Burton followed Tansy through the darkness. He felt like a spy in a movie, and also like a farmer.

Tansy had given him a black t-shirt and a pair of loose black sweat pants that had once belonged to Grandpa Max. The clothes still carried the faint scents of aftershave and fresh hay in equal parts. Burton felt that he knew Grandpa Max a little, now that he was wearing his pants.

They waited until the sun set, then managed to sneak off the farm and across the road without arousing suspicion from anyone but Cleo.

The fluffy cat followed them at a distance, darting around trees and stalking the hedge lines. Tansy said she was curious, but Burton sensed a certain air of authority about the little creature. Unlike Burton and Tansy, Cleo was not wearing any disguise. Her dark striped fur was already an excellent camouflage.

The Petersons’ farmhouse wasn’t at all like the one at Martin’s Bounty. Tansy and Sage’s house was covered in old-fashioned lumpy stucco with a roof that overhung the walls by a foot, curlicue woodwork and green shutters with metal holders. The Martins swept their porch every morning and bright flowers on a delicate green vine grew up its columns.

The Petersons’ house, on the other hand, was a squat rectangle that looked like it had been made of children’s blocks left out in the sun to fade. Trash cans lined the front of the house, some upright, some rolling in the muddy front lawn which led back past a paint-flecked barn and into the corn fields.

The pulsing blue light of a television illuminated one of the windows.

Tansy motioned for him to follow her toward the barn in back.

“I thought they weren’t at home,” Burton whispered when he caught up to her.

“They probably just left the TV on,” Tansy said. “They never miss ’80s Karaoke Night at Klingon’s in town. Worst case, they left Granny Peterson home. She can’t hear much anyway.”

Burton didn’t know what a lot of those words meant, but he trusted Tansy when she said everything was okay.

He was prepared to protect her with his life, although he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Clouds had been forming all afternoon and the night was oppressively humid. Something in the air made the hairs on his arms lift up a little.

Tansy fiddled with the metal bar across the barn doors.

Suddenly the sky lit up like Aerie.

A moment later there was a terrible crash of thunder.

Tansy took advantage of the sound to give the bar a good shove. It popped out of place with a slight bang that was covered by the thunder.

She slid it aside and pushed open the barn door slowly.

Cleo darted between their legs into the vast darkness.

Though Dr. Bhimani had cautioned the men not to use their gifts in front of anyone, Burton closed his eyes and allowed himself just a glimpse.

It took a moment to adjust to Cleo’s difference in height.

Through the cat’s clever eyes, the barn’s interior held the same faded colors in darkness that it would have during the day.

Burton could make out a large vehicle. Behind it, on the floor of the barn, was something about the right size, covered in a tarp.

Before Burton could get excited about it, the whole scene panned.

Cleo was making a quick retreat out of the barn. The little animal didn’t like the feeling of being in a confined space that wasn’t her home.

Burton blinked and brought himself back into his own head.

“Are you okay?” Tansy asked.

“Yes, just trying to get used to the dark,” he whispered back.

He longed to share his gift with his beautiful mate, but Dr. Bhimani had been very clear on that point. He couldn’t risk revealing his hidden talents and making himself appear anything but human. She’d explained to him and his brothers that the women of Earth might be frightened or repulsed by such a display. And the last thing he wanted to do was risk his blossoming relationship with Tansy.

“Here,” she said, lifting her phone. It gave off a soft glow, just enough to see a few paces ahead.

He led the way in the direction of the thing under the tarp.

Tansy followed at his elbow, phone extended before her.

“Oh,” she whispered as soon as they were close enough for her to see the tarp-covered crate.

“Is that it?” Burton asked.

“Looks like it,” Tansy whispered, handing him the phone.

He held it out for her.

Tansy lifted the canvas slowly, then sighed.

Burton leaned in to see that the canvas covered an old wooden dresser.

“This is from our farm. We put it out for big trash when we were cleaning out the old guest room,” Tansy whispered. “Gretchen’s mom must have sent her over to pick it up.”

“That’s why Gretchen’s tire tracks were on your property,” Burton mused.

“This was a mistake,” Tansy said. “We need to leave right away.”

She straightened up and was flicking the tarp back over the dresser when Burton heard a noise outside.

He moved to the doorway as silently as he could.

Someone was coming - he could hear faint voices outside.

He moved back to alert Tansy and nearly crashed into her.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered back.

They moved quickly through the darkened space. Their eyes had become accustomed to the moonlight pouring in the open barn door, and Tansy didn’t need the light of her phone this time.

“—can’t believe they closed for cleaning on Karaoke Night,” a female voice said from outside. “Hey! The barn doors are open.”

Burton and Tansy reached the threshold.

“Move,” Tansy whispered, giving him a nudge.

He slipped out into the rain and Tansy followed. They made it just off the driveway when they heard the second voice.

“Who’s there?” a rusty male voice shouted. “You’re trespassing on my property.”

There was a clicking sound that Burton recognized from the western style movies when a cowboy prepared his gun to shoot.

“Don’t worry, Clem,” the first voice said. “Otis has ‘em cornered.”

