He shakes his head slowly.
Fascinating. Perhaps his skin is thicker than mine. If it wasn’t wildly inappropriate, I’d ask if I could touch him again. Purely for research purposes, not because I want to, because that would be foolish.
Nearly falling to my death aside, I am not a fool.
A fool would want to run her hands down the planes of his chest or drag her fingertips over the ripples of his stomach or trace the deep cut of his hips?—
But not me. Not at all.
The man stares at me as if I said all of that that aloud.
What I need right now is a distraction. Let’s see… Wait! I know. “I brought you more biscuits.” I slip my pack from my shoulders and withdraw the box. “My mother always said that you shouldn’t arrive to anyone’s house empty-handed.” This might not be his house, but it is his territory, so I figured the rule applies.
He takes the box quicker than he did on Wednesday, reminding me of the cat I adopted back home. The thing hated me at first, clawing and scratching any time I got near. But after bringing it a bowl of milk every day for a month, the little ginger menace eventually allowed me to pet its matted fur.
Speaking of fur, this man has none. If the book Trevor gave me was wrong about that, were they wrong about everything else? My gaze drops to the man’s dark green trousers for a split second before I realize what I’m doing and focus once more on his face.
A face that is still fixed in a scowl.
“This is a Seelie custom, then?” he says slowly. “To give a gift of sustenance to everyone you meet?”
I’d hardly call a few biscuits sustenance, but that is neither here nor there. “I suppose it is, especially when you’re trying to make new friends.”
For some reason, that makes his eyes widen. “You wish to be my friend?”
“Of course. But in order for that to happen, you should probably tell me your name.” It feels strange to have met him twice now and still not know.
The Unseelie’s chest expands as a heavy breath passes through his lips. He glances over his shoulder toward Rosehill like he can’t wait for me to be gone. “My name is Everett.”
Everett.
Everett.
Everett.
“That’s a nice name.” A nice name? Really? Did I honestly come all the way over here to tell this man that he has a nice name and give him biscuits?
Nia is right. I have gone mad.
I look away, my cheeks blazing. That’s when I notice two planks stacked behind me.
The planks weren’t missing at all. They were removed.
Did he take them out because of Ronan trying to cross the bridge, or have they always been gone? If it’s the latter, Ronan could’ve met the same fate I almost did. He’s lucky to be alive.
I bunch my skirts in my hands and wince when I remember the soreness there.
Everett sets the box on the bridge and holds out his hand. “May I see your palm?”
For the first time since I arrived, I realize exactly how alone we are. He could push me through that hole in the bridge, and no one would ever know.
“I will not harm you,” he says gently.
I know that, don’t I? Otherwise, I wouldn’t have snuck out to meet him.
With a deep breath, I set my hand in his.
The only change in his expression is a slight flutter of the muscles in his jaw. From his pocket, he withdraws a flask. He thumbs-open the lid and pours cool water over my sore skin. Not just any water—water that instantly heals the wound, erasing all redness and pain.