Bastian fixed me with a cold, hard stare and said, "Surely you see how this looks, Sugar."

My ears rang and rang and rang. I blinked. "How...how this looks?" I squeaked. My throat stuck together. I licked my lips and swallowed.

"Well, yes. Professor Miller left everything to you. Out of anyone, you have the most to gain by her death."

I sputtered. "Wait. You—you think I did this?!"

"As I said, how well do—did—you know her?"

I exhaled, all the fight sliding right out of me. "Am I under arrest or something? Are you an undercover cop? Are the Fae trying to bring me in? Trying to off me? Do I need to hire a lawyer? Should I—"

Bastian growled. "Enough! I'm a bounty hunter not a police officer. All of this is off record, for now. But yes, I'm looking for Professor Miller's killer and I admit, you're at the top of my list." He set his empty snifter on the side table and leaned forward, resting his tattooed forearms on his knees.

My skin crawled beneath that severe gaze. Those green eyes didn't feel hot and enticing anymore. Instead, they left me panicked, heart racing.

I opened my mouth to speak. A choking sound came out. "I...I didn't do it. This is..." A deranged laugh bubbled up from my chest. "It's ridiculous. I haven't spoken to Jane in two years, at least."

"So, you do know her, then." He lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah, I mean, years ago."

"Uh-huh. And...why haven't you spoken to her since?"

Hot guilt dropped into my belly. "I...we fell out of touch, I guess."

"Right." His tone said he didn't believe me. "What was the nature of your relationship? How did you know each other? Why would she leave everything to you?"

"I knew her from the university," I said, my voice falling quiet.

"How so?"

I gave him an idiotic glare. "How do you think? I was a student there." I rubbed a hand over my face.

"A student. Right." He bobbed his head. "Funny, because when I looked through the university records, there was no trace of you."

I swallowed. Shit. I'd forgotten about that. My nostrils flared.

His expression spoke volumes. His eyes raked over me, convinced. Like he'd already made his mind up about me earlier and was merely pretending to play along. This asshole thought I was lying. That burrowed beneath my skin, making my muscles go tight. I didn't mind being misjudged by people, but I hated, absolutely hated, when someone didn't believe me. Luke had never believed me; never taken me seriously.

Clenching my teeth, I said, "I'm sure you look at me, and all you see is a party girl with pink hair who doesn't care about her future, who has no greater ambition than exotic dancing, half naked in a cage, starving for tips,"—he frowned, possibly at the venom in my voice—"but once upon a time, I was a master's student at WU, working on my thesis."

The truth was, I had a passion for art history and archeology. The study of people and what they found beautiful. The types of things they crafted that had survived them over the ages. That dream had been taken from me.

"You expect me to believe that?" Bastian asked. "That you were a master's student."

My eyes bulged. I held my jaw together. "Look, asshole, I didn't realize Jane successfully removed me from the records, all right. I knew she was going to try. I never checked."

"That raises plenty of additional questions. But we'll table it for now." His voice was calm, like my words had no effect. "Let's say I believe you. Let's say you were a student at WU and what, got your master's degree? Then what?"

I swallowed. "I never finished—never got my degree. I...left the university."

"All right. To do what?"

I tutted, astounded, and leaned back, gesticulating to my hair and outfit, like it should have been obvious.

He raised his eyebrows and said, "Fine. And you've been working at Vortex ever since?"

"That about sums it up," I said, caring little for the hard edge in my voice.

"Except, it doesn't, Sugar. Not really." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Like, for example, why did you leave the university? And why didn't you stay in touch with Professor Miller?"

My cheeks flushed. "My reasons for leaving are...private. I don't want to talk about that."

"Hmm...how convenient."

My anger flared hot. "You're such a fucking asshole, you know that?" I hissed.

Done. I was fucking done with this guy. It was one thing to be rude. Another to sit there insulting me. I'd had enough of that sort of behavior to last a lifetime.

I stood and stalked out of the room, straight for the front door. Shoving my feet into my boots, zipping them up, I decided to take my chances walking home. Better than sitting here accused of murder.

"Sugar, where do you think you're going?" His voice exuded a level of patience that raked over me.

