Burns from dropped matches, Ms. Lane? Matches one might have dropped while flirting with a pernicious
Fae, Ms. Lane? Have you any idea the value of this rug?”

I didn’t think his nostrils could flare any wider. His eyes were black flame. “Pernicious? Good grief, is English
your second language? Third?” Only someone who’d learned English from a dictionary would use such a word.

“Fifth,” he snarled. “Answer me.

Home, Ms. Lane?” His deep voice was gently amused.

“I have to call it something,” I said morosely. “They say home is where the heart is. I think mine’s satin-lined
and six feet under.

I couldn‘t tell the difference between the two of you anymore!" he roared.

I smashed my fist into his face. Lies roll off us. It‘s the truths we work hardest to silence.

Then you weren‘t looking hard enough! I‘m the one with boobs!"

I know you‘re the one with boobs!They‘re in my fucking face every fucking time I turn around!

Every time I think I’m getting smarter I realize that I’ve just done something stupid. Dad says there are three kinds of people in the world: those who don’t know, and don’t know they don’t know; those who don’t know and do know they don’t know; and those who know and know how much they still don’t know.

Heavy stuff, I know. I think I’ve finally graduated from the don’t-knows that don’t know to the don’t-knows
that do.

Barrons had just given me the most carnal, sexually charged hungry look I'd ever seen in my life, and I was pretty sure he didn't even know he had done it.

Ancient eyes had stared at me, filled with ancient grief. And something more. Something so alien and unexpected that I'd almost burst into tears. I'd seen many things in his eyes in the time that I'd known him: lust, amusement, sympathy, mockery, caution, fury. But I had never seen this.

Hope. Jericho Barrons had hope, and I was the reason for it.

I would never forget his smile. It had illuminated him from the inside out.