.
“Duke,” I say. “Yes, he’s home.”
“Tag, you’re it,” she says reaching out and brushing one knuckle against my shoulder. “I’ll see you there.”
She hoists her small backpack higher, turns, and cuts a diagonal across the lawn towards the woods.
“What was that about?” Baron asks.
“It means I have to bring snacks,” I say, smiling after her. She still remembers. She probably never wondered if I was a figment of her imagination.
“I can see why she made a lasting impression on you as a kid,” Baron says, watching her cross the section of the back lawn we can see from our vantage point before she disappears into the forest.
“Seems like she made an impression on you too,” I mutter.
He grins. “Are you jealous?”
“Do I have a reason to be?”
“Mabel Darling,” he says, stepping forward and brushing his fingers up the side of my neck. “I’m yours until they put me in the grave. And even when I’m buried in the ground, I’ll still be yours. And you will be ours.” He slides his hand behind my neck and draws me close. “Don’t let that girl tell you otherwise. I’d hate to have to kill her. She’s a rare one. But you… You are one of a kind.”
“What kind am I?” I whisper, searching his eyes.
“Mine.” He leans in and presses his lips to mine, firm and quick, like a stamp. His seal of ownership is on me like a brand I carry while I check in on Seeley and Duke—both sleeping—and pack a few snacks and a thermos of sweet tea.
At the back door, Baron grabs me by the throat and pulls me in, planting another kiss on my lips and pushing a flashlight into my hands. “Don’t forget what I said,” he tells me. “And if you hatch some plan to kill us, just know, it will fail. And things will be very unpleasant for you afterwards.”
I shiver in his grip.
“For how long?” I ask.
“You saw Jane,” he reminds me.
My stomach turns at the memory of what I saw, the emaciated skeleton of a girl. She probably manipulated me to getaway, but I don’t mind. I don’t care if she was lying, if she was too thin to carry a pregnancy. I would have said anything to get out of that situation too. And I would have tried to get her out even if she hadn’t said that. I just wish I could have foreseen that Baron would follow Duke and check up on her. I’m afraid I didn’t do enough to save her, that she’s dead anyway.
“I’d kill myself before I suffered through that,” I whisper against Baron’s lips.
