“Crash, you in here?” I called out, the heat of the day not fully permeating the basement. But the forge was going, and the sound of the flames was weirdly soothing, as if they would burn out the voices of the ghosts next door.

“Yes.” His voice was rough and solid, and it provided me with the steadiness I needed in that moment. I smoothed my hands over my face, unable to turn to look at him. He’d rejected me, and I him, only hours before, and we’d both agreed it was for the best.

I couldn’t stop the shaking in my legs though, couldn’t ignore the need to let the fire between us drive out the darkness that was trying to lay claim to me by digging into my soul. Because whatever was in the Sorrel-Weed house was darker than anything else I’d run into in the shadow world, and that was saying a lot.

“Breena, are you okay?” The concern in his voice undid me.

“Nope. That’s a nope,” I whispered.

Then his hands were on my shoulders, turning me, and I buried my face against his chest.

“You’re freezing.” He swept me up into his arms and carried me closer to his forge. He sat on a chair, pulling me down with him. “How is that possible in this heat? What happened?”

My eyes remained wide open, because I was suddenly afraid of closing them. “Just give me a minute.”

He didn’t push, and he didn’t let me go either. The minutes ticked by, and the pounding of my heart finally slowed, though the fear was still at the edge of my mind. Like if I let it, it would crawl over me again, freezing me in place and stealing the new life I’d made for myself. “That house next door. It’s harboring something darker than just a nasty ghost.” I shuddered. Even saying it out loud felt like a risk—as though I was calling it to attention.

“It’s always been dark,” Crash said softly. “The history there is ugly.”

“It’s worse now. Something has changed. There’s an . . . entity in there that’s hurting Matilda. Before, she was in there alone,” I said with absolute certainty. I rubbed my face.

His arms cinched tighter around me. “I believe you, but I can’t see it. You seem to have an easier time picking up on the dead.”

I looked up at him, changing directions because I did not want to think about the critter haunting the Sorrel-Weed house. “Crash, what the hell were you doing with those two girls young enough to be your daughters?”

He stared down at me. “I thought this was a terrible idea. All of it.”

“Oh, it is, that hasn’t changed.” I shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to know—”

“That we don’t feel something when we are in contact with each other?” He arched a brow. “Is this helping you push back the fear?”

“Distractions are a beautiful thing,” I said, knowing that I needed to go. Feish was waiting for me, and whatever was in the Sorrel-Weed house would still be there when I came out, no matter how long I waited in the basement with Crash. He couldn’t really protect me, but when I was with him, I felt safe—even though it was probably an illusion. It was why I’d sought him out just now if I was being honest with myself.

He bent his head, hair falling over his forehead, and his eyes locked on mine then slid down to my lips. “It would be a beautiful thing even if it’s a bad idea.”

Oh dear. I clung to my one touchstone in the raging sea of hormones and desire. The thing I used to remind myself that he didn’t really want me. “The girls? You just like them young?”

His jaw ticked and he pulled back, a flash of irritation on his handsome face. “You are not the only one with a job to do. One of mine is protecting the younger fae, and in a place like that, what you saw needed to look the way it looked.”

I couldn’t help the dry sarcasm. “Right, it needed to look like the three of you . . .” I left it open for him to finish the sentence, thinking I’d push him into the depths of anger. That’s the way Himself would have responded, defensive and childish. Mostly because he was usually guilty as could be when I finally confronted him about something that had to do with other women. He’d told me more than once his relationships with others were none of my business.

I wasn’t falling for that stupidity again.

But not Crash, there was no defensiveness. Nope, Crash chuckled at me. “There are fae men who would hurt the younger women badly if they didn’t think there would be repercussions. I have a fairly good reputation for handing out repercussions to those who cross me or hurt those who are under my protection. It is my job as an elder fae.”

Well, damn it. That was some serious white knight business that was all kinds of sweet and chivalrous. “Damn it, I didn’t want to like you more,” I muttered.

I waved a hand between us as if that would cut the sexual tension. Only it didn’t work. He caught my one hand and raised it to his mouth where he pressed a kiss to my wrist that involved lips, tongue, and a nip of teeth.

