Page 40 of Auctioned to the Devil

“Because we’re stuck here together.”

“I’m aware.”

“And this is fake.”

“What is?”

“Us.”

He leans back.

“There is no us.”

“Exactly.”

“Then why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

His eyes drop to my fingers.

I’m twisting the edge of my napkin.

I stop.

“Cute.”

“Shut up.”

He smiles.

Actually smiles.

It changes his whole face.

And that nearly steals my breath.

That night, I wake at two seventeen.

A floorboard creaks downstairs.

I sit up.

Another sound.

Metal.

My heart jumps.

I slip out of bed and creep toward the stairs.

Caleb stands near the front door.

Barefoot.

Shirtless.

Rifle in his hand.