Deliberately.
His brows knit, lips parting slightly, like he’s been struck by a sudden and deeply important scientific revelation. “Wow,” he breathes.
I tense immediately. “What?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flick back up to mine, bright with poorly concealed delight. “I just—okay, I know this is not the moment, but?—”
“Elias.”
“—you have,” he continues, gesturing vaguely behind me, “anincredibleass.”
I turn that over in my mind. The silence stretches, broken only by the distant sounds of the forest and the faint hum of the wards.
“I’m sorry,” I say flatly. “What?”
He grins, wide and unapologetic now, clearly pleased with himself. “I mean, I’ve noticed before, obviously. I have eyes. But right now? With the lighting? And the whole… stoic cryptid guardian thing you’ve got going on?”
His hands twitch like he wants to grab me and knows better. “Boone. That is abootylicioussituation.”
My face goes hot. “No,” I say immediately. “Absolutely not.”
He laughs, full and delighted, completely unrepentant. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me no one’s ever told you that before.”
“I live in the woods,” I snap. “Alone. With rocks.”
“That doesn’t disprove anything.”
“I am not,” I continue firmly, “bootylicious.”
He hums, clearly unconvinced. “Agree to disagree.”
I cross my arms, scowling, and absolutely donotenjoy the way his eyes linger when I do it.
Inside, though… inside, I preen. Just a little. Traitorously and absolutely annoyingly.
He watches my reaction with fond amusement, then—mercifully—clears his throat and visibly reins himself in, shifting gears the way he does when he senses I’m nearing my limit.
“Okay,” he says, all professionalism again, though his smile still curves with mischief. “Serious mode. What’s next on the planning agenda?”
I frown, thrown by the change in topic. “Next?”
He nods eagerly. “Routes, supplies, contingency plans. Possibly arguing about whether you need three knives or five.”
“Four,” I mutter automatically.
He beams. “See? Teamwork.”
I shake my head, exasperated, warmth still buzzing under my skin despite myself.
Bootylicious.
Absolutely ridiculous.
“Okay, four,” he says cheerfully. “We’ve got transportation, approximate route, cryptids we need to avoid or greet politely, and safety rules. What about supplies? Weather? Food? Sleeping arrangements?”
Sleeping arrangements.
Heat slams through me so hard I nearly choke.