“Yes.”

  “Do you have… moon fever?”

  “Yes.”

  He looks entirely calm as he says the word, and I’m not sure whether that makes him scarier than I previously thought or simply immune to me. Maybe I’m just not that desirable.

  Ugh.

  “Do you?” he asks.

  I frown. “I don’t think so.”

  His expression is unreadable, and I wonder if he’s questioning our connection too. Maybe our mate bond is weak. Or not real. Or part of this weird curse. Maybe it’s fake.

  Maybe I’m nothing to him; a girl he accidentally cursed at a bar. A mess to clean up.

  “Am I…” I can’t bring myself to voice those fears. Then, I’d have to admit that’s exactly what they are: fears. Because, if I’m being honest, even though I don’t want to claim him, I want him to want me.

  I want to feel desired once before I die, which might just be sooner rather than later.

  “Shifters experience it more intensely,” he says, and I whip my gaze back to his, wondering if he can read my doubts.

  “So, the bear was experiencing this moon fever,” I say, heading back to more solid ground. “And that’s what drove it to attack?”

  He nods, his gaze darting to my hip where the bear slashed at me. “It’ll be over by tomorrow.”

  “Is that why no one else is here today? Because of Februlune?”

  His mouth twists. “It wasn’t safe for them here.”

  “Because of the bear?”

  “Because of me.”

  “Oh.”

  I wait, but he doesn’t say more and it only leaves me with more questions. And more doubts. But I’m not sure how to voice any of them.

  “Why did you want to go to the farmers market?” he asks.

  I hesitate, unsure what to tell him. I can’t decide where we stand or how much to trust him. In this moment, we feel less like enemies and more like awkward roomies, but I have no idea how long that will last.

  “Were you running away?” he asks.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Then what?”

  “I wanted to get supplies,” I admit.

  He frowns. “Is there something else you need? More clothing⁠—”

  “No. It’s… I wanted to get some poisons,” I admit. “More than just the stuff my body’s producing,” I add when he looks confused. “If I’m going to fight the Crimson Roses, I need to be ready.”

  His expression darkens instantly. The awkward roomie vibe vanishes, and suddenly we’re back on opposite sides again. “You are not fighting anyone.”

  “Of course I am. It’s my problem.”

  “You’re safe here.”

  “Safe. Right. Like with the bear?”

  He growls, but I refuse to back down.

  “It’s not just about me. Kendall will never be safe either as long as I have this target on my back. I have to deal with it eventually. And to do that, I need supplies.”

  “And where does killing me fall on your list of things to do?”

  I glare at him.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about bringing them the death dragon in your place?” he taunts. “My life for yours, remember?”

  “I’m still considering it,” I say.

  His lips twitch knowingly. “Fae aren’t supposed to lie, you know.”

  “No, but nymphs can. I have my mother to thank for that gift.”

  “And what would your mother say about me—the death dragon who saved your life?”

  His words land like a blow.

  I look away, fighting the emotion clawing its way through me. My mother… she’d have so much to say about the state of my life. About the mess I’ve made. And yet, I can’t help thinking she’d like Legion. She’d thank him. And tend to his garden. Commune with the magic of this realm. She’d love it here. She’d love him. Someone who could handle my temper and irrational need to argue things to death.

  Seeing him through her eyes hurts.

  Legion says he has this supposed moon fever, but where’s his urgency? His madness? Am I that undesirable that he can just stand here before me looking bored or angry or anything but the way I feel about him?

  Suddenly, it’s all too much. And I refuse to let him see that.

  Without offering him another word, I step around him and into my room. I can feel his gaze following me, but he doesn’t try to stop me as I shove the door closed, shutting him out as far as I’m able.

  Chapter 18

  Tori

  Cleaning off the blood and dirt is easier than healing my aching heart. So, that’s what I do. After an hour’s soak in my giant bathtub, I am starting to come around to the luxury of this place. Not that I will ever admit that to a soul, especially Legion.

  He pissed me off earlier, but our conversation also served as a reminder of one very important fact: He’s my enemy. And I don’t care what he says about this curse, I know he’s the one who cast it. I can’t let myself forget that again.

  Toweling off, I wander back into the bedroom and pull open the wardrobe against the wall. For the first time since arriving, I don’t grab the first thing I see and instead take the time to dig through what’s here. It’s stocked with clothing—some I recognize from my own closet at home and some unfamiliar though perfectly sized. There are even extra gloves and scarves to choose from.

  I also find a hairbrush and various creams in the bathroom drawer, which I try to hate but just can’t. Even if these things were put here for his “other guests,” and even if they were chosen by a fourteen-year-old girl, I’m grateful for the fact that they’re here at all. For the first time in a decade, I’m not the one who has to think of everything.

  I decide right here and now to enjoy the safety this room offers me as long as I can. And to find some way to repay Chaya for letting me have this reprieve. Kendall’s safety and my survival are still mine to figure out, but for now, just this once, I don’t think about any of it.

