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A knock at the door interrupted his nod.

He turned to see the agents who’d questioned him back when he was first captured.

A part of him wanted to assist them. He was desperate to get Ariel back, but Grimm scrambled his mind so much that he thought no one—except the man who had his sister—was capable of helping.

Knowing that was illogical didn’t seem to help.

The thought of giving any useful information to the agents sickened him.

Seeing the agents again brought back a slew of emotions.

Anson felt stuck on the teeter-totter of helping them or pretending to assist. He swallowed his emotions as best he could, hoping that after breakfast the ache and nausea in his stomach would settle some.

While he definitely did not trust the agents, he did his best to accept Nari’s judgement of their situation.

She had rescued him from the crash site.

And hadn’t eaten him. Though it was beyond frowned upon to eat another shifter, Anson’s mistrust of others did have him genuinely doubting at times the eagle shifter would pass up a tasty shrew snack.

Nari waved the agents in as she crossed from the kitchen to the front of the cabin.

The agent with the red, curly hair entered first, her wedge heels slapping the floor like webbed bird feet.

Anson had been so consumed with his personal feelings about the agents that he almost missed the fact that something was happening between the two women in the room.

Agent Sparks’ sharp gaze locked straight on Nari, and the usually poised eagle seemed to shrivel under it.

Anson was relieved to see he wasn’t the only one intimidated by the curly-haired agent.

The few seconds of silence seemed full of tension until Agent Sparks waved her hand to clear the air. “I’m not going to hurt you, Nari, “ she said with a chuckle. “It’s just a car, and I have insurance. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

Nari kept her distance. “I can pay for whatever the insurance doesn’t.”

Then it clicked. Shit. The red sports car they were driving around in was this woman’s car! No wonder Nari was keeping her distance. That had been a nice vehicle. Until they wrapped it around a telephone pole.

“Nonsense. It was a work-related incident. FUC is on the hook for that.” She gave a reassuring smile, her bright red lipstick bringing out the rosy undertones of her medium-brown skin.

Then she held out a pink reusable bag covered in rhinestones or sequins or something that made it shine in a way very unlike that of a traditional first aid kit.

Flashy. Just like the sports car. It told him a lot about Agent Sparks.

“Here’s the medical supplies you requested. ”

“Thank you, Cass.” Anson noticed Nari’s use of Agent Sparks’ first name. He wondered if the two ASS agents had a history together.

Anson’s gaze drifted to the man in the cowboy boots—Agent Stone, the hound dog shifter.

“I have your groceries,” Agent Stone said as he sauntered through the cabin to the kitchen and placed the bag of food on the counter.

Nari followed him, her posture more relaxed now that she and Agent Sparks had cleared the air. “We just woke up. I haven’t had the chance to discuss anything with Anson.”

What else was there to discuss? Anson had no idea how long Agent Stone and Nari had been talking before he woke up. All he’d heard was what seemed to be the tail end of their discussion, when Agent Stone had offered to bring supplies.

“We can make time now,” Anson stated. “Do you have a lead on finding my sister?”

“Not exactly.” Nari frowned. “How about before we get into it, you let me take a look at your arm?”

Agent Sparks spoke up. “Why don’t Grayson and I work on making breakfast while you two tend to the bandages?”

Agent Stone grunted in agreement. Anson allowed Nari to lead him back to the living room, the pink, glitzy first aid bag gripped firmly in her hand, the glitter and gemstones on the cloth catching the morning light, sparkling like tiny stars.

Nari beckoned him to sit next to her on the couch.

Dust wafted up as she sat down. Anson wondered how he’d been able to sleep on it without noticing how worn out it was.

He told himself there was no harm in sitting on the couch now.

With a grimace, he sat next to Nari, trying his best to pretend the torn fabric wasn’t dirty.

At least it was better than that motel they’d stayed in.

He started rubbing his hands on his pants all the same, trying to get rid of any contamination.

Anson knew that logically he couldn’t rub anything off his hands, but it did quiet the rising anxiety. At least briefly, anyway.

“Does it hurt to sit?” Nari asked, probably noting the look of discomfort on his face.

“No, I—” He gulped down the heat of embarrassment, centering himself. “I just noticed how disgusting this couch is.”

Nari clasped her hands together, a bright smile lighting up her face. “That’s great news!”

“It is?” He wasn’t sure why the couch being gross was such a great thing. He was trying his best not to feel his skin crawl from disgust. Or run away screaming. Though his body probably wouldn’t allow him to get away that fast.

“Of course. Last night, you were too banged up to notice. It means your body has made a lot of progress in healing itself.” Anson tried his best to return her smile.

“May I?” Nari asked, indicating that she wanted to inspect the bruising on his arm.

He nodded. She gently lifted the sleeve of his T-shirt to peer at the skin underneath.

“It’s still pretty bruised. How does it feel? ”

Anson didn’t even try to lift his arm; he knew the answer. “Not great, but better than yesterday.”

