Page 22 of A Fae’s Guide to Tactical Botany

Ethan flickered a heavy-lidded glance at her, then looked away again. “So you don’t go to the movies much.” He sat up just enough to take another long drink of mead. “Susan Storm is the Invisible Woman. Part of the Fantastic Four.”

“Ah, yes. That one. I saw it many years ago.” Mara took a cautious sip, humming in approval at the sweet bite. “They did not seem especially fantastic to me. I am not fond of the computer magic they show in movies. Real magic is not so…obvious.”

“So you haven’t seen the new one.”

“There is another? Why?”

Ethan shrugged, the movement drawing a sibilant purr from the vinyl of his sunshade. “I don’t know. Because Pedro Pascal?”

“I do not know that name. Do they yet use computer magic?”

“Seeing as no human can stretch their body like elastic and you apparently did not show up for the Invisible Girl auditions, yes.” He sent her a sidelong glance that was somehow both teasing and measuring.

Mara grumbled through her next sip of sweet mead. “I would not wish to be in a movie.”

“Hmm.” Ethan stretched. “What movies do you like?”

“There was one I remember…” She frowned. “I believe there was a cat?”

Ethan laughed. “That narrows it down, sure.” He looked at her again, his regard steady. “You’re welcome at my place for a cat movie marathon anytime.”

“My thanks.” Mara said acidly. The mead was delicious, but she was growing irritated again. Did he think they were friends now? She tipped back the can and swallowed the last drops, then set the can on the sand beside her. It looked as out of place as Ethan’s green Jeep.

“Do you recycle?” Ethan sat up suddenly, leaning out into the sunlight. It haloed the smooth waves of his hair.

Mara rolled her eyes. “Yes, there is a truck that comes here for collection every Tuesday.”

Ethan held out a hand. “Toss it. I’ve got a bag going. And I’m collecting the pop tabs.”

“Whatever for?” Mara tossed the empty can over the cactus barrier. It landed several feet away from Ethan, which had not been intentional but did serve him right. She was not here to make things easy for him.

He reached to pick it up, then vigorously wiggled the pop tab until it snapped off with a metallic ting. “My sister uses them to make chain mail.” He broke the pop tab off his own can, tucked the small pieces of metal into a pocket of his backpack, then put the cans in a half-full cloth bag.

Mara narrowed her eyes, surveying Ethan’s piles of supplies. He really had quite a lot, and now that she was looking at it, not all of it seemed to be related to his siege. There was his armor, true, and his backpack, and piles of lumber and folded ladders, but that was only half of what he’d stacked on the rocks. Why had he brought his recycling bag? And a full cooler?

What was his strategy now?

She rose to her feet abruptly. “The truce is over.”

“Already?” Ethan let out a dramatic groan. “Well, if you insist.”

He stood and stretched, his T-shirt riding up to expose a pale strip of stomach that glistened in the sunlight. The man was so sweaty. It was revolting and seductive at the same time. The sight tugged at memories of Tristan, sweet ones, and she was flushed with heat now, desire for what she could never have.

Except she could.

She could have Ethan now. She just had to step forward.

Instead she retreated into the earth, slipping through the sand until she had reached the pinnacle of the hill. She emerged in her bower of pink and yellow blossoms, not even bothering to stand, just settling into the sand and letting it buoy her up. The ripples of his steps thudded against her skin like a heartbeat.

He was assailing her hill—probably exactly the same way as before, the fool, with a stepladder and a bridge—and soon she would have to go and stop him, but she could cede the first ring. That territory was not important to her.

She would need her strength more for what came next.

Chapter nine

Siege

A twinge of disappointment seized Ethan’s heart when he stepped off his makeshift bridge and onto the sand of the hill past the first ring of cacti. Disappointment and deep mistrust. Because he knew Mara was well aware of the equipment he had, and she must have predicted he’d use the same method to get past her prickly pear moat. He’d felt like a fool setting up the stepladder and bridge—or like she’d think him a fool, which was worse.