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She sets her jaw, refusing to speak, but I catch the shiver that racks her body as my warm breath slides against the shell of her ear.

The silence stretches between us, thick, dangerous, and electric. But before I can force the answer out of her, a harsh beam of light sweeps across the back of the game booth.

I glance over my shoulder.

Twenty yards away, the same deputy from before stands near the edge of the path, his eyes scanning the shadows.

He’s looking for me.

The suspicion in his eyes earlier wasn’t a mistake—he knows something isn’t right about the guy he doesn’t recognize covered in dark stains wandering around his carnival.

I curse under my breath, and pull the dark hood of my sweatshirt up over my head, casting my face into shadow, and step away from Harmony. Turning on my heel, I walk quickly down the dark gap between the game booths, merging into the moving crowd beyond.

I don’t look back, but I don’t have to. The quick, light crunch of Harmony’s boots follows right behind me.

She matches my stride, darting glances over her shoulder at the police officers stationed near the midway. “Are you being hunted by the law?”

There’s a mix of genuine concern and a strange, dark thrill as she keeps pace with me.

I pause for a fraction of a second, cutting a sideways glance down at her.

Hunted by the law.

Her choice of words intrigues me.

She doesn’t ask if I’m in trouble. She asks if I’m being hunted. Like she recognizes the predator in me because she’s been running from one her whole life.

Before I can answer, she grabs my hand.

Her warm fingers wrap tightly around mine.

The sudden contact shocks me, sending blood straight to my dick, causing it to harden.

She pulls me off the main carnival strip, dragging me down a grassy slope toward the quiet, deserted area near the old livestock barns.

The noise of the carnival fades into a muffled hum behind us. The only light here comes from a single old-style flickering pole lamp fifty yards away.

She stops in the shadow of a rusted tractor, releasing my hand, and turns to face me. Her chest heaves with quick, shallow breaths.

“How did you get the blood on your jeans, Ryder?” she demands, her eyes locked onto the dark, stiff patches on my legs.

I pull my hood back slightly, letting a slow, dangerous smile touch my lips. “How do you know it’s real blood, pretty girl? It’s Halloween.”

Harmony rolls her eyes, giving me an exasperated, furious look that makes my dick jump, banging against the tough material of my jeans. It wants so badly to come out and play.

Her voice drops into a hard, cold tone. “Don’t play stupid with me. I know what blood looks like. I’ve seen the way it dries. What it smells like when it gets warm.”

I step closer to her, lowering my head until I’m staring straight into her eyes. “Does it frighten you, Harmony?”

She doesn’t flinch. She steps right into my space, her tits brushing against my chest. Her nipples harden at the contact; the material of her shirt doing nothing to hide it.

“Answer my question first. Are you wanted by the cops?” she demands as if she doesn’t know exactly where my focus has drifted to.

My eyes slide up from her palm-sized breast to her ethereal features.

A dark and sinister force slithers low in my gut. The light-hearted teasing fades away, giving way to the deadly hunter who has been trailing her for fifteen years.

Before she can even process the shift in the air, I move.