“No, no. He’ll feel more comfortable if he thinks I’m asking him purely out of concern. Let me do this alone.”
Rhiannon nods. Then she smiles at me and leans in, pressing her mouth softly against mine without warning. I meet her halfway, forgetting my troubles for a brief moment.
“What was that for?” I ask when our lips part.
“For gracing us with your gift.” She leans back, her gaze steady on mine. “You might just save us all, you know.”
I’m at a loss for words, but she doesn’t wait for me to answer. She just moves in closer, rolling over onto me with the easy confidence of someone who knows exactly what she wants and has decided to take it. Her mouth finds mine again, and the conversation ends.
The fading moonlight sparkles on the surface of the water beside us, throwing pale ribbons across her skin as she pulls me to her, and I stop thinking entirely.
We lose ourselves in each other all over again.
Afterward, she lies against my chest and what remains of the night settles around us. Her breathing slows. Her body is warm against my side — unreasonably, impossibly warm, and her fingers rest loosely over my ribs like she forgot to let go.
Then she looks up at me and smiles. A small, meaningful, pure smile.
I am so fucked.The thought arrives in my head with the calm clarity of a man stating an obvious, undisputable fact. Like noting that the sky above us is dark or the pond is wet.
And I don’t mean it in the physical sense. It’s the kind of fucked that rewrites your whole life.
Morning comes too quickly. My body aches from our night in the woods, but it’s the good kind, the kind that reminds me I’m alive.
The hot spray of the shower beats down on me back in my quarters, and I let it wash over me as my mind stays fixed on Rhiannon. The way her amber eyes practically glowed in the moonlight. How her laugh vibrated through my chest as I held her. The feeling of her soft skin against mine.
We snuck back into the fortress separately — her idea, not mine. I only managed a few hours of sleep, but even then, Rhiannon was there in my dreams, too. I could still smell her sweet honeysuckle scent.
All of a sudden, I can picture a life here: Watching Thea’s kids take their first steps, Rhiannon’s hand resting on her own rounded belly, carrying my child. Helping Conan, nervous as hell, plan his engagement proposal to Akila.
The whole thing unfolds before me like a video montage produced by my mind.
This is insane.
It’s a nice fantasy. Rhiannon is everything that I’ve ever dreamed of in a partner and more. Certainly, there’s a part of me that’s a little afraid she might accidentally murder me. I have no illusions about that. Especially now that I’m thinking about this whole business with Jayme possibly blacking out and killing someone. Lycans are still wolves...at least part of the time.
My mind keeps circling back to Haron’s story, and what disturbs me is how logical it sounds. The Shaman children stood tall but were rail thin, like walking fluorescent bulbs with fragile skin. I’m surprised Jayme didn’t shatter the girl completely ina spray of glass and mercury vapor. He’s not massive, like Branson, but he’s got more than enough size and strength to do serious damage. It’s not far-fetched to believe he could kill someone like her.
I’ve watched how the others react to Jayme: the subtle shifts in their behavior they probably don’t even notice themselves. When he approaches, Lycans drift away or give him a wide berth. When he speaks, some flinch.
Still, it doesn’t add up. He keeps reaching out anyway, keeps trying to connect. Especially with Rhiannon. The way he looks at her when she’s not watching, it’s as if her approval is the one thing that might finally prove he belongs. It’s not hard to see how much their acceptance means to him.
I can’t help but think of him like I would a spider. Everyone acts frightened of him when he’s the one who’s terrified. That thought sobers me. I need to talk to Branson later, like Rhiannon and I discussed. If anyone has insight into what happened with Jayme, it would be his brother.
But I barely have time to change before Rhiannon appears at the door of my room, this time with Conan in tow.
“Let’s go,” she says, all business now. There’s no trace of last night’s tenderness in her voice. Only the slight softening around her eyes gives her away.
“Where are we going?” I ask, falling into step beside them.
Conan grins, his blond hair bright in the morning light. “Perimeter patrol. Commander thinks you should see more of our territory.”
“Is that right?” I glance at Rhiannon, who keeps her eyes forward.
“You should understand our defenses,” she says stiffly. “Especially with tensions being high during the summit.”
I bite back a smile. She wants me close, but can’t say it in front of Conan. I get it.
We pass through the main gate, nodding to the guards who straighten as Rhiannon approaches. The fortress walls — impressive slabs of stone that must be ancient — stretch high above us. Beyond them, a dense forest spreads in all directions.
