The Hound in question had her fingertips grazing the bare skin under the edge of his shirt. She was still leaning into him as they walked back toward the car.

“Ani?”

“Mmmm?” She stayed near him, acting as if they were… something.

“What are you doing?” He was loath to ask, fearing that any answer she offered would be disappointing. He had no business allowing himself fond thoughts of the Hound. He’d known for years that it was inappropriate to let emotion cloud his judgment.

She looked up at him with a mischievous expression on her face. “How High Court are you, Devlin?”

He couldn’t answer, not truthfully. Or maybe because I don’t know anymore. Reluctantly, he stepped away from her. “I am the High Queen’s Bloody Hands, Ani. How High Court do you think that makes me?”

She hopped up onto the hood of the car, which had shifted form while they were away from it. Once more, it had become a Barracuda. Idly, she patted its hood. “Honestly? I think you’re a lot more like my court than you’re admitting.”

He stepped closer, so that he was beside her. He lowered his voice and said, “You’re a child. I wouldn’t expect you to—”

“A child?” Her voice was dangerously soft, and the glint in her eyes was one he recognized.

Part of his mind—the reasonable part—warned him away from answering her, but instincts he typically repressed urged him forward. The two responses warred momentarily, but despite centuries of choosing logic, he knew that logic wasn’t what he wanted. If he were truly logical, he’d put her in the earth before he went even further from sanity. His queen might overlook his lapse in obedience. Rae would have to forgive him in time. He needed to put things back in order.

I can’t.

“Are you trying to tell me that I imagined your interest when we met?” She straightened one denim-clad leg in front of her. The other leg was bent, so that her right foot was flat on the hood of the car. “No parsed words. Tell me why you’re helping me, or tell me why you won’t admit the urge that went with the look back there. You were honestly worried for me.”

He wanted to take the openings in her sentences to mislead her—almost as much as he wanted to tell her the truth. “Does it matter?”

“I just met you, but you seem more worried about my safety that most everyone I know… and that’s saying something.” She put a hand on either side of her hips, bracing herself. “Yeah, I think it must matter.”

He watched her get ready to spring at him. “I’m stronger than you. It’s logical that I keep you safe.”

“It’s not logical.” She tilted her head and widened her eyes beseechingly. “You know what I am, Devlin. Do you expect me to just sit next to the strongest faery I’ve met outside my court and not wonder why he’s appeared out of nowhere and worrying over my safety?”

“My motives shouldn’t matter.” Devlin couldn’t say they didn’t matter: that would be a lie.

“Tell me why.” Her words weren’t a request, but an order. “Tell me why if it isn’t personal. I almost believed it was just business, but you weren’t looking at me like business when you followed me, and you sure as hell weren’t thinking High Court thoughts when I touched your skin. Tell me why you want me with you.”

He wasn’t going to answer that, not now, and possibly not ever. He held out a hand. “Come. We need to go. Just get in the car—”

“Trouble!” she interrupted. Ani slid off the hood of the car. Her gaze was no longer on him.

He turned so they were side-by-side.

Two Ly Ergs approached, one from either side. Another faery, a female thistle-fey, stood a slight distance away. They were Dark Court faeries, but the Ly Ergs often allied with Bananach. Devlin didn’t know whether they were sent in pursuit or had simply come upon them. What he did know, however, was that they were a problem that needed to be resolved quickly.

“I’ll take the Ly Ergs,” Ani said.

“Not both.” He saw Ani out of the corner of his eye and was aware that the car had shifted into a great reptilian beast. The steed and all of the faeries were invisible to the mortals in the parking lot.

“Come on.” She didn’t look away from them, but her tone was as good as a glare. “There’s only two. You go after her.”

“One.” He tracked the Ly Ergs, watching the calmness evident in the muscles not yet tensed, the heartbeats not accelerating. They were trained fighters, unlike the thistle- fey, who stayed back watching.

“You’re as bad as Irial,” she muttered as she lunged at one Ly Erg, and Devlin was torn between instinct and an unfamiliar urge to watch her. Logic won.

Or maybe a hunger for discord.

When it came to fighting, it wasn’t logic that ruled him. Then, he accepted both sides of his heritage: the precision in eliminating his opponents balanced with glee in the bloodletting.

“Come and get it,” Ani challenged. A long knife was in her hand as she advanced on her target; a second short knife was in the other hand.

Devlin scanned the woods: several other faeries became clear among the trees. He wanted to tell Ani, wished briefly that he could speak to her as her steed did, but as he glanced at her, she tilted her head, sniffed, and smiled. She was more Hound than not. His sight allowed him to know the same thing her sense of scent revealed to her.

“More fun, Dev,” she called as she tried again to skewer the Ly Erg in front of her. “I’ll get at least two after all.”