Page 63 of Fang Fatale

A beat.

"I do."

She lets out a brittle laugh.

"That's a nice sentiment, but you're not exactly the Prince of Motives."

I resist the urge to flinch.

"That's true."

I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees.

"And if you want to leave, I won't stop you. But for what it's worth, there's not a safer place on this continent than here. Not tonight."

Birdie's eyes search my face, looking for the punchline.

When she doesn't find one, she settles cross-legged onto the rug and absently nudges the fire with the poker.

"Was the stuff you said in Dandy's living room real?"

The question lands with a crack louder than the thunder outside.

I search for a lie that won't cheapen what little we've built.

Nothing comes.

"Every word."

The admission is barely out before regret follows it.

Because the truth doesn't entitle you to anything.

Least of all the person you want.

She says nothing.

The wind shoves at the house, as though angry it can't get inside.

After a long minute, she speaks again.

"Why did you take it back, then?"

Another pause.

"Why lie?"

"Because you're not a prize."

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

She looks up.

"You're not something to be claimed just because I want you."

I stare into the fire.

"I saw what happened with Leland. How he convinced himself wanting you meant he owned you."