But under the instincts, quieter but persistent, was something else. The memory of his face when he'd talked about his mother. And the way he'd apologized immediately, without making excuses.
"Fine," she heard herself say. "But you're walking three feet away from me."
Something flickered across his face—amusement, maybe, or something softer.
"Whatever you need, little flower," he said. "Shall we go?"
CHAPTER 4
She tastes like wine and honey.
The memory of their kiss kept replaying through Thallos's head as he escorted Marigold back into town, the ghost of her lips burning against his. It had been barely a kiss. A brush. A suggestion. And yet his heart was pounding like he'd just sprinted the length of his vineyard, and there was heat spreading through his chestthat had nothing to do with the wine he'd been sampling.
*Idiot,*he thought savagely.*You absolute idiot.*
The walk to town was an exercise in exquisite torture.
True to her word, she kept three feet between them at all times. She walked with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes fixed on the road ahead, and every time he accidentally closed the distance, she sped up. His hooves drummed against the asphalt in a steady rhythm, counterpoint to the softer sound of her footsteps.
"Can I ask you something?" he ventured.
"You can ask."
*That's not a yes,*he noted. But it wasn't quite a no, either.
"Why did you agree to be co-chair? I've seen the way you react when people talk to you at council meetings. You hate being noticed. You hate being the center of attention. So why take on a role that puts you directly in the spotlight?"
She didn't answer for so long that he thought she wouldn't.
"Ellie cornered me," she said finally. "I couldn't figure out how to say no without making a scene."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Fair enough. The last thing he wanted to do was to push her.
"You're not what I expected," she said suddenly, and he gave her a surprised look.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Someone more…" She trailed off, searching for the word. "Aggressive, maybe. Someone who would have pushed back when I said no."
The twist in his gut returned, sharper this time. "Is that what you're used to?"
"I'm not used to anything." Her voice had gone flat. "I'm just saying you're not what I expected."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"I haven't decided yet."
He smiled despite himself. "I'll take it."
The rest of the trip was conducted in silence. Even Main Street seemed unusually deserted, with most of the stores already closed. When they reached her shop, he followed her down the alley to the side door. A trellis climbed the side of the building, an elaborate wooden framework covered in climbing roses and jasmine. The flowers were closed for the evening, their blooms furled tight, but even so, he could feel the life thrumming through them. The vines were healthy, well-tended, practically vibrating with potential.
"This is me," she said, turning to face him. The distance she'd maintained had closed slightly, maybe two feet now instead of three, but she still held herself like a woman ready to bolt. "Thank you for walking me back."
"Thank you for letting me."
