We sit in silence, contemplating that. Sting appears, slowly, no weird extra legs or tails visible, and sets down a fresh pitcher of cold water and a plate of cucumbers and fruit. “Thank you,” we say in unison. When I look at him, I’m taken aback by his gaze. His eyes are the color of honey—bright and intense. And they are looking at me. Notus.Just me. That same spine tingle is back. More intense.
“I can arrange a car for you. Or you can sleep here and I will drive you to the city tomorrow.” His voice is deep and soothing, makes me feel warm and safe. As soon as he says the word ‘sleep,’ I feel my body relax. Yes, that is what I want.
“We’d like to go to the hotel now,” Lily says, standing, uneasy on her feet, and my heart plummets into my belly. I shake my head and stand next to her.
“No. We need to rest. We stay here.” My heart thumps in my chest something awful. Why? I’m not afraid of my sister. I’m not afraid of Sting. But somehow, this show of demand feels dangerous to me.
Lily looks at me the way she used to when we were kids. Like I’m from another planet. “No. We go back. Patrick will fly in tomorrow and fix everything.”
Now I’m angry. “What? Your murder vibes fiancé is going tofixeverything? What does that even mean? Why would you trust him?”
“What do you meanmurder vibes?” I want to smack the raised eyebrow right off Lily’s face. The arrogance.
“Listen, I am here because of you.For you. I hate everything about this girls’ weekend trip, except the fact that we are together. I have put up with all your ridiculous plans and antics—loud shows, gambling, drinking all hours, and now almost being killed in the desert. Because ofyourfiancé! Now I am putting my foot down. I don’t want to ride in a strange car at night and hope I end up back at the hotel. And I am also not trusting Patrick tofix everything.No.”
I cross my arms and heave a breath. I stare into her eyes, so much like our dad’s. She blinks, and then I don’t recognize her anymore. “You’d rather put your trust in thismonster,than ataxi driver?” She whispers the word ‘monster,’ but I know Sting hears it. And while I would normally expect a male to take offense, object, defend himself, Sting doesn’t. He is still as a statue.
My face heats, not in embarrassment of myself, but of my sister; my first best friend. The person I’ve spent most of my life with, trying to make happy. Shaking my head in disappointment in her, I turn to Sting, careful to look directly into his eyes.
“Yes,” I say, unable to decipher the look in his eyes. “May I use your restroom?”
He nods and points down the hallway. “There’s a towel, aloe, and clean clothes for you if you want to shower.” That generosity, in the midst of my spat with my sister, touches me. Again, I feel my shoulders relax of their own volition. Twice now, he has caused that—peace inside me.
“Thank you.” And with that, I leave them both to take refuge in the bathroom and cry in the shower.
Chapter 5
Hyacinth
The moon wakes me, shining bright on my face. Reminding me that I’m alive. And safe. Peeking outside the window beside my bed, the desert yard is lit up in a bluish light, almost bright enough to be day. My burn hurts too much when I shift and roll over in bed, so I get up to slather on more aloe. Beside me, Lily is sprawled out, snoring softly. She won’t miss me.
After applying aloe and getting some water, my feet are weirdly antsy. The tingling in my spine is intense, and I know it means Sting is nearby. And while I sound like an idiot, I let my feet guide me to my flipflops and outside.
It’s surprisingly cool outside; I expected the same wall of heat that consumed us during the day. In the distance, crickets chirp and sing their song to the moon. A coyote howls, sending a different kind of chill down my arms. Reminding me of my fear of what would happen if Lily and I were still out in the desert, trying to find our way to civilization.
I can see a faint light shining out from under the door at the garage or shed…outbuilding, let’s say. My feet guide the way, letting me argue within myself. This poor guy, he doesn’t wantme invading his space any more than I already have. I know this; I would think it was creepy if the person I rescued came to visit me in the literal middle of the night.
My hand isn’t even on the door, when I hear his deep, resonant voice telling me, “Come on in.” I ignore the flutter that travels from my spine to my belly as I step inside. It is a potting shed of sorts, though it’s hard to imagine anyone gardening in this habitat. Harsh soil, harsher sun. Sting is in the corner, kneeling beside a pen, the light shining. A quiet mewing sound.
“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks. I nod, but he isn’t looking at me. His attention is on whatever is in that pen. His tail curled behind him appears as sentry—protecting him. It’s regal, he’s regal.
“The moon is so bright,” I start, hoping it doesn’t sound like a complaint.
“Mmm. Yes. It will be full tomorrow night.” A slight smile plays on his lips. Cautiously, I step forward, curiosity winning out once again.
“Do you want to feed one?” He asks, standing to shift and make room for me. I forgot how tall he is, and the mass of his body catches me off guard. Gasping, I step back, tripping over my own feet.
In a flash, his hand is on my arm, pulling me toward him. His tail wraps around me, the stinger of his tail appearing on my other side. Another gasp before I’m able to control myself.
Sting chuckles. It’s low and rumbling, almost not there, except for the amused expression on his face, the crow’s feet at the corner of each honeyed eye. Heat travels from his hand to my arm and up to my chest. If I weren’t looking at his thick, scarred fingers gripping me, I’d wonder if I was having a stroke. It takes a lot of effort to move my eyes away from his hand.
“I’ve got you,” he says, barely a whisper. It takes me a couple of minutes to calm my heart and brain down enough to think. To speak.
“Yeah, you do. I’m really lucky—twice! I guess I was wrong. I should go to the blackjack tables.” He huffs, just enough to feel like half a laugh, then straightens me up and releases me. My arm feels like it’s missing something now. His tail though…his tail is still wrapped around me.
Breathing deep, his scent is leather, oak, spice. Then there’s the wood of the shed we’re in. And the straw by his feet. That reminds me, why is he out here? Licking my lips, trying to jump start my brain yet again, I step back. His tail snakes around me, leaving me. The feel of it is hard, armored, but also silky smooth.
“You—your—why—” the words just won’t form coherent thoughts. I’m imagining the tip of his tail sliding along my skin. His lips on mine. Those scarred hands touching more of my heated skin.
