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Winnow’s eyes lift from him to me, and I feel a palpable current of electricity flow between us. It’s mildly unsettling.

Even so, a voice in the back of my mind urges me to offer her tea or something. Striding to the kitchen, I hear Winnow mutter something in a language I can’t understand, but I have the feeling it is a prayer, and for some reason, the sound makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

I sneak a glance to see her offering a trembling hand to Trigger to sniff, and he greedily accepts by licking slobber all over her. My eyes narrow, squeezing shut and opening repeatedly when I fucking swear on everything that’s holy, I see a soft golden light radiating from her hand, but it quickly dims and disappears, leaving me to wonder if I’m hallucinating.

Jesus, I’m just as bad as Harlan.

I stare down at my kitchen counter—raw-edged wood that I restored and lacquered myself—trying to quell the uneasy sensation churning in my gut.

Wondering what the shit I came to my kitchen for in the first place, my eyes land on the ceramic canister containing my homemade tea blend, all from herbs grown in my garden outback—lavender, mallow, dried apple, and chamomile.

“You want some tea or somethin’?”

Hesitating to dare a look back at her, afraid of what sorcery I’ll find, it’s the light and somewhat raspy song of her laughter that finally returns my gaze to her. Still clutching the blanket around herself with one hand, she’s kneeling in front of Trigger, who’s taken to licking her face and neck, making her squirm as she giggles and strokes over his head and neck. Something squeezes painfully tight in my chest, drawing my hand to the scarred expanse to knead it out.

She’s so focused on my dog that she doesn’t even hear me, which only intensifies the unfamiliar sensation.

“Winnow.”

Her eyes snap to mine.

“You want some tea or… water?”

I don’t have anything else here other than coffee, and it’s nearly my bedtime. I live the life of a paw-paw, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Could I have a bath first?”

Jesus, I’m an idiot. She’s covered in mud and blood.

I turn toward the hall to my bedroom, whistling to Trigger, and it’s followed by the sound of his claws clicking against the hardwood floors as he runs to my side. “Bathroom’s just back here.”

WINNOW

Gideon’s home is microscopic in comparison to what I’m accustomed to, but I’ll forever have my baseline for comfort set just above the prison cell I spent two years in.

Anything but that.

And that allows me to see Gideon’s home for what it is: cozy, warm, andsafe.

Everything has a rustic feel—like every square inch was built by him alone. The house consists of a living room, featuring an admittedly beautiful fireplace and a set of built-in bookcases begging for my touch, a kitchen, a narrow hallway, a small rear room he doesn’t bother showing me, but that I can see a backdoor in, a bed chamber, and a bathing suite.

When Gideon ushers me into his bathroom, I’m so relieved at the sight of the clawfoot bathtub and the large brass showerhead hanging above that I could weep. It also looks surprisingly clean for a male who, presumably, has no maids.

I steel myself before asking the most important question, bracing myself for the worst as Gideon turns his intense gaze on me.

“Does it have hot water?”

His expression scrunches up as if I’ve either confused or insulted him by asking.“Yes?”

My shoulders slump as relief washes over me. Yet again, I attempt towillsome clean clothing in front of me, only to be met with disappointment.

What the fuck did she poison me with?

I canfeelmy magic there. Right at my fingertips, but it’s like I can only manage a trickle of it at a time. I’d only been able to use a scarce fragment of my healing magic on Trigger earlier to try and calm him down and make him feel comfortable in my presence.

The tremor in my hands returns at having such scarce access to my magic while I’m stuck here. It makes me feel as if I am well and truly doomed to endure life in this realm because if I can’t evenfoldthrough space orwillthings about as I please, how could I ever dream of finding a way to open a portal here so I can go back home?

Gideon opens a small cabinet beneath the basin of the sink and pulls out a dark blue bath towel. “Use whatever you need; take as long as you like. I’ll put some clothes on the bed and a pitcher of water on the nightstand for you, but I’m gonna need to shower after you.”