There was a third person out there somewhere.

Tansy slipped her hand into Burton’s and he held it tightly.

He looked around, but the driving rain made it too hard to see much of anything.

Cleo.

He thought of the cat and closed his eyes.

Instantly he was watching the whole scene from underneath a car on the driveway.

A tall thin man held out a weapon.

A woman stood beside him, hands on her hips.

And in the foliage just off the driveway, a very large man was moving toward Burton and Tansy, cutting them off from the road.

Burton blinked back to himself and tightened his grip on Tansy’s hand.

“Follow my lead,” he whispered.

He pulled her toward the cornfield.

When she realized where he was headed, she resisted, tugging back toward the street.

“Trust me,” he breathed.

She relented and they flew between the rows of stalks.

“They’re in the cornfield,” the woman’s voice shouted.

She must have seen the stalks moving.

Burton wondered if they could move any faster. Tansy was strong but her legs were not as long as his. Still, he thought they must have been putting some distance between them and their pursuers.

Just then, Tansy slipped on the sodden ground.

He held fast to her hand, pulling her up.

A strangled moan escaped her buttoned lips.

“Tansy,” he whispered.

“I twisted my ankle,” she whispered.

“May I carry you?” he asked.

She looked torn for a moment, then nodded.

He swept her into his arms. Despite knowing they were running for their lives, the sweet scent of her hair and the satisfying weight of her left him feeling intoxicated. She was not soft and willowy like the other women he knew. Tansy was strong and solid. She felt good.

Once he could go at his own pace, Burton was quickly outstripping their pursuers. But he knew he could not outrun the ammunition in the other man’s weapon.

His mate was in danger.

His heart pounded like the frost drive in the 8-7 engine back on Aerie.

He wound his way out of the cornfield, relying on his internal compass to put him back on the roadway between the two farms.

When he burst out of the wall of produce and saw Martin’s Bounty before him he sighed with relief.

Holding Tansy close, he crossed the street and jogged up the hillside.

When the foliage beside the sign hid them, he dared to turn around.

The rain had slowed enough to let him make out the rustling among the cornstalks across the street.

“They all went into the field,” Tansy said, looking up from his shoulder. “If one of them had stayed out, they would have found us easily.”

“This was not strategic planning,” Burton pointed out.

“Gretchen and Clem Peterson aren’t exactly known for strategy,” Tansy said. “Their parents are okay, but Grandma Helen used to say Gretchen and Clem were not the sharpest knives in the drawer.”

“Which one was Clem?” Burton asked.

“The one with the gun,” Tansy said, confirming his suspicion that the thin man had been holding a weapon. “And the really big guy is Otis Rogers. He’s been in love with Gretchen since middle school. It’s unrequited.”

“That’s very sad,” Burton said softly, thinking of his own love for Tansy.

“I guess,” Tansy shrugged. “Can you put me down?”

Burton did not want to put her down. But he lowered her to the ground as gently as he could anyway.

She winced as soon as her left foot touched the grass.

“You are hurt,” he said. He swore her pain hurt him too.

“I guess so,” she agreed.

“May I carry you in?” he asked.

She nodded more quickly this time.

He lifted her into his arms again, every cell of his body celebrating her return. Their wet clothes warmed pleasantly between their bodies as he walked.

He made his way back to the farmhouse slowly, so as not to jostle her injured ankle.

The rain had been reduced to a drizzle, but it still felt good to step onto the porch. The Martins’ house was more than a shelter - it felt like home to him, though he had never spent a night under its roof.

He opened the door as quietly as he could and closed it behind them. There was the hum of the fans in the windows but otherwise the house was still.

As quietly as he could, he carried Tansy through the living room and down the hall to her bedroom. He knew it was Tansy’s room because of a carved wood sign bearing her name that hung over it.

He opened the door and was momentarily surprised.

“It’s different from the rest of the house, isn’t it?” Tansy whispered.

He nodded, taking it in.

The ceiling was vaulted, with wooden beams across it. The wood floor was painted gray like the front porch floor. Large windows flanked the bed.

“The original house was built in the 1800s,” Tansy explained. “But Grandpa Max built this addition in the nineties. He wanted a good place for Sage and me to stay when we visited, and a first-floor bedroom for him and Grandma Helen if they ever needed it.”

“It suits the house,” Burton said.

“Yes, he wanted it to still feel like a farmhouse, but brighter and more cheerful,” Tansy said with a fond smile.

“It suits you,” Burton said.

Tansy looked down. He could tell by the apples of her cheeks that she was pleased.

“I’m going to put you down on your bed, okay?” he asked. “Then I’ll get supplies to treat your ankle.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Tansy said quickly.

He placed her gently on the edge of the bed.

She smiled up at him.

“I will get you some ice,” he told her. “What else will you need?”

“Ice would be great,” she agreed. “Nothing else.”

Everything about the moment was perfect, down to the soft sound of the rain outside, and the gentle smile on his mate’s face.

Burton tore himself from her and headed back to the kitchen, hoping the mood would remain long enough for him to tend to her hurt ankle before asking her a very important question.