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Before I can reply, he gives my shoulder a squeeze and turns toward the door. “Be good, you two. I’ll be back in a few days.”

Gideon calls out after him. “Youcouldjust call next time.”

Harlan tosses a grin back over his shoulder. “Not a chance.”

GIDEON

Some of the tension returns when I shut the door behind Harlan, and my eyes settle on Winnow, smiling shyly and in a way that makes my dick twitch. “We should get going. Stores in town close kinda early. We’ll only have about an hour by the time we get there.”

She nods before looking down at the clothes she’s wearing—my t-shirt and boxers. Hooking my index finger around all five fingers on one of her hands, I lead her to my bedroom and pull a few pairs of sweatpants out of my closet. “Black, dark blue, or grey?”

Her brows leap. “Oh, ummm… dark blue, I guess?”

Setting the other pairs on the bed, I guide her to sit on the edge and kneel at her feet to hold open one pant leg for her to step through. Winnow gives me another one of those blushing smiles that causes that thing in my chest to squeeze. After she steps through the second pant leg, I tug them over her thighs as I rise and step back.

My clothes are giant on her, but I love the sight more than I should admit. She heaves a sigh, glancing at herself in the mirror of my closet door as if coming to terms with the fact that she’ll have to go out dressed like a tent. When she turns back towardme, she cocks a hip and bats her eyelashes, tossing her long, thick tresses over one shoulder. For a split second, I get another flash of those horns, flowers, and tail. “How do I look?”

Like you fucking belong to me.

Not that I can say such a thing aloud.Yet.Still, I can’t resist speaking the truth or the opportunity to get her to give me another one of her pretty blushes.

“Good enough to eat, angel.”

WINNOW

According to Gideon, the nearest town with shopping is a place called Sevierville, nestled in a remarkably beautiful valley in the Smoky Mountains.He mentioned it as though I should already know what he was talking about. I haven’t the foggiest, obviously, but I nod along even though I have no idea. Yet, another guilty reminder that he is still wholly unaware of who or what I am.

How does one confess their immortal nature to a human who doesn’t believe in magic?

What’s more is that, according to what I’ve read, simply being in my presence and strengthening our bond will give him a lifespan parallel to mine and endow him with his own magical gifts. Though it might take some time. Are these things he’ll desire? Instinctively, I would assume yes, but perhaps that’s because of the fact that I was born with these attributes, and I can’t fathom living without them. Perhaps, he is the reverse?

Dread tickles the back of my mind, reminding me of my internal countdown until I will either have to convince him to let me drink his blood, perish entirely, or go into bloodlust.

These anxious ponderings remain in the forefront of my mind until we arrive, and Gideon parks histruckin a stone lotin the center of a small town that appears to be fond of brick. Gideon’s bright hazel eyes catch mine as he opens his door. “Wait for me.”

My heart flutters as I watch him round the front of the truck to open my door and extend his hand in a chivalrous fashion. I can’t help but grin and relish the current of electricity that shoots up my arm as I lay my hand in his, and he helps me climb out.

Dressed in Gideon’s enormous sweatpants, t-shirt, and a too-big, squishy pair of thonged sandals that he callsflip-flops,I feel a little self-conscious. The last time I was seen in public dressed in anything other than a gown fit for a Duchess Paramount was when I’d been captured and forced to wear the uniform prison garb of the last person who’d died that was approximately my size.

Gideon, however, gives me the impression that dressing in little more than pajamas isn’t anything out of the ordinary, and when we step out onto the sidewalk, the peppering of people hardly seem to notice. In fact, I’m not the only one dressed in pajamas. There aremultiplepeople dressed similarly to me.

At my expression, Gideon gives me a curious look, taking my hand in his to lead me into a small house that appears to have been converted into a clothing store. A sign hangs over the front door that reads,Daphne’s Boutique.Patrons and employees briefly glance over at us.

All of them, women.

All of them stare a little too long at Gideon.

The realization causes an unfamiliar sensation to burrow in my chest and gut, and heat my blood. It takes me a moment to place it because never in my life have I felt possessive over a male.

A female, on one or two occasions, but never to the extent ofthis.This sensation is wretched and violent as I watch thenearest female—a pretty blonde with a heaving bosom—stare openly at him, smiling as if waiting for him to look up and gaze upon her wares—as in her breasts. Gideon, however, is seemingly oblivious, perusing a circular rack of skirts as he stands very clearly at my side.

Bold.

Too fucking bold.

Before I can stop myself, an uncharacteristically harsh tone escapes me.“May I help you with something?”

Oh my gods… I’m being unpleasant.