The idea brings with it an immediate sense of panic, and an insistence that he needs to believe what I'm saying.

  “I do want this…” I stress. “I want you. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense, Xeni. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

  He chokes on a watery laugh as he nods, careful not to scrape me with his horns. “Me too. And I’m selfish, Bash. I won’t… I won’t want to let you go.”

  “So don’t.”

  He gives me a smile so sad it forms a fissure across my heart. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Maybe it can be.”

  He shakes his head, nuzzling closer. “This is anything but simple, darling. We can’t let anyone find out. You know what they’ll do to us.”

  “I know,” I whisper, and he tilts his face up to mine. “We’re lucky I plowed into you instead of touching hands like normal people. No one has a reason to look at us there. The marks will be easy to hide.”

  “Do you really think it’ll be okay?”

  I press another kiss on his lips. “I think we’ll make it okay. Together.”

  Xeni

  Steam rolls from underneath the crumpled hood of the SUV. It might as well be a smoke signal out here in the middle of the wilderness. The urge to scream or kick the tires is nearly unbearable, though somehow, I manage. I do, however, allow a lengthy string of pissed-off curses to roll from my throat and feel marginally better afterward.

  My fingers shove through my hair and tug as I close my eye and draw a few long inhales. A rising temper bites at my insides, but it won’t help to let it take over. Losing my head does no good.

  After I’ve quelled the rage, at least for now, I pull my map from the glove compartment. Out here, everything looks the same. Dust, dirt, and the occasional pocket of trees. I’ve not done enough travelling to be familiar with any of the landmarks.

  I glance again at the smoke curling lazily from under the hood, thin gray wisps rising like defeated sighs into the dry air. Driving it had been a gamble from the start, and I lost that bet by a landslide.

  August’s accusation echoes in my head. Self-sabotage, he’d called it. He wasn’t wrong; that part stings with truth.

  But it’s only half the story.

  The other half is messier, tangled in things I don’t say out loud.

  Despite what people think—what they’ve always thought—I’m not the cold, arrogant bastard they paint me as.

  I used to be, sure.

  That fact is well-documented and permanently etched in a history I can’t erase.

  Part of me despises that old version of myself, but the other part misses the freedom that came from that careless attitude. It made everything so much simpler.

  Life is easier when you don’t notice the invisible scales tipping with every choice you make. Good on one side, selfish on the other.

  A quick look at my past shows which way mine would swing.

  Ditching a reliable ride for this wheezing relic felt like another clumsy attempt at tipping those scales back toward something better. A piss-poor penance, maybe, but it was something.

  Karma has a cruel sense of humor, though. My half-hearted bid at redemption has left me broken down with two hundred miles to go. I kick at the gravel, watching dust swirl around my boots as I accept my current situation.

  Stranded, alone, and exactly where I deserve to be.

  My mechanical knowledge is scarce, limited to what I might need to perform my duties. Listening to Sprocket rattle on has given me some boosts here and there, but this isn’t some small gadget she’s invented.

  It’s a whole-ass vehicle.

  The clank from the latch seems louder than it should be, and steam scalds my face as the damaged hood squeals open. I hold it there, staring down at the motor like I have any idea what I’m doing.

  I search for something obvious, some glaring neon sign that points at what’s wrong, but there’s nothing besides rubber belts and dirt caked metal.

  The coolant reservoir is low. That’s the one fucking thing I know for certain, so I fill it with some of my limited water, though it's likely in vain.

  The sun is hot despite the mild weather we’ve had lately, and this half-assed attempt to cool the overheated vehicle is probably pointless.

  After a few minutes, I crank it again. The engine turns over, but it runs hard. Limping it along will only cause more damage, so I drive towards a cluster of trees. I’d rather hide it than abandon it in the open. At least there’s a possibility of coming back to retrieve it.

  After I park between the trunks, my head thunks against the back of the seat.

  My life was never meant to be hard.

