shirt clung to hard abs and how tight his ass looked in that denim.
Her lip curled with disgust. But at the same time her belly warmed. No. Just…no . “You’re not allowed to leave the residence, Human.”
“I don’t know how you divvy property here in your Wildlands, but where I come from this is still the residence.”
“Where you come from.” She sniffed. “They have porches attached to Locke’s laboratories now, do they?”
“Who’s Locke?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please.”
He didn’t say anything for a second. He was pouring lemonade into glasses. But when he took a seat, he said, “Iowa.”
“What?”
He turned to look at her, those blue eyes annoyingly friendly. “I’m from Iowa. Originally. Farming family. Mostly soybeans.”
She stared at him. She didn’t want to know this. Any of this. Personal information. It made one weak and vulnerable to attack. She would never be weak again. Her stomach growled.
“Oh come on,” he said. “Your body’s in a state of revolt. This fried chicken’s delicious. And it’ll tide you over until something more human comes along.”
She sneered at him. “The only human I’m interested in eating is you.”
Rosalie didn’t realize how that sounded until the man’s mouth curved up into one of the sexiest smiles she’d ever seen. Then she wanted to just curl up in a ball and roll right off the porch.
But of course she didn’t. She lifted her chin and said arrogantly, “You know what I mean.”
His blue eyes flashed. “You’re scared to get too close to me.” He nodded. “Understandable.”
“No. That’s not it. At all.”
“You sure?” He smiled, then started making soft clucking sounds.
She shook her head and heaved a sigh. “You’re super annoying.”
Didn’t stop him from continuing on.
“Also, that’s really inappropriate when you’re actually eating the chicken.”
His grin only widened as he clucked.
“Oh, fine!” she heaved, walking over and grabbing a chicken leg off the table. “I’ll eat if you stop.”
He did, then patted the seat beside him. “Come on, Hunter. I won’t bite.”
“Of course you won’t,” she said, tearing into the chicken as she remained standing. She was starving. Hadn’t realized how starving until right that moment. “You’re a weak-blooded human.”
He tossed her the side-eye. “Who had you bound and on your back in under a minute.”
She glared at him.
He grinned. Again. “Can I ask you something, Kitten?”
“‘Hunter’ is fine.”
He pouted for one quick second, then said, “I understand the dislike of humans now that your world has been outed, and they’re filled with curiosity and fear. I understand the distrust. But your hate runs deep. Blood deep. Why?”
Her insides clenched. “Hand me that lemonade.”
He did, but didn’t let up on the questions. “Raphael alluded to something…something you’re going through.”
Rosalie reached for a biscuit, though her stomach was in knots. “You’re right. This food is good.”
He sniffed. “Okay. Got it. None of my business.”
Damn right it wasn’t. But not only that, she refused to go personal with this human. It was the first rule of guarding a prisoner, which he pretty much was. You don’t ask or answer anything that could make you vulnerable.
But as she finished off her biscuit, she broke that rule. “So, you grew up on a farm?”
“Yup,” he said, taking a bite of an apple. “Loved it. Open air, miles and miles of land. It was simple.”
“Sounds pretty perfect.”
He nodded. “Was.”
“So why did you leave?” And head for Locke’s lab? Glory? Money?
“My parents passed away in an accident my senior year of high school. After I graduated, I just didn’t want to stay, you know? They were the only family I had, and it was lonely...”
Her heart squeezed a bit. Loss was really something they shared. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “I sold the place to a nice family. Then, I joined the
Her lip curled with disgust. But at the same time her belly warmed. No. Just…no . “You’re not allowed to leave the residence, Human.”
“I don’t know how you divvy property here in your Wildlands, but where I come from this is still the residence.”
“Where you come from.” She sniffed. “They have porches attached to Locke’s laboratories now, do they?”
“Who’s Locke?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please.”
He didn’t say anything for a second. He was pouring lemonade into glasses. But when he took a seat, he said, “Iowa.”
“What?”
He turned to look at her, those blue eyes annoyingly friendly. “I’m from Iowa. Originally. Farming family. Mostly soybeans.”
She stared at him. She didn’t want to know this. Any of this. Personal information. It made one weak and vulnerable to attack. She would never be weak again. Her stomach growled.
“Oh come on,” he said. “Your body’s in a state of revolt. This fried chicken’s delicious. And it’ll tide you over until something more human comes along.”
She sneered at him. “The only human I’m interested in eating is you.”
Rosalie didn’t realize how that sounded until the man’s mouth curved up into one of the sexiest smiles she’d ever seen. Then she wanted to just curl up in a ball and roll right off the porch.
But of course she didn’t. She lifted her chin and said arrogantly, “You know what I mean.”
His blue eyes flashed. “You’re scared to get too close to me.” He nodded. “Understandable.”
“No. That’s not it. At all.”
“You sure?” He smiled, then started making soft clucking sounds.
She shook her head and heaved a sigh. “You’re super annoying.”
Didn’t stop him from continuing on.
“Also, that’s really inappropriate when you’re actually eating the chicken.”
His grin only widened as he clucked.
“Oh, fine!” she heaved, walking over and grabbing a chicken leg off the table. “I’ll eat if you stop.”
He did, then patted the seat beside him. “Come on, Hunter. I won’t bite.”
“Of course you won’t,” she said, tearing into the chicken as she remained standing. She was starving. Hadn’t realized how starving until right that moment. “You’re a weak-blooded human.”
He tossed her the side-eye. “Who had you bound and on your back in under a minute.”
She glared at him.
He grinned. Again. “Can I ask you something, Kitten?”
“‘Hunter’ is fine.”
He pouted for one quick second, then said, “I understand the dislike of humans now that your world has been outed, and they’re filled with curiosity and fear. I understand the distrust. But your hate runs deep. Blood deep. Why?”
Her insides clenched. “Hand me that lemonade.”
He did, but didn’t let up on the questions. “Raphael alluded to something…something you’re going through.”
Rosalie reached for a biscuit, though her stomach was in knots. “You’re right. This food is good.”
He sniffed. “Okay. Got it. None of my business.”
Damn right it wasn’t. But not only that, she refused to go personal with this human. It was the first rule of guarding a prisoner, which he pretty much was. You don’t ask or answer anything that could make you vulnerable.
But as she finished off her biscuit, she broke that rule. “So, you grew up on a farm?”
“Yup,” he said, taking a bite of an apple. “Loved it. Open air, miles and miles of land. It was simple.”
“Sounds pretty perfect.”
He nodded. “Was.”
“So why did you leave?” And head for Locke’s lab? Glory? Money?
“My parents passed away in an accident my senior year of high school. After I graduated, I just didn’t want to stay, you know? They were the only family I had, and it was lonely...”
Her heart squeezed a bit. Loss was really something they shared. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “I sold the place to a nice family. Then, I joined the
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