Chapter 4

“J-J-Jared? W-w-what have I d-d-done?” Brandon’s voice was quiet, the hint of a southern accent softening the edges of his words.

“You haven’t done anything,” I reassured him, making sure I spoke softly.

Confusion creased his brow, and he slightly tilted his head like he was trying to work something out. What it did was expose the column of his neck. I wanted to bite it.

“B-b-but you k-k-keep…” he paused, and inhaled sharply. When he was once against centered, he spoke, his words surer. “You’re always s-staring at me. I reckon that means you must think I’m a threat of s-some s-sort.”

There were about a dozen answers I could have given him, and every one of them was plausible. Every one of them had, at least, a kernel of truth. But I hated games, and I didn’t play them. It wasted too much time and energy, and I refused to lie. I would give him the truth, and he would do with it what he wanted.