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Mariah and Ali.

The Harvest.

The fucking farm.

For one suspended moment, there is only Ezra standing in front of me looking like wanting me might destroy whatever is left of him.

“What?”

He looks away. “Leave it alone.”

“No.”

“Sage.”

“What do you want?”

His gaze comes back to mine.

Then drops to my mouth.

And there it is.

Finally.

Not anger. Not judgment. Not jealousy.

Hunger.

Raw enough to steal my breath.

Terrified enough to make my chest ache.

He wants me, and he fucking hates himself for it.

“Ezra.”

His eyes close again.

I step closer. “What do you want?”

When he finally looks at me, every wall he’s spent the entire night hiding behind is gone.

“You.”

My breath catches.

One word.

That’s all it takes.

You.

The house shudders. The red mark around my wrist burns. Ezra hears me gasp. His eyes snap back. “No.” He backs away.

“Ezra.”

“No.” Another step. Then he turns and runs out of the room, down the stairs. The front door slams and I stare after him.