Page 19 of Puck Me Twice Over

Knox Vandevere couldn’t promise me anything, and we both knew it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

FELICITY

“Wake up, Flick.” Knox's pick up still rumbled beneath me, but the engine had wound down. His lips pressed to my temple. “We’re here.”

My lips tingled in response, even though I just woke up. I blinked dozy eyes and stared out the windshield at the warmly lit two story luxury mountain cabin. “How long was I out?”

The fight on my old doorstep—at Garrett’s house, not mine, not any more— sent me spiraling. As though sensing my imminent tumble over the edge of reality, Knox caught my jaw in both hands.

“Uh uh. Stay here with me, Flick. Right here. Okay?” Dark eyes searched mine.

I managed a tiny nod. “Here. With you,” I echoed, a flimsy version of the real thing.

You’re not worthy of his attention. You aren't a Chimera bunny. He’ll throw you aside.

Wasn’t that what Garrett had said, or something similar? The mish-mash of words chirped in my brain soup until I fell dizzy with it, and I hadn't even left the cab of the truck yet.

“You don’t want someone broken like me,” I whispered.

Knox’s eyes flashed, and I knew I’d made a mistake. “I fell for you years ago.” His knuckles grazed over my cheeks, then he cupped the side of my face and I nestled there, letting out a shuddering breath. “What makes you think anything has changed?”

My eyes flew open in full. “What?”

His gaze remained steady. “Not a damn thing changed on my side, Flick. Nothing at all.” His quiet tone lanced straight through me.

While I was catching my breath at that declaration, he climbed out of the driver’s seat and walked around to my side in steady, long strides. I watched every one, too exhausted and intimidated to move. When he opened my door, I still hadn’t budged.

“I remember this place,” I admitted, staring at the house.

“Yeah?” He undid my seatbelt, letting his hands linger across my stomach.

I shivered in response. For a man who barely touched me yesterday, Knox was fairly handy right now. “Yeah,” I murmured. “I remember coming here with your family. How your mom would cook and every one—all your friends would fill every corner of the place. It was always noisy.”

Knox slid his hands under my arms and drew me against his body and out of the truck holding me up effortlessly until my feet dangled above the ground. “I remember that too.” He kissed me quickly and then placed me on the ground.

I blinked at him, swaying a little. “You’re making my head spin."

“Not yet.” He squared my hand. “Come on. Do you remember where everything is inside?”

“I— Maybe?” I frowned, thinking back. “It’s been years,” I said a little defensively.

“I bet you do.” His breath brushed the back of my neck where he swept my hair aside. “Why don’t you head in and I’ll get some lights going for us?”

“I mean I can try—” I twisted, but he’d already disappeared into the shadows around the side of the house.

Cabin.

It didn’t matter. Either way, the two story giant wooden luxury cabin that used to have lights that warmed every window and that glowed with love and warmth and family and laughter now sat dark.

In the middle of a forest.

The whole area seemed silent and deserted. As though no one lived here or had visited the house in the woods for a very long time. And I stood with my arms wrapped around myself in front of the building like bait in a horror movie approaching climax hour.

“Knox?” I took a tentative step toward the porch. The wrap-around was held up with struts all across the front, and the corners were decorated with pretty filigree architraves. Well, they were pretty, in the light. Right now the entire house was shrouded in a deer charcoal gray that reflected no light whatsoever. Even the windows appeared as deep, soul-less holes. I swore the temperature had plummeted five degrees or more in the last minute.

“Knox?” I tried again, edging closer to the porch, torn between darting for the stairs and running for the car, which left me frozen in the middle of No-Flick-land. I bit my lip, unwilling to be the screaming cheerleader type. Though I’d never been a cheerleader, and I certainly wouldn’t fit into a uniform.