“You know damned well that’s not why I want you to stay.” I frowned, a squirming ensuing in my stomach. A crack echoed as the wood split and fell to the grass. “But tell me something.”

“What is it you wish to know?” I asked a touch too playfully for the serious response he gave.

He left the axe in the stump, the blade embedded in the wood, then walked over to join me. “Everything, but I’ll settle for knowing if you’ll be safe should you decide to run back home.”

The word run caught my attention, but it couldn’t hold it as my eyes danced over the maze of abdominals to his wide chest, wanting to stick themselves to him. To count every dark hair and scar. I met his amused gaze and grinned, unapologetic though I should’ve felt every shade of ashamed.

His amusement fell as I took my time to answer, watching his lips slacken while marveling over the fact that he truly seemed to care. “I’ll be safe, wolf.”

Rorn would never hurt me—not physically. Nor would he allow anyone else to. I once thought that made him nothing short of magical.

Then I learned there were numerous ways to bleed.

Scythe watched me for a minute that made me wonder if he didn’t believe me. Soon fearing that perhaps he saw right through me, I looked down at the rock and traced a light crack beside my thigh. “I don’t want to, but I do need to leave.”

He was quiet for a moment, but his gaze still burned upon me.

Twigs and grass crunched as he walked back to the cottage. “You evidently came here for a good reason, so don’t go letting me foil your plans if you need to stay a while longer. I’ve got plenty of shit to tend to with Dade and the legion anyway.”

Dade. The way he spoke of his king alarmed me. Such familiarity alluded to friendship, and I belatedly realized they indeed would be very familiar. They were brethren—wolves.

I followed Scythe inside, watching as he washed his hands before fetching a glass of water. “More murder and maiming?”

It didn’t seem real. Not now that I’d spent a few nights with him. That he was capable of such atrocities. I was a fool indeed. Conveniently forgetful, too, it would seem. For I’d witnessed seemingly good people do terrible things for years, especially recently.

Maybe the good were merely serpents with too many glittering skins, and the bad were more trustworthy.

Scythe shut off the faucet but didn’t look at me as he said, “Probably best you don’t ask.”

“There’s no need to ask, though, is there?” I closed the door and walked deeper into the cottage. “Not when I know.”

He stiffened. “You’re upset.”

“I just don’t understand.”