Page 136 of Adversary to the Villain

She didn’t respond, just started walking toward his house.

“Where in the deadlands do you think you’re going?”

“To see your house. Isn’t that why you came?” Keeley threw open the door and entered without turning around, and Gideon hurried after her, stumbling over his own feet to keep up.

Gideon threw the door wide open and found her already making herself comfortable. He was so arrested by the image of her quietly perusing a bookshelf in the living room that he began to have somewhat peculiar delusions. Of the two of them living there, raising a few demon children, Gideon taking up gardening.

He shook his head, holding his temples, alarmed.

“I’m inclined to ask if it’s Evie or your father who has such an intense taste for erotica. But I’m really hoping it’s your sister.” Keeley scanned the shelves, pulling down a small paperback.

And Gideon grew more alarmed.

She opened the book, riffling through the pages. “Oh my. Is this position even possible?”

“Would you like to try?” Gideon suggested, then grunted when a throw pillow slapped against his face. “But yes, I’m sure those are Evie’s.”

Keeley squinted back at the modest bookshelf, digging for another piece of his family. She pulled down a few more books—an almanac, a cookbook—then drew a bound pile of parchment from the shelf, staring at the top page with a mix of fascination and amusement. “Trystan and the Lost Princess. By Lyssa Sage.”

His lip tugged upward. “Let me see.” They both sat down next to each other on the sofa, their legs brushing together, their eyes locking in a moment of tension, a heartbeat, and then she was tossing the books and papers into his lap. Clearing his throat, he stared down at the work. “She’s really something, isn’t she?”

Keeley hummed her agreement, leaning over his shoulder as he paged through the ten-year-old’s story. “She’s got a big imagination. That is a gift.”

“Don’t all children?” Gideon mused.

“I suppose in a sense. But not all are allowed to let it flourish. Your sister did a very good job with Lyssa; you can see that she’s fearless in who she is.” Keeley frowned, fixating on something on one of the later pages. “Huh.”

“What?” Gideon leaned over, tried to find what she saw, but when he looked up to catch her eyes, their faces were inches apart. He broke.

“If I kiss you right now, what are the chances out of ten you’ll slap me?”

“Six,” Keeley breathed.

“I’ll take those odds,” he rasped, threading his hands through her hair and pulling her lips to his, sipping at her like it was essential to life, to his next breath, and she responded in turn. Clutching at his shirt, encouraging him atop her until the pages and books fell to the ground.

She pulled his shirt from his trousers, her cold hands finding the flat of his stomach, and he hissed out a breath from the shock and the pleasure that immediately followed her touch. His lips found any part of her he could reach, brushing down her cheeks, over her jaw, down the delicate slope of her neck.

“Gideon?” Keeley’s voice was questioning, and Gideon noted how she froze beneath him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, sitting himself up, running a hand through his hair. “I got carried away.”

“No, Gideon, look.” Keeley pointed down toward the old cookbook. It had hit the ground with athud, falling open to a section of hollowed-out pages.

And what they saw…were not recipes.

Chapter 70

Trystan

“What if we ask very politely?” Sage suggested.

“We could do that,” Trystan agreed with her, “if we want them to notify every Valiant Guard within a mile radius that we are here.” She was now wearing the dress Trystan had pilfered from a nearby clothing line. It was just a touch too big for her, but it would do to at least keep her comfortable.

“They’re called the GardensofRennedawn—doesn’t that mean entry should be open to all its citizens?”

You’d think, wouldn’t you.

They were hiding behind a bush, just before the garden gates, where they could see a fenced-in field of flowers beyond. Tall trees waved at them from above the walls. “You’re thinking like a good person, Sage. You must think with Benedict’s brain.”