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“Technically—”

“What the fuck, Damian?”

“There it is,” Owen mutters.

I glare at him. Megan comes around the desk, angry as fuck.

She's tiny compared to me. But that doesn't matter.

I'm suddenly more afraid of five-foot-something Megan DiNapoli than I have ever been of anything. Including, the entire Arrhythmia Volunteer Fire Department coming at me with garden sheers when I was stuck in that fucking tree.

“It wasn't planned!”

“Did you explain afterward?”

“I fell asleep.”

“Before you explained?”

“Look, I didn't know she was my promised before.”

“Did she know a claiming bite was possible?”

“No.”

“Did you tell her what being your promised meant?”

“No.”

“Did you tell her you were dying?”

“I am not fucking dying.”

Owen raises an eyebrow.

“You asked me to kill you three days ago.”

Delilah's head whips around.

“You what?”

“Stay out of it.”

“I work here.”

“Work somewhere else.”

She looks at Owen.

“Can I?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

Megan folds her arms.

“So Belinda went to bed thinking you were offering her one night with no promises, and she woke up mystically claimed to a Jersey Devil.”