Patch's eyes were slate black, darker than a million secrets stacked on top of each other. He dropped his gaze to the ring in his hand, turning it over slowly.

"Swear you'll never stop loving me," I whispered.

Ever so slightly, he nodded.

How about a ... deal?" His face was bent down, shadowed, and he looked up at me through his lashes. The effect was an impression of trustworthiness. "Help me make tacos, and I'll answer a dew of your questions.

He tried to pull me against him, and I bit him on the lip.
He licked his lip with the tip of his tongue. 'Did you just bite me?

He inclined his head at my dress. "What's the occasion?"

"Homecoming," I said, twirling. "Like?"

"Last I heard, Homecoming requires a date."

"About that," I hedged. "I'm sort of...going with Scott. We both figure a high-school dance is the last place Hank will be patrolling."

Patch smiled, but it was tight. "I take that back. If Hank wants to shoot Scott, he has my blessing.

I can't imagine why you're so interested."
He shook his head. "Interested? We're talking about you. I'm fascinated.

I love you more than I think I should.