I’m not sure why he’s being kind to me. It’s confusing and unsettling, and I don’t know how to respond to him like this. We’re designed to fight—swords of steel, heavy armor, and words that sting and draw blood. Letting my guard down feels an awful lot like surrender.

Unsure of what to say, I just offer him a scowl.

Dean lowers his eyes to the slate gray floor with mild defeat. When he glances back up to me, the twinkle is long gone, replaced by the hopelessness that is hovering inside these four walls, closing in on us. “I’m not your enemy down here, Corabelle.” His words carry an unfamiliar weight as they continue to disarm me.

“I don’t know how to see you as anything else,” I admit.

He stares at me, unwavering, daring me to look away. Then the twinkle reappears, and Dean replies, “Because it’s fun.”

“No.”

My defenses flare back to life and I’m grateful for that—because it’s easier.

Comfortable.

Not fun.

“You’re such a liar,” he persists. “And stubborn.”

I narrow my eyes at him, my molars grinding together in the way that they do when I’m preparing to rush into battle with Dean Asher. I cross my feet at the ankles and lean back against the pole. “You sure have a twisted idea of fun,” I shoot back.

Dean runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, breathing in deep as he prepares to take me down. I can almost feel his dagger poking at my chest. His head cocks to the side, his eyes blazing blue. “Remember when my buddy from college came into town to take me out for drinks? You told him I had a secret crush on him.”

Ah, crap.

“Then you slipped me fucking Viagra before we left and I had to hide my dick with a bar napkin the whole damn night. But I’m pretty sure he noticed because I haven’t heard from him since, and he deleted me on Facebook.” Dean is watching my reaction like a hawk. “You can’t tell me you didn’t love that shit.”

Dammit. I completely give myself away when a smile creeps in, pulling at my lips. It’s my first smile in days. I’m not sure whether to be angry and accusatory, or to keep on smiling.

But Dean already knows he’s won. “I rest my case.”

I turn my head to the side in an attempt to hide the evidence, but the damage is already done. He sees right through me.

We are interrupted when an ugly presence pervades us.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Those boots stomp all over me before they even reach the bottom of the staircase. I rise to my feet as my heart thunders in my chest with resistance. I’m already shaking—quivering with fear. Dean stands slowly, his eyes still pinned on me, but missing the playful spark I had seen only seconds ago.

I want it back.

“Good morning, pets,” Earl greets us, wearing some kind of black work polo that stretches out over his large stomach, barely tucking into his pants. “How’s my kitten?” His dark eyes shift to Dean. “And the dirty dog.”