  I spend the entire afternoon in my room, mostly because it’s the only place I can risk not being covered in layers of fabric. It’s only been days since this curse took over my life, forcing me to cover every inch of my skin or risk hurting the ones I love, but it feels like years. I find myself enjoying the simple sensation of sitting around, exposing my skin to the air.

  Soon enough, I run out of distractions, leaving my thoughts to wander all sorts of dark places. Eventually, I’m forced to leave if only to find more supplies to keep me busy. And food wouldn’t hurt either, as evidenced by my growling stomach.

  After rewrapping my face and donning fresh gloves, I slip out of my room, stopping at Kendall’s door, but after a swift knock and a look inside, I find the room empty. At the bottom of the stairs, Kendall’s voice reaches me from the dining room. Chaya responds, and I start heading that way, hoping to use the meal time to find out more about Chaya and thank her for the clothing and toiletries.

  But before I make it that far, two male voices drift toward me from the opposite direction. Curious, I follow the sound until I reach a set of heavy wooden doors cracked open wide enough to scent cigars and wood smoke wafting out.

  Moving silently, I inch closer, peering through the opening to see Legion sprawled in a large chair. He holds a glass in one hand while the other rests casually on the armrest. His hair is a bit more tousled than I’ve seen, and his expression is relaxed—almost friendly.

  Whoever sits opposite of him says something, and Legion throws his head back and laughs. I stare at him, completely mesmerized. He’s nearly unrecognizable to me, like he’s allowed himself to let his guard down. Something he doesn’t do with me, apparently.

  The stranger across from him says, “Do you believe her?”

  “About my bloodline?” Legion asks, his smile fading as the familiar shadows darken his gaze. “I don’t know.”

  “Does she have a reason to lie?” the man asks.

  “Everyone in Tartarus has a reason to lie,” Legion says.

  The stranger chuckles. “Good point.”

  Legion sips his drink and stares into the fire. I study his profile, admiring the angle of his jaw and the curve of his cheekbone.

  “So, you’re just going to keep her locked up here forever. Pining for her but never touching her?”

  The stranger’s words snap me out of my daydreaming.

  “Go to hell,” Legion grumbles.

  Ditto.

  “And her sister?” the man says. “Two for one?”

  Fury lashing, I shove the doors open, pushing my way into the room so I can face the stranger. His brown hair is thick and messy, hanging over his ears with a bushy beard covering the lower half of his face. There’s a wild streak in his eyes but it doesn’t strike me as dangerous. Then again, my temper considers me the most dangerous thing in the room by far.

  “My sister is none of your business,” I snap at him.

  “Tori,” Legion begins.

  “And you.” I round on him, and he freezes halfway out of his chair. “You don’t own me,” I say. “I will not be locked away here or anywhere. Not by you or anyone. The moment you are not useful to me, I will go.”

  His expression tightens, a dangerous shadow crossing his features. He pushes to his feet slowly, towering over me, though I refuse to step back.

  “You will go when I allow it,” he says, his voice deadly calm.

  Behind me, the stranger gets to his feet. “I’m just going to let you two…”

  I spin to face him, backing away so they’re both within my sights. Removing my scarf is more of a power move than anything—a reminder that I’m lethal and not to be fucked with.

  “Who are you?” I demand of the stranger.

  He looks from me to Legion. I don’t take my eyes off him to see what Legion says, but the man relaxes. “I’m Klyn. I work with Legion.”

  He holds out his hand to shake.

  “Tori.” I smirk and start to take my glove off.

  His eyes flick to the movement. He smirks and withdraws his hand. “Right. Well, I’m going to let you two work this out. None of my business.”

  “If you touch my sister, I’ll kill you,” I tell him.

  “Relax, little fae. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Or my sister,” I press.

  “Or your sister,” he repeats.

  He shoots Legion a look of amusement that has me itching to press a finger to his throat. “Good luck,” he adds and then walks out, chuckling.

  When he’s gone, I turn back to Legion. “Tell me about your bloodline.”

  “No.”

  “Why were you two talking about it and then me and Kendall? What does it have to do with⁠—”

  He stalks closer. Out of instinct, I back away until my shoulders hit the wall, sending a picture cockeyed though neither of us pays it attention. He looms over me, his temper barely leashed beneath the surface. I watch as the storm gathers in his dark eyes.

  It should be scary. On some level, I know that anyone else would find him completely terrifying right now. But instead of fear, I fight the urge to kiss him. To offer him everything I have. To let him take me—in whatever way he wants.

  My breath catches, and I can’t think. Not when he looks at me like this.

  Not when he’s so close.

  His mouth hovering within reach, teasing me.

  Taunting death.

  “You are here because it’s not safe for you anywhere else.” His voice is low, the roughness raking over every inch of my poisoned skin. “You are not free to go. Not until I say it. You are mine until I let you go.”

  “You don’t want me,” I say. “Even if you could touch me, you said you wouldn’t want to. Why are you doing this?”

  His gaze drops to my mouth, and for a harrowing second, I think he’s going to kiss me. His words from the other night ring out in my head. That dying from touching me would be worth it.

  “You are mine to protect,” he says. “Mine to touch or not. No one else’s.”

