Page 20 of Apprentice to the Villain

She shook her head. “Never mind. Forget I asked. That was silly.” Her strides became longer, more determined. She’d wasted too much time.

“Sage,” he whispered. “Where are you going? The manor is that way.”

“I’m going to the ravine.”

He stood right next to her, his face impossible to read. “Has working for me become that bad?” he deadpanned.

She snorted, shouldering past him, stumbling over her skirts for what felt like the millionth time. She glared at the hem and then stared at him. He arched a brow in question as she lifted it with a frank grin.

“Rip it off.”

The Villain’s and Kingsley’s mouths opened in tandem, so comedic a view that she bit her lip to keep from chortling. Composing herself—poorly—she said, “I cannot continue back to the manor with the hem tangling about my feet.”

He choked out, “Could you try?”

She folded her arms, arching a brow. “What are you so afraidof, evil overlord?”

“Afraid?” His low voice was like two stones rubbing together.

Kingsley hopped from Trystan’s shoulder, sensing the danger—or perhaps just the awkwardness. In the dim light of the moon, she could just barely make out the lock of his heavily shadowed jaw as her boss dropped to his knees in front of her. The sight of his dark head made her stomach pool with warmth.

With a grim, businesslike determination, he took the thin fabric and wrenched it in two so the hem brushed the tops of her knees. She gasped as cool night air kissed her skin, wishing a little that he would do the same.

Don’t wish for the boss to kiss your skin, Evie!

Even if that sounds…entirely too pleasant.

His large hand was warm against the bare skin of her legs, his fingers resting around her thigh a little longer than could be reasonably explained away. “There.” His breathing was labored—she could hear it. It matched hers.

She backed away before she did something completely mad like grab his hand and return it to her thigh. He’d probably reel back, appalled. Whether their attraction was mutual or not, the boss was clearly too weighed down by professionalism to act on any lurid thoughts, and she’d just have to live with that.

The way one lived with a fork through a lung.

“Right, um—thank you.” She continued toward her destination, moving easier when he came up beside her, scoping out the area for threats.

“Here’s a good spot to head into the trees.” He nodded toward the forest. “I can get us home from there.”

“As I said, sir, I’m going to the ravine.” She kept walking, stiffening her back. “I have a plan. Trust me.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “A terrifying prospect. Sage, I must insist that—” But he stopped, obscenities leaving his mouth in rapid succession as he shoved her ahead,scooping up Kingsley. “Run!Now!”

“There they are!” The guards burst from the trees, but she was already moving, quicker without the threat of her hem tangling about her feet.

She kept going, sprinting faster, her hair whipping around her, some pieces sticking to her face as grass stuck to the bottom of her thin slippers. The ravine’s edge appeared on the horizon. So close. Blood pumped hard through her veins as she pounded against the soft grass, surprised when she turned to find the boss doing the same beside her. His legs were longer, his body lither; he could move faster if he wanted to.

But just like the first time they met, he slowed to keep pace with her.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, grabbing his hand as they inched closer and closer to the edge. There was only the merest hint of hesitation in his voice as he said, “Are we going over, then?”

He would follow her off a cliff without question.

And Evie knew she was in love with him. Right then, right there.

She could only hope the final piece of her plan was still in place…

They reached the edge, not stopping as she screamed, “Don’t let go of my hand!”

His only response was the tightening of his fingers, and then they were airborne together, for just a moment, her heart bottoming out as she swallowed a scream. She felt the loom of death as wind brushed her cheeks, suspended until—