  It certainly wasn’t meant to be here, stranded on the side of the road in a beat-up vehicle. Selfishly, I wonder how much simpler it would’ve been if I’d just followed that predetermined path that had been laid out before me.

  I wouldn’t be staring at a plume of smoke or facing a two hundred mile walk to complete an impossible task.

  Entering the city without detection will be difficult enough, but finding him when he doesn’t want to be found? That’ll be damn near impossible.

  Bash was always too smart for his own good.

  Me, though?

  Luck and charm have long been my tools of trade. The first has failed me, and the second is worthless out here among the dust. What should’ve been a straightforward drive is now a days-long walk, and there’s no point in delaying the inevitable.

  I unlatch the door, and a whoosh of balmy breeze offers relief from the unbearably hot air trapped inside the vehicle. The hatch needs some encouragement as it shrieks open, and I appraise my supplies.

  Water is an obvious choice. I fill several bottles and load them into the backpack, then tuck my uniform around them.

  Loath as I am to wear the damn thing, it’s necessary.

  I grab another change of clothes, along with extra pairs of socks and underwear, then pack the empty spots with enough food to last me a few days. My fake ID and what little coin I have are shoved into a side pocket.

  As I’m getting ready to close the back, my attention locks on something else. I stare at my shaving kit for far too long before grabbing it and cramming it inside, and slam the hatch with another of those loud squeals.

  The bag is heavy as I sling it over my shoulders, but not impossibly so. I step out of the cover of the trees and shield my face as I glance up at the blinding midmorning sun. It’s hot, but the temperature is slowly lowering. Winter is coming, and the night will offer some relief. I suppose I should be thankful for that.

  The road is too dangerous, so I chart a course through the dirt instead. I stay close enough to follow the path, but far enough to be missed by passing drivers. Raiders would be unfortunate, military more so, but right now, I’m alone. Dust is already forming grit on my skin and sweat trickles down my spine as I heave a long sigh and head due south.

  Darkness has fallen, and with it, the promised cooler night air. I step carefully, studying the terrain as I walk. Compared to humans, species from our side have heightened senses, though I can’t see in the dark nearly as well as Elas or Ronan. They are predators down to their very bones.

  My kind relies on our cunning instead of brute strength. We aren’t prey—not even close—but predators of a different sort.

  In the months since I lost my eye, I’ve had to adapt. At first, my vision wanted to double when my brain was searching for input from something that no longer exists. Weakened peripherals on my left side are a disadvantage, but I’m adapting to the new reality.

  I can see well enough as I dodge holes and avoid rocks or roots that might trip me. A rolled ankle won’t do me any favors out here, so I stop to rest on a large rock to plot my course.

  The expanse ahead of me is filled with brambled underbrush, and I chew on the inside of my cheek as I survey how far it spreads.

  The plants are low to the ground, but their briars are needle sharp. Unfortunately for me, they form a thorny blanket as far as I can see. Unless I want to add a few extra miles to my already exhausting trip, I’ll have to stick to the road.

  Not ideal.

  My mind wanders as I walk, trying to distract myself from the ache in my feet. As best I can tell, I’ve walked at least twelve miles so far. I’m exhausted, but I need to get further before I stop to rest for the night.

  The rumble of an engine pulls me out of my head. Lights crest the horizon behind me and cast my long shadow over the dusty terrain. The flat expanse is endless around me. No rocks to serve as a hiding place or trees to offer shelter.

  Not trapped, but stuck in an open arena.

  My ears twitch at the growling purr of the motor. It’s higher pitched than the military vehicles I’m used to hearing, and revs as it gets closer. My hand rests on my knife as I turn toward them.

  A single headlight momentarily blinds me, and I shield my face as the silhouette of a motorcycle comes into view. A man’s frame sits on top of it, and from what I can tell, he’s human.

  He twists the ignition and plunges us into a stark silence.

