The first lights make me blink. For an instant, old habits return and I wonder if I’m hallucinating. Bright white orbs float around the little glade, flitting here and there. As they move, they seem to chime softly to one another, and I wonder what they’re saying.

Is it a language? Are they fae?

They never come onto the blanket, but they seem to skirt the edges of it timidly. Not fae then? Animals?

“What are those?” I whisper, almost afraid to disturb the serenity of the moonlit scene.

“Will-o’-the-wisps,” Lore announces, keeping his tone low as well. “They like it near the dead, and they get more active around this time.”

I stiffen as he speaks, realising for the first time what all the stone markers are.

Gravestones.

If I squint, I can just make out the Fae lettering running down them.

Lore brought me on a date to a graveyard? I shiver.

I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about that when he tugs his hat from my head and twirls it until it’s a hooded poncho, which he promptly drops over my head.

“Careful, autumn is chilly,” he chides, as if I should’ve somehow prepared better for our impromptu date. “Now, have you ever played catch the wisp?”

When on earth would I have had that opportunity?

He must read the disbelief in my expression, because he grins. “You’re going to love it, I promise. They’re sneaky, but that’s what makes it fun.” He pauses. “First, though, you have a bargain to keep.”

“I do?” Does that breathy voice belong to me?

Lore nods earnestly as he hooks one finger into the neckline of the poncho and uses it to tug me towards him. His breath—sweet like wine—fans over my face in a warm cloud.

His lips are so close and so soft-looking. When we kissed last time, I didn’t really have time to explore, but now, as his mouth finally descends upon mine, it’s leisurely. Gentle.

Warm hands settle on my hips, keeping me in place as he sucks my lower lip between his teeth and nips it with his sharp fangs, but he’s ever so careful not to draw blood.

I have no idea why my breasts seem to get heavier at the contact. He strokes his tongue across the tiny sting, and I feel an answering pulse much lower in my body. Without meaning to, my arms wrap around his shoulders. My hands find his hair, and I cling to it like he’s my rock in the storm.

I’m not experienced, but Lore’s unique brand of crazy somehow seems to lend me confidence to part my lips and let him in. My tongue sweeps against his, and he groans.

Goddess, that sound. Raw and masculine and full of unashamed want.

I want to make him do that again.

Before I can figure out what I did and repeat it, he takes over, slanting his mouth over mine fully. Then he consumes me.

Lore kisses me until my breath belongs to him and my mind is foggy with desire. My toes curl and my insides burn until I can barely think past the need for him to keep going.

So when his hand drifts upward, from my hips to my waist, hovering in silent question, I moan in encouragement. My back arches in wordless need, and my nipples harden until even the soft lace covering them seems abrasive.

I don’t know what it is my body is seeking, but he does.

His hand continues, stroking up my rib cage until his thumb caresses the underside of my breast.

I break our kiss on a gasp as lightning shoots from the skin that he’s touching, travelling down my spine and straight to my core.

“Pretty little Rose,” he whispers before diving back down to claim my mouth.

But he doesn’t stay there this time. His lips travel across to the corner of my lips, then along my jawbone to my throat.

“Lore!” My voice is so husky I barely recognise it, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he licks and nips the spot just below my ear.