"Home," I snapped, reaching for the doorknob. It didn't turn. I twisted and yanked, then swore. "Why won't the door open?" He didn't answer. "You're joking, right?"

A gnawing feeling settled over me. I looked at the nearest window and strode over to it. Flipping the latch, I pushed upward. It didn't budge. Stuck. Like it was never intended to be opened.

Magic. It had to be. I'd seen the blue glow. This asshole had trapped me in his house.

"Are you fucking serious?" I rounded on Bastian. He stood in the archway now, arms crossed, leaning against it. The corner of his lips twitched.

"You think this is fucking funny?" I roared.

"I think it's fucking cute, sure."

I opened and closed my mouth. "Great. I'm glad you get such a kick out of me. I want to go home. Now. I'm done playing your question games. We're through."

"Not going to happen. We're not done here, and it's almost two in the morning. I'm not taking you home right now."

I balked. "Seriously? What the fuck else do you want to know?" I all but yelled, lifting my hands.

"I want your input. If not you, who do you think could have killed Professor Miller? I want to know how, exactly, you two knew each other. How close you were. Close, obviously, if she left everything to you. You're my best lead at the moment. You think I'd let you just...walk through that door?"

I took a deep breath. When I let it out, all the energy I'd mustered drained right away. I swayed on my feet then caught myself. Exhaustion was driving into me. I didn't have the patience for this.

"You really want to catch her killer?" I asked, voice low. Until this moment, I'd been on the defensive. I hadn't considered the implications. Jane Miller was dead. Never mind that she'd left everything to me, which was still a shock I hadn't quite processed. But, I cared about her, even if we hadn't spoken for years.

Someone deserved justice for what was done to her.

Bastian might have wanted her killer for financial reasons. Me? I wanted that asshole, brought to justice. This was personal. I looked Bastian up and down. He looked like a mean mother fucker. If anyone could make it happen, he could.

"That's what I've been paid for, yes," he said, as if reading my thoughts.

"But...you think it's me, and I take offense with that."

"Sugar, I've seen lambs capable of ripping a person's face off."

A laugh burst from my lips. "I don't know whether to be offended or flattered. That you think I'm a lamb, or that you think I could rip someone's face off. I'd like to rip yours off, for starters. And believe me, if I could, I'd have done it already."

The corner of his mouth didn't just twitch, it pulled right up into a smile—the first I'd seen. My stomach flopped over, going fluttery. There on his cheek, a dimple appeared. I stared, transfixed.

"All right," he said, lifting his hands, taking a step back. "What if I rescind my accusations? What if I decide it wasn't you? Would you answer my questions, help me get to the bottom of this?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "Do I get another glass of whisky?" I scoffed, indignantly.

"Sugar, you can have the whole fucking bottle if it means you'll get that cute little ass back on that couch and start talking."

"Fine." A sinuous smirk formed on my lips. I all but sashayed past him, flicking my pink locks over my shoulder, right back into the sitting room. "Glad you think I have a cute ass," I purred, then dropped that ass back into my seat. I lifted my feet, pulling my boots off, chucking them at Bastian's face. He caught them, effortlessly, lifting his eyebrows before dropping them into the foyer.

While he poured another two fingers of whisky for me, this time bringing the bottle with him, setting it on the wooden tray, I took a deep breath and got started.

"I met Professor Miller while I was in my undergrad at WU. She taught my art history classes. I knew I wanted to study historical art and cultures, history of things both known and unknown, stuff like that. Most humans don't know it, but many ancient things have magical qualities—"

"Wait." Bastian stopped me, resuming his seat. "You're reminding me of another question. You're human, no? And yet, you knew I was a goblin. The same way you know certain things have magic?"

"Not the same, no. Well, not necessarily. Sometimes I get lucky. But no, I know you're a goblin because I can see through your glamor." My hand went to the charm around my neck before I realized what I'd done.

"Ah. They're both artifacts, aren't they? Your necklaces?" Bastian's eyes were fixed at the base of my throat.

I held up the charm. "This one lets me see through glamor. Mostly. It overlays it with an image."

