“C’mon, sweetness. You don’t have to run. I won’t hurt you.”A pause, as though he was contemplating.“Much.” he amended, punctuating this last with a high-pitched tittering laugh that seemed to settle at the base of her neck like a giant insect, making her grind her teeth.”

“A gurgling chuckle came from behind him; Jonas had heard it often enough to know that it signified something as close to laughter as the creature ever got. “Yet you believe those things won’t come if you serve your Lord? You know what they say about the road to Hell, Judas.”

“William strode to her. That’s how it’s done. Drink it in.She surveyed the carnage behind him. “Did you have fun?”He showed her his teeth. “Yes. Now they won’t take you anywhere.”Cerise stepped closer to him, so close he only needed to lean in and dip his head and he would kiss her. Since he saved her, maybe he could just grab her and—“That was the stupidest thing you have done since I’ve met you,” she ground out through her teeth.Belay the grabbing.”

“He isn’t so much flirting,” Cerise murmured. “Either he doesn’t like me or he doesn’t know how.”“Of course he likes you. You’re lovely. He probably just doesn’t get it. Some men have to be hit over the head with it. Her aunt rolled her eyes. “I thought I’d have to draw your uncle Jean a giant sign. That or kidnap him and have my evil way with him, until he got the message.”

“William leaned forward and pointed at the river. “I don’t know why you rolled in spaghetti sauce,” he said in a confidential voice. “I don’t really care. But that water over there won’t hurt you. Try washing it off.”She stuck her tongue out.“Maybe after you’re clean,” he said.Her eyes widened. She stared at him for a long moment. A little crazy spark lit up in her dark irises.She raised her finger, licked it, and rubbed some dirt off her forehead.Now what?The girl showed him her stained finger and reached toward him slowly, aiming for his face.“No,” William said. “Bad hobo.”

“She surveyed the carnage behind him. "Did you have fun?"He showed her his teeth. "Yes.”

“It's not a loup cage, you know,' I told her. 'It's a holding cell. Or safe room. or secure room. I don't think Jim ever settled on a term he could live with.''Aha. It's a loup cage.' Andrea cleared her throat. 'I touched it with my finger and it hurt. Is that in case of marital problems?”