  “Evening,” he says, rolling the bike forward until the light is no longer shining in my eye.

  My grip tightens on my weapon, and I blink as the green hues clear from my vision. Moonlight gives me enough glow to examine him, and my shoulders loosen a notch. He’s big, but not unmanageable. I could overpower him in a scuffle.

  “Evening,” I answer.

  His eyes make an obvious perusal of my body before landing on my face. “It’s not often you see lone travelers on the road anymore. Run into trouble?”

  His posture is relaxed on top of the bike, and there are no visible weapons on his person. He seems to be low risk.

  I shrug and give him the truth. “Car broke down a ways back.”

  He glances around as if he might find evidence of my abandoned vehicle. “Fixable?”

  “Not by me,” I say with a rueful huff of a laugh.

  His fingers tap on his handlebars. “Where you headed?”

  “Atlanta.”

  “You military?” he asks as he inspects my jeans and t-shirt, then his eyes move to the leather backpack slung over my shoulders.

  My gaze lingers as I try to interpret his expression, but it’s frustratingly blank. “Used to be,” I settle on.

  He leans closer, and the glow from the headlight reveals a deep pitted scar on his right cheek. Frizzy, sandy blond hair is pulled into a knot on top of his head, and stubble covers the line of his jaw. There’s a flare of heat he doesn’t hide as he examines me with the same scrutiny.

  When he finally breaks the silence, he nods southeast. “I’m headed towards the city. Staying in a place a little outside. I can’t take you there for safety reasons, but I could get you within twenty miles of the gates. It would save you a lot of walking.”

  “That it would,” I agree warily.

  This isn’t charity, and he isn’t offering out of the goodness of his heart.

  “What will that cost me?” I ask.

  His eyes dart down my frame again before locking on mine. “You can be creative with your offer,” he says with a shrug. "I’m not picky.”

  My stomach tightens at the implication, though I keep my face neutral.

  “I’m not fucking you,” I say, leaving no room for argument.

  A smirk pulls onto his lips, tightening the scarred skin on his cheek. “There are plenty of other ways to please a man, pretty.”

  My mouth opens, ready to turn him away out of sheer stubbornness. But my feet ache, and he could get me there in hours instead of days.

  “Five miles, not twenty,” I say. “You’ll get payment when you deliver me and not a moment before.”

  Thick fingers drag over his chin as he gives me another assessing sweep of his eyes.

  He jerks his head behind him. “Climb on, then.”

  I tighten the straps of my pack as I mentally prepare myself for being shoved against his unfamiliar body for the next few hours. My leg swings over the motorcycle, keeping what distance I can between us.

  He glances over his shoulder at me. “I won’t bite unless you want me to, pretty. Hang on so you don’t fall.”

  My teeth clench as my arms ring around his middle. His back is broad and shoulders wide, and I have to scoot close to get comfortable. Pine soap dulls the strangeness of having someone’s scent in my nose, and I’m thankful he’s clean.

  He chuckles, amused but not unkind. The engine revs and I squeeze his waist to keep from flying backward. Wind whips through my hair, and my feet throb from walking all day, but eventually, I settle.

  The night passes in a blur, and the light pollution of the city appears as a glow. Buildings come into view, nothing more than shadowed silhouettes on the faint orange dawn that licks at the horizon.

  The bike slows as he pulls into a small cluster of trees, and my legs tingle from being in the same position for so long. Blood circulates as I climb off the back, causing pins and needles in my hands and feet.

  Silence permeates the air as he kills the engine, interrupted by a metallic squeak as he uses his boot to shove the kickstand in place.

  He steps closer, sliding his tongue over his lips. “You sure I can’t fuck you, pretty? I’d treat you right.”

  A bulge presses against the front of his pants, and he grunts when he sees me looking.

  “Sorry,” he says as he adjusts himself with a sheepish shrug. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone else’s hands on my body.”

  I understand that sentiment all too well.

  “That wasn’t the deal,” I respond.

