Page 49 of To Stir a Fae's Passion

She signaled him to walk farther into the house with her. Once satisfied they were out of earshot, she said, “I don’t think you should trust him. He seems insincere.”

Basil blinked, jerked back his head. “Why would you think that?”

“I…” She closed her mouth, gritted her teeth. What could she say to convince him? “I’m just not sure he’s telling the truth.”

His brows drew together. “Everything he’s said so far rings true to me. He knows all these things about me, my family, and my past. And it makes sense.”

“I don’t think he is who he claims he is.”

“Okay, so who do you think he is?”

Again, she opened her mouth only to close it again. She huffed out a breath. “I don’t know. Someone with ulterior motives. Not someone who’s on your side.”

“Do you know him?”

She suppressed a sound of frustration. “No.”

“Then how do you know he’s false?”

“I don’t, not for sure. He just…rubs me the wrong way. It’s a…gut feeling. I sense he’s not being truthful with you, and I think you shouldn’t assume he has your best interests at heart.”

The hypocrisy of her argument slammed into her with the force of the rock she hurled at the flesh-eating fae. Dear Fates, could she be any more duplicitous? She had no right to cry foul at whatever trickery Calâr had planned, considering her own nefarious agenda.

Her breath stalled, threatened to choke her for her deceit. Darkness crept in from the edges of her vision. Exhaustion settled over her like a mantle of stone, and suddenly she had no strength left to argue with Basil.

She shook her head, closed her eyes, her voice thin. “Just be careful with him.”

“Hey.” He cupped her cheek with one hand.

She looked at him, and drowned anew in the finely sculpted beauty of his features, the warmth of his concern for her.

“I’m not discounting your warning,” he said, his voice velvet over her raw senses. “Right now, he’s my best shot at claiming my powers, but I’ll keep my guard up around him, okay?” His thumb caressed her cheek.

She nodded. He dropped his hand, and she wanted to snatch it back up, lay it on her cheek again so she could snuggle into his touch.

“But,” Basil went on, “is he right about the true name thing?”

“It’s possible, yes.”

“Every fae has a true name? You, too?”

“Yes.”

A small smile played about his lips. “I’d love to know yours.”

She bristled, straightened. “It’s secret. You don’t ever tell anyone else your true name.”

“Why?”

“Like Calâr said, it holds all of your power. It is strong, age-old magic, and it could—” Pieces clicked together in her mind, and she gasped.

“What?”

“Basil,” she whispered, “be very careful with Calâr. Knowing a fae’s true name gives you power over that fae. He might be trying to learn your true name so he can control you.”

He blinked in surprise, then frowned. “What for?”

“I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”

---