"So, you can see my true form."

"Not all the time," I amended. "Just...like, if I blink or whatever, I see a flash of it."

He hummed, thoughtful.

"We're getting off topic," I added, eager to steer the discussion away from my necklaces. "Professor Miller was head of the university's archeological department. She convinced me to stick around and study there, to get my master's degree. She became...something of a mentor to me." He didn't need to know that my relationship with my mom was strained. That we'd had problems ever since my dad had died—even before. "As time passed, she became something of a good friend, too. I think she loved me like a daughter. We had a shared passion. That brought us together..."

"And then you left the university," he finished when I'd let the silence stretch between us. "Why?"

"Right. Yes. I...something happened. Not between Jane and I," I clarified, so that he understood there were no hard feelings between us. "Someone...it was something else. But, so, I left. I found a different path."

"Just like that? You gave it all up?"

I shrugged. "People change." Lifting my glass, I drained it.

"I find that hard to believe."

There was a long stretch of silence, during which I poured myself another glass. After a small sip, I looked up at him. My chest tightened. "I didn't know that she died until tonight," I managed, barely a whisper. "I saw it on the news, right before I left for the club." My eyes started to burn. I forced the tears back. "I...all I could think was, I'd never reconnected with her. I let things go between us. And then she just—died. I didn't even get to say goodbye."

My chest constricted, tight and aching. Loss was strange. When my father had died, I'd cried for days, weeks, months. He'd been busy with his work, and though he included me when he could, our time was limited. I'd probably spent more time with Jane than I had my father, and yet, all I felt was numb.

Damn this fucking alcohol. It was making me emotional. I grumbled and set my glass down. "If I have any more of that, I'll turn into a mess. You should probably take it away from me."

He ran a hand over the shaved side of his scalp, watching me. "Any idea who could have done this? Did she have enemies? Was there anyone who might have wanted her dead?"

My first instinct was to deny the possibility. Professor Miller was loved by all. She was strict with her students, but fair, and she always encouraged us—them—to excel. Her work was her passion. She'd never been much of a family person. After her husband had died, she threw herself deeper into her work and didn't bother with much else. She'd never had kids, opting to focus entirely on her career instead. I was a part of her work, which was probably why she spared me the time.

A cold knot formed in the pit of my stomach. A nagging feeling that I couldn't quite form into a coherent theory. I'd left the university because of Luke. He'd known about my closeness with Professor Miller. What if he'd found out how she'd hidden me? What if he'd decided to take revenge. What if he'd killed her to get to me—?

"Well?"

"I...I don't know," I sighed. "I haven't spoken to her for years, Bastian. I don't feel qualified to make any assumptions. She could have met any number of people since then."

His jaw flexed. "Fine. Perhaps you should sleep on it."

I opened my mouth, shut it, and frowned. "Sleep...where?" Suspicion leaked into my voice.

"I've got a guest bedroom downstairs here you can use. Come on, I'll get you settled."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that," I managed.

"Well, Sugar, that's too fucking bad."

"Is this because you still don't trust me?" I demanded, rising to my feet.

"Partly. Either you had something to do with Miller's death, or you're going to be a solid asset while I assess the situation. You knew her better than I did—since I didn't know her at all. Either way, I think I'll keep that cotton candy head of yours around a little longer. Hmm? Come on."

I clenched my teeth, crossing my arms. My feet stayed planted where I stood. I glanced at the windows again. It's not like I was getting out.

"I want to go home."

"You can go home tomorrow, maybe. I've got some thinking to do first."

"This is ridiculous," I called after him as he disappeared into the entry, towards the staircase.

"Damnit, Eleanor, get that cute ass in here, or I'll throw you over my shoulder. I'd like to get some sleep and you're keeping me from my bed."

His bed.

What sorts of things might he do in his bed? Shivers raced over my skin, turning to heat that pooled low. My annoyance evaporated, like it had never been. I was in a goblin's house. Bastian's house. Where he slept. Where I was now supposed to sleep. But all I could think about were beds and hot goblins. Fucking hell.

Squaring my shoulders, feigning far more confidence than I felt, I marched from the sitting room.