Fire, electricity, and a steady thrumming low in my body sprung to life, awakened by that simple touch, by the kiss that hadn’t even landed on my lips. Far too easy to imagine his mouth other places.

All the places.

I swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

I went with complete honesty. “My clothes will fall off.”

He burst out laughing. “Gods, Breena, you always manage to catch me off guard.”

I used his distraction to slide off his lap and what was getting seriously hard down there. “I should go. Thanks for . . . helping me. Again.”

He didn’t step toward me. “At some point, we will have to discuss this.”

I didn’t fool myself into thinking he meant something like a blacksmithing training session or another discussion about the house next door and the darkness within it. He’d be there for those things, too, I had no doubt, but he was talking about when I was ready to ride him like a pony into the wee hours of the morning. Maybe several mornings. I swallowed hard. “I’ll keep that in mind . . . should Corb not be available.”

Oh, yeah, I went there. I was trying to push him away, but he was on to me.

He laughed softly. “I doubt he’d be able to keep up with you. There is some supernatural blood in him, but not enough to handle all that you are, Bree.”

“Corb is supernatural? What is he?” Those two questions flew out of my lips, and on the heels of it came a thought I did not like one bit. Was Himself supernatural too? Was that how he’d screwed me over, not because of some connection Corb had accidently given him? No, that couldn’t be it. Corb said he'd introduced Alan to the shadow world.

“That will be his story to tell you,” Crash said. “Not mine.” He stood and turned to the forge, his back muscles pulling on the T-shirt he wore, and the urge to run my hands over him had me clenching my fists.

I forced my feet to move toward the door, barely shuffling because of the waves of desire ripping through my body just from thinking about Crash and everything he’d just offered me. About all that he could be to me if I let myself trust him fully. But I’d been burned badly by Alan, and I wasn’t about to let my hormones be the deciding factor here.

Out of the basement door, I climbed the steps to the backyard and felt the presence of the darkness in the Sorrel-Weed house as keenly as before, cold and dark and ducking ugly. But now I was all jacked up on libido with nowhere to spend that coin. Perfect. The wild sexual frustration protected me from any fear I might have felt.

“I’ll deal with you later, jackass!” I snapped and pointed at the house as I strode by. “You come on my property, though, and I’ll pull all your bits apart and stuff them into the beyond! See how you like them apples, dink face!”

I had no idea how to do any of that, but the darkness seemed to pause, uncertain for a moment, caught in the onslaught of my frustration which spilled out as anger.

That moment of hesitation from whatever was in the house next door was all I needed to get by the critter, out of the backyard, and onto the street. There was still a sensation of eyes on me, but it was far weaker out here, away from the two houses.

“Duck me,” I whispered as I found myself wobbling down the street, a strange mix of hormones, fear, and frustration propelling me forward.

By the time I reached the Marshall House, I’d mostly composed myself. At least I was walking normally, and the libido had faded to a dull thrum. Feish waited for me across the street from the hotel, her hands tucked behind her back.

“Did you pick up something to eat?” I asked.

“Yes, it was good. You want some?” She pulled her hands out from behind her and held out a grease-soaked paper bag.

I took the bag and peeked in. A trio of oily hush puppies waited for me, and I ate them quickly, not caring they were cold. I was hungrier than I’d realized.

“You got to eat better,” Feish said. “Vegetables and fruits, or you be getting red spots all over your face.”

“Then you should have brought me vegetables and fruit,” I mumbled around a mouthful.

“I wanted greasy food,” she mumbled back. “I didn’t think you’d eat the last of them.”

As always with Feish, her reasoning was just a little off kilter. I wiped my fingers on the paper bag and tossed it into the trash.

“Let’s go talk to this goblin. See if we can snag us a job. Should be easy since he’s looking for us.” I jogged across the street, easily dodging the traffic slowly making its way through Savannah’s shopping district, Feish on my heels. The four-story hotel was painted green, and the the window-covered front of the building was inexplicably dark for this time of day. Or maybe it was just me and my overly active imagination. Yes, it could be just me.

As we stepped into the lobby, a noticeable chill slid over my skin.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t just me.

I grabbed Feish and stopped her beside me as the cold wrapped around my wrist and tugged me toward the stairs.