Page 52 of Another Man’s Treasure

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“He said nothing?” Bluebell scoffs as she eats a bowl of chocolate ice cream on my sofa. Next to her, her mate looks between us with a neutral expression.

I look at Hadrian. “You’re a man; how do you take this?”

Hadrian shifts forward, resting his forearms on both knees. “He’d just gotten bad news, right? About something he was doing to try to protect you?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “I’m sure that was frustrating, but⁠—”

“It’s still rude to treat Oz like he did, though,” Bluebell says.

Slapping my knee, I shoot Hadrian a look. “See! Agreed.”

“He just asked for a little space,” Hadrian says carefully. “He could have handled it differently, sure, but it sounds like he was super frustrated.” He cocks his head to the side, scanning me with bright purple eyes. “Oz, why does this really matter to you? It’s a fake relationship anyway, right?”

I glance toward the small crackling fire to my left, considering how much to share. After a moment, I sigh. “We hooked up.”

Bluebell’s mouth drops open, and she throws her spoon at my head. I grab it with my wing tip and set it down on the coffee table.

“And you said nothing all fucking day?” She stands, crossing her arms and stomping her foot. “Did you tell Lemon?”

“No, bestie,” I say softly. “I told nobody because I haven’t even talked to him about it, not much anyhow.”

“You caught feelings, didn’t you?” Hadrian asks, lifting his wings to drape them over the back of the sofa.

Ginger eyes his sharp wing tips and moves closer to me, plopping onto my lap as she stares at him. I run both hands through my hair. Am I about to admit this aloud for the first time?

“He did.” Bluebell drops back onto my raggedy sofa and tucks herself into the crook of Hadrian’s muscled arm.

“I did,” I say, scared to even look at them.

“Does he know?”

“We haven’t discussed that.” I look at Hadrian. “And now it seems like it would be weird to bring that up, you know?”

Hadrian’s about to answer when my comm watch rings. Dread and hope fill me in equal measure. It could be Wilder. Maybe he’s⁠—

But when I look down, Saint’s name hovers over the band.

“Gods, didn’t the Sandovals tell him to steer clear of you?” Bluebell’s brows furrow as she stares at his flashing name.

“They did,” I mutter. I slap my watch to decline the call. There’s no reason I need to talk to him, none at all. I can’t imagine any scenario where it goes well, especially considering that last conversation with Emmer Sandoval. Saint Ashbourne is like a leech, and if I let him attach himself to me, he’ll suck me dry.

Not in a fun way.

“I need more ice cream for this,” Bluebell says, rising and rounding the sofa.

Hadrian winks at me. “That’s the hangover talking. I told her so.”

She waves dismissively at him. “We get it. You told me to slow down. I didn’t listen. And now I’m paying the consequences two days later. Anyhow, I blame Lemon. That vampire metabolism makes it soooo much easier for her to handle this shit. Yada yada yada.”

After filling her bowl with more of my ice cream, she returns to the sofa and drops down next to Hadrian once more. She digs happily into the ice cream as I consider if ignoring Saint is actually the right thing to do.

“It’s the right thing, Oz,” she says. “I can tell by the look on your face that you’re second-guessing yourself. But don’t. Just give Wilder some time.”

Wilder

My first mistake was letting my anger get the best of me after that call with Emmer Sandoval. My second was not taking Oz up on his offer to talk right then and there. Knowing we can’t get rid of Saint has my sense of possession at a ridiculous high. When Emmer dropped that bomb on me, all I wanted to do was tie Oz to the bed and refuse to let him leave. I wanted to possess him in a way I’ve never wanted anything before.