The guilty way Greg said it had him pausing. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Nothing. Really.”

The man never could lie worth a damn. “Greg. Tell me.”

A knock came on the door. “I have a message from Amara, Parker.”

He pulled his boxers back up and answered the door. “What?”

“She says to meet her in her garden.”

“Thank you, Brian.”

“You’re welcome.”

Parker shut the door and proceeded to get dressed. “Greg?”

Curious. I wonder where he’s gotten off to. He’d probably followed when Brian left. Brian and Greg had more than hit it off, even if the logistics of how a ghost and a human could… Well. Thinking about it hurt his brain.

Parker whistled tunelessly on his way down the stairs. “Has anyone seen my boots?” He cocked his head, the only sounds in the house the rapid beating of a heart, a low moan and slick, wet noises that—

“Oh my bloody Goddess.” Parker found his damn boots and raced out of the house. “I did not hear what I thought I heard. No way. Uh-uh.” He shook his head and tried his best to fill it with visions of Amara as he’d seen her last night, licking the ice-cream cone. That thought led to her licking other flesh-colored objects, like one attached to a very happy vampire.

Oh yeah. That did it. He couldn’t wait to see his girl and kiss her silly before heading to work. He reached the gate that led to Amara’s garden and knocked. “Hello? Any dryads home?” A low laugh filled him with warmth. The gate swung open, and there before him stood the object of his lusty thoughts. “Hello, sweet.”

“Hello, sour.”

Oh no. Had he insulted her somehow? Apologize, quick, before she shuts the door! “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Are you upset with me?”

“Should I be?”

Uh-oh. Not good. Had he done something wrong? “Not that I’m aware of. Did I offend you somehow last night?”

“No, not at all.” She looked stunned.

“And you know I’ve been asleep all day, yes? So I couldn’t have done anything, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you call me sour?”

Her expression cleared. A sunny smile brought out her sweet dimples. He nearly slid in his drool. “Because sweet and sour go together.”

He knew his mouth was open because a gnat flew into it. “Gah.” He coughed, trying to bring the bug back up.

“Oops. It was supposed to make you laugh, not croak.” She pounded on his back with more strength than he’d have given her credit for. Hell, with more strength than he figured a troll would have.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” She backed off, her face a study in contrasting emotions.

“Go ahead, laugh at me. I’m the one choking to death on a gnat.”

She bit back her laugh manfully. “Come in?”

“Thank you.” He closed the gate and leaned against it. “Let’s try that again, shall we? Hello, sweet.”

“Hello, sour.” She giggled.

He rolled his eyes and pulled her shaking form into his arms. “Someone’s begging for a tickling.”

She wiggled for a second, a mulish expression on her face. “I’m not ticklish.”

M’lady doth protest too much. He curled his fingers and twitched them. She squirmed in his grasp, those huge eyes narrowed dangerously. “I swear, you will regret it.”

Someday he’d go ahead with his dastardly plan to make her giggle until she cried uncle, but for now? He had more important things to do. He leaned down, taking a deeper taste of her than he had the night before, sweeping his tongue between her lips for a hello kiss that left them both wanting more. “Mm. So. Will I regret it?”

“Hmm?” That sexy, mysterious smile was back, the one that made him want to kiss her even more.

So he did, turning until her back was to the gate. She slid her arms around his neck, holding him close, tight almost to the point where he was glad he didn’t have to breathe. His cock throbbed behind his jeans; the need to pull her to the ground and have her, take her was almost overwhelming. He wanted to be inside this woman in the worst way. He moaned against her, thrust his hips forward so she’d know exactly what she did to him.

Her answering groan was music to his ears. His fangs descended in preparation to feast on the precious woman he held in his arms. He needed her like no one else.

His fangs nipped her lip, drawing blood. He reeled as her flavor exploded on his tongue, damn near coming in his pants at the rich, earthy flavor of Amara’s blood. He sucked on the tiny wound he’d inflicted, already addicted to her taste.

Much more of this and he’d be missing work for all the right reasons.

“Stop.”

He pulled back instantly, the loss of her touch painful.

She touched her bleeding lip, her eyes dark and wide. “You bit me.”

He shook his head. “No. My fangs. I nicked you by accident, I swear.” If she sends me away, I might as well greet the dawn.

And that thought terrified him even more.

“I believe you.” The relief that rushed through him was short-lived. “But I need you to meet someone.” She took him to a stunning Schwedler Norway maple crowned in brilliant crimson leaves. “Beautiful.”

She smiled again, and it felt like the moon had come out from behind clouds. “Thank you.”

“This is your tree?” He figured introducing a potential mate to your tree was a big deal for a dryad.

Parker froze. Mate?

He glanced down at the smiling woman beside him and licked his lips. Her taste lingered on his tongue, and he shuddered.

Oh fuck yes. She’s my singele sotiei. Bloody hell. Terri is going to kill her.

“Touch the tree, Parker. She wants to say hello.” A dryad and her tree couldn’t be separated. If Amara accepted him but her tree didn’t, Parker would greet the dawn. He’d have no other choice.

There was no real choice. Parker would do anything his sotiei asked of him. He touched Amara’s tree and found himself sucked into an intellect so alien yet so familiar he felt overwhelmed. That intelligence delved into him, sought out his darkest places, basked in the sunshine he’d managed to hold on to despite his curse and the physical loss of Greg, rooted out his pettiest feelings and his deepest desires. It latched on to his feelings for Amara and turned them inside out, examined them, pulled them apart and put them back together like a child’s toy.

By the time it was done, Parker was ready to drop from exhaustion. The tree withdrew from his thoughts with a final farewell caress that meant he’d been accepted at the deepest levels.

“She likes you. She really likes you.” The pleasure and satisfaction in Amara’s voice mirrored his.

Wonderful. Now if only I can get my legs to work…

“Oh dear.” Amara gasped as Parker hit the ground with a resounding thump. “Oh boy.” She glared at her tree and tapped her foot. “What did you do to him?” Leaves rustled, the maple’s equivalent of soundless laughter. “Uh-huh. Well, at least I’m sure now Parker had nothing to do with what happened in my garden.” A leaf fell, one crimson tear shed for the loss of Amara’s last link to the woman she’d thought about calling mother. “Thank you.”

Maybe she could ask Parker to help her figure out who had done it and why. The townspeople were prime suspects, but they’d never before damaged the garden. Indeed, some of the people who actively disliked her loved that garden and would be as devastated as she was at its loss.

One way or another Amara would get to the bottom of the destruction. The destroyer would hurt when she was done with them. Then she could begin rebuilding the dream she and Glinda had shared. She’d made a start already by clearing away some of the death and destruction. She’d prepare the ground, fertilize it well, and when the growing time came, she’d be there as always. It would take years for the mature trees to grow back, for the plants to spread and thrive.