Page 70 of Unveil

“Alright, tell you what. I’ll teach you a thing or two about a thing or two, how ’bout that?”

She whirls around, carelessly swishing water and revealing her dusky pink nipples. “Really?”

It takes every bit of my willpower to keep my eyes on hers.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, really.” I point the bolt at her in warning. “But we start on beginner-level shit and work our way up.”

She licks her lips, and I lift my knee up to block her view of the hard-on growing in my boxer briefs. I’m not embarrassed that my cock responds to her so easily—it knows who it belongs to—but I don’t want to scare the girl away just when she’s letting me in.

“So what’s the first lesson?” she asks, then reconsiders. “Besides the whole ‘if you hear your name in the woods, no, you didn’t’ thing. That still sounds like a superstition, by the way.”

“Superstitions are, until they aren’t. It’s like getting a cold chill after stepping on a grave. Or when leaves turn over on a pretty, windless day, and then lo and behold, it rains.” She looks at me like I have two heads. I wave my bolt dismissively. “Trust me. It’s true. Dash can explain it way better than me.”

“Sure he can,” she mocks.

I snort, but think for a second, trying to figure out something she can see for herself that isn’t just an old wives’ tale.

Glancing around the trees, it hits me, and I almost kick myself for not explaining it sooner.

I sweep my bolt to point at the swaths of paint high up on some of the tree trunks.

“See those red markings?”

She nods quickly, so eager for information that droplets drip down her cheek with the movement.

“They mark territory. Black is for Dark Corner, Fury land. White’s for Old Bridge, Wilde land. We’re in Lost Cove, neutral ground, which is red. Because no blood should be spilt on neutral ground.”

Her brow wrinkles. “Does that ever happen? We’re safe here, right?”

“Of course we are.” I scowl, offended she’d suggest otherwise. “The good thing about being unable to get out is that no Wilde can get in. No one knows we’re here, and I’ve got traps set in every direction. I’ll know if anyone gets within a quarter mile.”

She skims her hands over the water, not looking at me. “Where are the other traps?”

I smirk. “ThatI’m not telling you.”

She frowns like I’ve caught her.

“Don’t pout. You’re not going anywhere without me, so I’ll make sure you don’t trip any. But if I told you now, I bet dollars to donuts you’d try something reckless, thinking you could trick me. I’d somehow wind up knocked out and hogtied in tulle, butt-ass naked come morning so you could escape.”

Her eyes roll, all but confirming my suspicion.

“I’d come back for you,” she argues half-heartedly. “Eventually.” Then she cuts me a sharp glance. “After you learned your lesson.”

I chuckle, and she huffs, continuing. “But you know I wouldn’t have to do any of that if we left right now. It stopped raining, so what’s keeping us from getting outta here?”

As if the weather itself wants to defy her, she jolts and glares up at the sky, wrinkling her nose as she hastily wipes off what must’ve been a raindrop.

What’s left of any path I could find is covered with collapsed trees, slick with mud that’d suck your boots clean off. Even I had trouble climbing through it to see the other side.

“Storm’s still in the air. Not to mention you’re still hurt, birdie.” I shake my head, letting my concern show. “The only safe path out that I’ve found would kill that ankle.”

She whines softly, “I said I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” I tease lightly. “You haven’t made so much as a peep about an injury half my high school football team would’ve cried like babies over.”

“See? I’ll be fine,” she insists.

I force a playful smile, though it feels strained as my hand presses over the ache in my chest.