The Hunter Beside Me

21: Trowel

Owen

After Bash said he and Lilla were sleeping outside, I stretched out on the worn cushions of the couch and stuffed a pillow behind my head. The faint scent of vanilla wafted from the blanket as I draped it over myself, and thoughts of Becks filled my mind. Balling the cover up, I tossed it into the chair. I couldn't rest with her in my brain.

It'd been a long day. First, expecting to die, and then finding Bash's mom's necklace and worrying about him. I'd rather have fought more mimics; it'd be less draining than all that emotional crap.

I fell asleep to the sound of Lilla's shower running before Bash even finished carrying stuff to the truck.

A weight landed on me, pressing my arms into the couch. I turned my hands over to grab what pinned me down. My eyes snapped open. The jean-clad legs belonged to Becks; she was kneeling on my forearms.

My sight adjusted to the low light coming through the windows, and I relaxed my grip as she stared at the cold metal she had pressed to my neck. Her other hand held a knife with the tip pricking the skin over my heart. She was straddling me, though, so it wasn't the worst way to wake up.

I smirked up at her. "You keep holding knives to my throat. Is this a weird kink? Because, baby, you just gotta let me know."

Her eyebrows pulled together. "What?"

I lifted my hips, and she gasped before glaring at me. I wanted to laugh, but it didn't seem as though she'd appreciate that.

"Cut it out. It's not a knife, it's a trowel."

She held up the tiny shovel, and it was my turn to be confused. "Why are you holding a garden tool to my neck?"

"It was handy, and it's iron." Shrugging, she touched it to my cheek and watched me for a reaction. When I didn't move, she dropped it on the floor but didn't remove her blade from its place over my heart.

I glanced at the hand that was one hard push from killing me. "What about that? I'm sure it's a knife."

"Yep."

"Groovy. Want to tell me why? Because before this, there was definitely something between us."

Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to form an answer. Take your time. I was reasonably certain she wouldn't kill me, and seeing her hover over me could've been a dream. She was gorgeous. Plus, she got the drop on me again, and that shit was hot.

Finally, she said, "There might've been feelings before you acted like a mimic."

My mouth popped open. "What?"

"You guys were bizarre before we fought today. Then, when Catriona died, you all looked terrified. The way Bash held Lilla, and the two of you gaped at each other, it was like you expected to turn to dust."

Shit. She was too observant. "You assumed we were monsters, so you brought us to your house?"

"I saw you kill them today, and hoped maybe you were mimics with a conscience, but I won't be lied to, and Emory wouldn't have been able to handle it. I needed to be sure."

"Well, we're not mimics. Can you take the weapon away?"

She squinted as she thought about it. "No, I don't trust you yet. You're hiding things, and I'm not moving until you tell me."

I could toss her off, but if she felt safe up there, I'd let her stay. "Alright. What do you want to know?"

Her mouth pinched to the side. "How about why you looked like you expected to die?"