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How drawn is she to the dark side, and can I push her further?

“Did you kill my high school history teacher?”

I lean my head back against the warm headrest, my mouth curving into a slow, sinister line. “If I did?”

Harmony draws in a sharp breath. Her hand noticeably shakes as she reaches down toward the climate control, her elegantly tatted fingers turning the knob to crank up the heat in the car.

Is that ink or henna?

My eyes track the movement of her arm, and that’s when I spot it.

On the cuff of her sweater, near her right wrist, is a dark, wet stain. Blood. Fresh, sticky crimson soaking into the fibers of the sleeve.

My pulse spikes, a sudden, impure surge of heat rushing straight to my gut.

I glance from the blood on her sleeve back up to her face.

She isn’t looking at the heat controls anymore. She’s staring directly at me, her inquisitive eyes shining in the dim dashboard light. They burn with a furious, heated intensity that makes my blood roar.

With the sheer lust present in her stare, I decide not to question her about the stain on her wrist. Not yet. I want to savor the secrets she harbors. I want to see how long she’ll play the victim, pretending she doesn’t want this as much as I do.

“If you think I did this…why let me into your car?” My voice can’t hide the fact that I’m fucking turned on as all hell right now.

Harmony acts like she doesn’t notice the drop in the octave of my voice. The seductive way my gaze lingers on her skin.

She quickly turns her head and stares straight out at the blinding rain, her mouth parting slightly before her tongue slips past her teeth to moisten her lips.

“I’d rather have you where I can see you than constantly looking over my shoulder.”

A quiet, dark smirk tugs at the corner of my lips.

Smart girl.

“Where did you go after I went to the bathroom, Ryder?”

Her question comes immediately on the heels of her last statement. Seems she can’t stand not having all the answers.

But they will come when I’m ready. Not a moment before.

“I had something I needed to take care of.”

I keep my gaze fixed on the storm beating against her window, instead of on her. As much as I love watching her squirm, it needs to be for the right reasons. Like when I caress that tight bundle of nerves between her legs, for instance.

As the rain intensifies, it hammers down, transforming the windshield into a solid, opaque sheet of water. The puddles are deepening, causing a tidal wave of water to crash into the highway’s shoulder as the tires slice through.

I lean forward slightly to glance at the dark, rising ditches along the pavement. “The road will start to flood soon. We need to find somewhere to pull over before that happens.”

Harmony’s entire body tenses instantly.

She turns her head, slowly shifting her gaze over to me. She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t have to. I can read the deep, sudden confusion written across her features—the silent, terrified question screaming in her mind as she realizes I know this obscure stretch of road well enough to know it’s prone to sudden flash floods.

The unasked question burns in her irises.

How could a stranger know the topography of Blackwood Highway?

The visible bob of Harmony’s throat shows her distress before she forces her gaze back to the treacherous road ahead.

“I have the perfect place where we can wait out the storm.” Her voice remains guarded, laced with uncertainty.