Nari pulled the pink bag closer to her. Sunlight filtering through the window reflected off the gemstones on the bag, sending small balls of light across Nari’s face.

She poked around the contents until finding what she needed, pulling out a black arm splint to help immobilize the limb.

“I’m going to do my best to not hurt you while I strap this on. ”

Anson stifled a chuckle, doing his best not to blurt out a sexual joke.

Instead, he centered himself to better deal with the pain and said, “Just get it over with.” He pressed his lips together, trying his best to ignore any discomfort as Nari gently moved his arm to slide it into the splint.

Her soft fingertips glided across his skin, sending shivers through his body.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to not let on how much he enjoyed her touch.

He thirsted for it like parched earth desired rain.

“Does that hurt?”

He shook his head. “No. Not really,” he added quickly, not wanting her to know that her touch was a drop of water to a dehydrated person. He craved it. No—he needed it.

Her soft fingertips wrapped the splint around his arm, strapping it to his body to help immobilize the limb.

Anson’s heart fluttered being close to her.

His eyes were drawn to her soft curves, yet he looked away.

He feared she would notice his excitement and was even more afraid of what it could mean.

How could it impact the constant battle within him for coming completely clean or only giving enough information to give the illusion of helping?

Why was he protecting the scumbag who held his sister captive?

The more he became close to Nari, the less it made sense.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nari’s voice was a soft caress on his ear.

“Yes. I’m fine,” he whispered, his tight chest unable to produce enough air for anything louder.

“Can I see your face?” After he nodded, Nari gently put a knuckle to his chin to tilt his head toward her.

She delicately wiped a cotton swab wet with some sort of ointment across his forehead.

“It looks like these healed overnight. There aren’t even scabs left on most of them.

” A tingling sensation sparked by her touch meandered across Anson’s skin.

It sent goosebumps down his arms that had nothing to do with the chill in the morning air.

Nari must have noticed because she added, “It’s damp in here this morning.

The logs I put on last night are almost gone.

I’ll rekindle the fire with the coals that are left. ”

Anson wanted to tell her not to worry, just to keep her next to him a moment longer.

His dry throat would not let his voice work.

Nari got up, wove her way around the long coffee table toward the cast iron wood-burning stove over by the far wall.

The warmth from her thigh touching his still lingered after she rose from the couch.

He put his hand on it, wanting to touch her but being too shy to open up about his feelings.

He’d have to be careful, or she’d start to notice.

“So, Agents Sparks and Stone, they’re a thing?” he asked, having picked up a vibe.

“Yeah.” Nari chuckled. “They really complement each other. Grayson grounds her in a way I thought no one ever would.”

“But… FUC and ASS? You told me they don’t get along.” He supposed that was just part of the package of lies she’d served him.

“That’s not a lie,” she said quickly, turning to face him. “Our agencies don’t work together on cases. There’s some generational rivalry and big egos that don’t allow it. But that doesn’t mean every agent feels that way. There are quite a few ASS agents who have defected to the dark side now.”

“The dark side? You mean FUC?” He let out a chuckle.

She shrugged and laughed. “That’s basically how they’re thought of at the aerie—our ASS headquarters down in Australia.”

“But FUC accepts the ASS agents? Lets them work for them?” At her nod, he continued, “Have any FUC agents ever gone to ASS?”

“Heavens no!” Nari laughed loudly at that. “They’d never be accepted in the aerie. I imagine there would be a full-on revolt if anyone ever suggested it. Besides, the infrastructure of the aerie is meant for flying creatures.”

“Do you miss it?” he asked, suddenly aghast at the idea of her going back.

Nari sat back on her heels and looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I thought I’d miss it more, but it’s been refreshing being out here. FUC is a lot more lenient with their agents.”

The sentiment brought a wave of relief to Anson, but he tried to shake off the thoughts that were building. He couldn’t have feelings for Nari—for an ASS agent currently working for FUC! Anson was technically a criminal in FUC custody. He had no business crushing on Nari.

Anson hung his head. How could he let things get this far with Dr. Grimm?

He’d never thought he’d be arrested. And for helping a mad scientist of all things.

It wasn’t that he was upset he’d been caught.

He was upset he’d stooped to the level that he had.

Breaking the law to get his sister back.

Terrorizing people and aiding Grimm so he could hurt them. What had he become?

A pain that had nothing to do with the injury to his ribs spiderwebbed across his chest. It was the consequences his choices led him to.

Regardless of it being an act of love to save his sister, how many other shifters and people were hurt in his wake?

Was he no better than Grimm? Anson wasn’t sure anymore.

Anson cleared his throat, doing his best to swallow the guilt.

He leaned his head against the back of the couch, not even taking the time to think about how dusty or gross that fabric stretched across the wooden bones of the furniture could be.

With a sigh, he decided he couldn’t tell Nari a thing about how he felt about her. He didn’t deserve a woman like her.