Shaking my head, I step closer to the cell and offer the prisoner a smile. "Wanna try again? You can have a cookie."
I hold up the tin, giving it a gentle shake. The delicious scent of homemade snickerdoodle cookies wafts through the damp air of the dungeon.
Mystery Man raises an eyebrow. "Interesting form of interrogation."
"Not interrogation, just a conversation. Let's start with an easy one. What’s your name?"
“Marlow,” he says.
Well, that was easy for a man allergic to answering questions. He offered it without thinking, so it's probably his real name. One of them anyway, though it's hard to say whether it's a first or last name.
A smile forms on my lips. At least we're getting somewhere. “Hi, Marlow. I’m Wynn.”
“So nice to meet you. If you’re wondering what I’m doing here, it’s a funny story—”
I cut him off before he can start up again. “That wasn’t going to be my next question.”
“No?”
“Why don’t you want totell mewhat you’re doing here?”
That charming smirk returns to his lips. "It's in my nature. A little foreplay always adds excitement, right? Makes the reward so much sweeter."
Marlow stares right into my eyes as he says it, whispering like he's sharing a secret. His heated low voice could really have an effect on me if I let it, so I'm trying really hardnot to let itdistract me.
"Uh, I think you're full of it," I stammer. Any second now I’ll build up an immunity to his shamelessness. Hopefully.
But he did tell me his name. That means he gets a cookie.
I open the tin of fresh snickerdoodle cookies and pluck one out. The moment our fingers connect through the bars, a jolt of electricity shoots through me. The flirting and teasing may be a distraction or game, but he can't fake the tingle I feel from touching him. My breath catches in my throat as I stare into Marlow’s blue eyes, eyes filled with mischief and an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.
I shouldn't be getting cozy with a potential threat to my pack.
But I can't pull away.
Marlow leans a fraction closer, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. His hand feels nice against mine. We're trapped in this charged moment, drowning in each other's stare, and we might be stuck frozen staring at each other for all eternity until he suddenly jerks back and breaks the spell. He steps back and coughs and clears his throat like he didn’t mean to get caught in a staring contest with me.
That reaction catches me off guard, considering how brazenly he's been pushing my buttons. Marlow shakes the moment off far easier than me, acting casual as he takes a bite of the cookie. "Wow. Your prison is falling apart, but the cookies are great."
Am I imagining the moment between us?
Doesn’t matter. I have a job to do.
“What are you up to, Marlow?”
His eyes roam over my body. “Like I said, sight-seeing.”
I cross my arms, fed up. “Don’t flirt or try to distract me. Why are you really here?”
“I’m not a bad guy," he says. "Do you not trust demons?”
I blink. “I didn’t even know youwerea demon.”
“Plenty of good people are demons. My mother’s a demon!”
“Cut the crap, Marlow.”
“Okay, my mother isn’t a good person. Terrible example, not sure why I used her, but the point still stands.”