  He nods with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess not. The good news for you is this won’t take long.” His flirty grin is almost bashful as he waits for me to make the next move.

  I force a practiced smile and watch his eyes hood as I approach. Even with the scarring on his face, he’s handsome. Maybe not kind, but not cruel, and in this world, it’s good enough.

  I could enjoy this if I wanted to.

  Could appreciate the warmth of someone else’s skin on mine, even if it was only transactional.

  But as I consider the possibility, bile climbs my throat. My hip aches, rebelling at the thought.

  Alone tonight, then.

  I should be used to it by now.

  “Back against a tree,” I command in a quiet purr, and he groans as he takes a few backward steps and leans against a trunk. “What’s your name?”

  His throat dips in a swallow. “Jacob.”

  “Well, Jacob, what are you waiting for? Show me what I’m working with here.”

  A low groan leaves him as he works his button loose and unzips his jeans. Instead of pushing them down, he pulls his cock from the opening and gives it a slow stroke. He’s so hard his head pushes out from his foreskin, and a vein stands out along his length.

  Judging from the way he’s weeping pre-cum, I could finish him in mere minutes.

  That’s not how it’s going to happen, though.

  Magic swirls in my gut, potent and ready to be unleashed. We’re isolated out here, but I inspect every tree as if someone might be hiding in wait.

  Paranoid, perhaps, but I have to make sure there are no witnesses.

  Few people know the extent of what I can do.

  Even fewer know why.

  I take another step closer, and he releases a throaty moan as I dig my fingers into his hair.

  “Do you like me on my knees for you?” I ask, and intention oozes from my voice as he whines again, snared in my web like a fly. “Look at me down here. Tongue out. Knees dirty.”

  “Oh, shit, that’s nice,” he murmurs as his eyes close.

  “My lips are so tight, aren’t they?”

  He gasps quietly as he rocks forward, his voice breathy. “Yeah… fuck, yeah.”

  “Fuck my mouth, Jacob. Feel my throat open for you.”

  “Gods, that’s so good,” he moans.

  His hips snap faster, creating a rhythm to match the picture in his head. His dick bounces and bobs as he thrusts into the air, his breathing increasing until he’s panting.

  Power siphons from my gut, shaking my hands and turning my knees to jelly. I haven’t used this much of my magic in a long time, but I grit my teeth and concentrate.

  “You’re so close, aren’t you?” I ask.

  He thrashes his head in a nod as he fists the denim of his pants.

  Another deep breath fills my lungs as I force the sultry purr to stay in my voice. “You don’t want this to end, but you can’t hold on any longer. You’ve used me so good. Chapped my lips and left me sloppy. You’re desperate to come down my throat.”

  “Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, I wanna come.”

  Sweat beads on my forehead as I fight not to sway on my feet. “Good… that’s good. Stop holding back and give it to me.”

  His next moan is lower, more helpless, and his spine arches as he comes. Thick ropes of his release shoot into the grass as his cock pulses with the beat of his orgasm.

  My vision goes spotty as I let him go and step back. My skin is clammy as I swipe my hand over my face, and I steady myself with a few deep breaths.

  Jacob’s eyes refocus on me with a blissed-out smile. “Godsdamn, pretty,” he mutters as he slumps against the tree trunk. “That might be the best head I’ve ever gotten.”

  “I aim to please,” I rasp with a flourish of my hand.

  He smirks at the scratch in my voice as if he’s the one that caused it.

  ”You sure I can’t convince you to stick around?" he asks, still breathing heavily. ”I’d treat you right.”

  “Duty calls, I’m afraid,” I say as I take a step back.

  A possessive gleam forms in his eyes, but he nods with a deep inhale. He’s putty, in a state of total relaxed bliss as he leans against that tree.

  I turn my back to him and walk away before tossing a wave over my shoulder.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I call.

  He chuckles, but I never look back.

  Bash

  Four Years Ago