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“You came all the way out to Hooded Skullcap by yourself for me?”

Blonde hair fell to conceal part of her face as she ducked her head. “In my defense, I had plenty of daylight left before those people started coming after me.”

“I’m not mad, Loren.” His thumb brushed across her knuckles, callouses scraping. “Just don’t do that again. You scared me half to death.” As the car rolled to a stop at an intersection, Darien pinned her with an intense stare. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Did the Pale Man say anything?”

Loren tried to keep her fingers that were linked with Darien’s from tightening. “Mostly just threats,” she whispered hoarsely. “About eating me and stuff.” A chill spider-walked up her spine.

Darien let it go, but she could tell from the look on his face that he wasn’t fooled. Maybe it made her a liar for not wanting to discuss the Pale Man’s prediction with him, but…she didn’t want to think about it.

It wouldn’t come true. It couldn’t. It was a lie. That awful creature was full of lies.

Loren folded her legs underneath her and rested her head against Darien’s shoulder for the rest of the ride. Hands gripping his forearm, she slipped in and out of a dream, only the bouncing of the car over speed bumps or the growl of the engine pulling her back to attention before she slipped right back into the dream again.

She had stopped time. She wasn’t sure how, but something told her she was better off not knowing.

—

The spoon clinked against the mug as Loren stirred the tonic, melting the glob of honey in the hot liquid. Darien stood beside her at the kitchen counter, watching her with the kind of stare that made her legs suddenly decide they didn’t have bones. His hands were braced on the counter as he leaned back against it, the sight of his corded muscle beneath inked skin briefly distracting her from her task. If she wasn’t careful, she would have to wipe drool from the corner of her mouth.

“Here you go, handsome.” She passed him the mug, balancing it so he could grab the handle instead of the scalding sides. “Careful, it’s hot.”

The smile playing on his lips told her he thought she was adorable for thinking he could be so easily harmed by a hot drink. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He took the mug from her and blew on the steam. “Let’s go sit down. You can pick one of your chick flicks.” His eyes weren’t black, but she could tell he was fighting a Surge.

She prayed with all her heart that the tonic would work.

When he held a hand out to her, she took it with her good one—the hand that wasn’t wrapped in bandages like the other, courtesy of Darien’s meticulous care—and followed him into the sitting room. “I don’t know if we can really call them my chick flicks,” Loren said, “when I’ve caught you watching them by yourself.”

Darien’s mouth popped open with feigned horror. “Never.” With a wink, he let go of her hand and sat down on the couch. He took a sip of the tonic before setting it on a coaster on the coffee table. And then he pushed his hair back from his face and patted his thigh. “Get your cute ass in my lap right now.”

She cocked an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Is that an order?”

He pointed a finger at her ass. “Ass,” he said, and then pointed at his lap. “Lap. Now.”

She gave him a naughty look and grabbed the remote off the coffee table. As she made to sit down on the couch—beside him, instead of where he’d told her to sit—he wound his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap so quickly, she squeaked in alarm.

He tugged her against his solid chest, pinning her arms under his. He growled, breath sending a chill across her ear, “Don’t ever do that again, or I’ll tickle you till you can’t breathe.”

Strands of her hair clung to her face as she turned to look at him, barely able to move under his firm grip. She felt like a cocoon, and he was so close, they were sharing breaths. If she tipped her head up, just a little, she would be able to kiss him. “Is that a threat?”

His fingers dug into her sides, making her buck her hips and squeal.

“Darien, stop!”

But he kept tickling her, throwing her off his lap so he could pin her down on the couch, his body pressing against hers, his fingertips going to town on the sensitive areas below her ribs.

“Darien!” she tried, but she could barely get his name out around her fits of laughter. “Stop, I’m going to pee my pants—”

“Say it, then.” He paused his assault, fingers still poised on her sides, ready to dig back in at any second. Every muscle in her body stayed on high alert, ready to wriggle the moment he tickled her again.

“Say what?” she panted. He was hovering above her, his chest touching hers, his face so close that she could see every eyelash. She lost herself in those eyes, never wanting to move, completely forgetting all about the tickling. She loved the color of them—a shade of blue she would willingly drown herself in.

Something about the way he was looking at her made her think he was feeling the same way about her. “Say you won’t do it again,” he whispered, bending to pass his mouth across hers. Every breath he drew caused his chest to press into hers.

Her smile grew into a grin. “I won’t do it again.”