  His words send a burst of heat straight to my core. I hate that his possessiveness turns me on. I hate that the mate bond has reduced me to this. To him. More than anything, I refuse to let him see how much I want that touch. From him and no one else.

  “Tell me about your bloodline,” I whisper.

  His eyes flash with something I can’t read. He steps back. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, and I know he’s just as affected as I am. Just as frustrated. Just as turned on.

  “No.”

  I glare. “You’re keeping something from me. I want to know what it is.”

  “Whatever I’ve kept from you is none of your business.”

  “Then I’m none of yours either,” I hiss.

  His eyes narrow. “Everything about you is my business.”

  “You don’t get to say I belong to you and then refuse to tell me anything about you.”

  “That’s exactly what I get to do.”

  “Ugh. You’re infuriating.”

  “Right back at you, darling.”

  I stare at him, wildly violent thoughts running through my mind. The idea of choking him to death is particularly appealing right now.

  “I love when you look at me like that,” he says.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you want me.”

  “The only thing I want to do is kill you.”

  He steps closer, his breath warm and delicious against my face. “To attempt that, you’d have to touch me. Does the thought bring you pleasure?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Oh, believe me, I do. I’ve already taken three showers today just to relieve myself of the madness of the moon. I want you so bad I can’t think straight.”

  I blink, stunned.

  “You didn’t seem bothered earlier. You were so calm.”

  “This morning, finding you naked in your bed, I almost took you right there. The moon fever is like nothing I’ve felt. Wanting you is like nothing I’ve felt. But seeing what that bear would have done… the idea of losing you outweighed all else, even the moon fever itself. I can bear anything except losing you.”

  His words untangle me.

  “I want you too,” I blurt before I can take it back. “And it pisses me off.”

  He grins like he’s just won something.

  I scowl. “Don’t look so smug about it.”

  But his smile darkens into desire, and I find myself unable to look away. “Show me.”

  “What?”

  “Show me that you want me.”

  “What do you⁠—”

  “Sit.”

  He gestures to the chair I found him in earlier. Before I can refuse, he crosses to the door and shuts and locks it. I don’t move. Part of me wants to scream and fight my way out. But that part is no longer in charge.

  Before I can stop it, my feet are moving. Walking to the chair. Sitting down. Looking up at him.

  “Take off your shirt.”

  I don’t move, and he strides over, kneeling in front of me. Dangerously close to my bared face.

  “Take off your shirt,” he repeats, his voice low and husky.

  I shiver, feeling the words rake over me.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “I want to look at you.”

  Knowing he can only look and not touch is a heady feeling. A power that makes me feel safe enough to bare myself this way. A challenge that I know he can’t meet.

  Slowly, I peel my shirt over my head.

  But then he pushes to his feet and peels off his own shirt. Dropping it onto the floor, he steps back and takes a seat in the chair across from me. His dragon tattoo gleams, almost as if it’s moving on its own with each new lift of his arm. Firelight dances over his muscled torso, casting shadows along the planes and ridges of his abs.

  I wonder what it would feel like to trace those ridges with my fingers.

  “Now, your pants.”

  His words snap me out of it. I jerk my gaze to his. The same challenge I felt a moment ago is reflected in his dark gaze now.

  Maybe that’s what has me standing and stepping out of my pants.

  My heart thuds wildly in my chest.

  This is crazy.

  I don’t even like him.

  He’s my enemy.

  And yet… I want him to see what he’ll never have.

  I want him to want me.

  “Your turn,” I say, daring him.

  He stands and pulls off his pants then sits again, powerful muscles contracting along his thighs and biceps with the movement. My gaze is drawn to the impressive bulge in his boxers.

  My mouth goes dry.

  “Now, the rest,” he says.

  I hesitate.

  He leans forward, his eyes hungry and demanding. “I want to see you, little poisoner. Let me look at what I can’t have.”

  His words echo my thoughts. Before I can stop myself, I reach around and unclasp my bra, letting it fall to reveal my bare breasts.

  Legion snarls and leans forward. He moves so quickly that I jerk back, my eyes widening.

  He looks up at me and smirks then sits back again. He lifts up just enough to peel his boxers off. I watch as he palms his cock, pumping it lightly. My nipples harden, and my desire heats me from the inside out.

  Maybe I’m not immune to this moon fever after all.

  “Do you like what you see, little poisoner?”

  I glance up and find him watching me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. “Do you?”

  His smirk is sexy as hell. “I think the answer to that is fairly obvious.”

  I bite my lip, eyeing his hand around his cock, imagining what it would feel like inside me. The sight of him so turned on by me is empowering.

  Feeling brave, I reach down and slide my fingers over the fabric of my panties. Legion tenses. His gaze is locked onto my hand.

  It’s incredibly arousing watching him watch me.

  I keep my eyes on his hand and explore my body with my fingers.

  “I want to see.” His voice is strained.

  I look up to see him studying me, and instead of answering, I stand up and slide my panties off. Then I sit again and part my legs. Nerves creep in then. I’ve never bared myself like this before. It’s more vulnerable than I know how to be.