Page 107

Scandalized mirth rolls across my tongue. “I’m not going to ask it anything.”

“You sure? This is a rare opportunity.”

I’m tempted to smack his arm. Unfortunately, his rich tenor wends its way into my belly, seeping into the chinks. That, and the expression he slants my way, a potent blend of fondness and amusement.

Curse him and that contagious grin. Curse the indecent sprawl of his body.

He twists onto his side, facing me while his thumb runs up and down my hip. This position allows me to maintain my hold on him while addressing important business.

Puck reads my expression with playful skepticism. “Wait a minute. I know that look,” he accuses, hoisting himself on his elbow. “That’s the List Look. You’re assembling a mental roster of how many positions there are to check off.”

I match his pose and slap the grass. “I am not!”

“How many?”

He’s far too eager to know. I compress my mouth into a disapproving plank, then grunt, “Four, thus far.”

“Egads. I’ve created a merry monster.” Delighted with himself, Puck dives in and snatches my lips. He kisses me until I’m sinking into the forest floor, the upper half of his frame covering me. The naughty imp nuzzles under my jaw, his muffled voice chanting, “Nom, nom, nom, nom, nom.”

I chuckle. How does he do this? How does he make me laugh when there’s nothing to laugh about?

Puck pops off me. “On second thought, that’s a pitifully low number of positions in Faerie,” he admonishes. “Wherever did you come up with it?”

“Lark,” I answer.

For a proper list, I’d consulted every graphic detail she’s ever shared with me and Cove. Our younger sister has clogged our ears with enough tales to permanently plug them.

I want to expand on that, to share more anecdotes about my family. However, Lark’s name is a gust of cold wind slicing between us. I’ve imparted tidbits about my sisters with this Fae, back when the stakes were already high, and he had less right to know anything about them. But the reminder of Lark and Cove is a brutal dose of reality, snuffing out my mood. Contrition worms into my gut. I’d had sex with the woodland’s ruler, the enemy of my people, the antagonist of this Fable.

Sometime during the hunt, he’d stopped being a villain and become my friend. Sometime during our friendship, he became more than that.

Rawness assaults my throat, depriving me of speech. Puck notices, his brows crinkling. “Juniper—”

“Don’t say I did nothing wrong,” I warn him, turning away and speaking around a mouthful of remorse. “I…I’ve…”

I’ve betrayed them. I indulged in this night at the expense of the ones who mean more to me than anyone else in this world.

All of us win—or none of us win. Our lives hinge on each other.

I’m the stringent one of our trio. I’m the righteous one. Yet I’m the one who gave myself to my captor. I did so multiple times tonight. I did this—me, not Lark or Cove.

Puck reaches out and catches the strap of my camisole, which has slid down my shoulder. While tucking it into place, he dips his head until I face him, then his roughspun voice abrades the night. “Sorry, luv. I have to disagree. You did nothing wrong.”

“I went to bed with the ruler of The Solitary Forest.”

“Actually, we’re not in bed.”

“That’s not funny,” I clip.

“Of course it’s not,” he replies. “If I had made a jest, you would have laughed.”

“Puck—”

“Are you still playing this game?”

“Yes.”

“Are you still planning to win?”