"Like what? Me and her? Or the fact that she has feelings for you too?"
My head snapped up at that. "What?"
Zane sighed, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "Come on, Rook. You can't be that oblivious. The way she looks at you when you're not watching. The way her heart ratespikes when you get close." He shook his head. "You must have noticed."
I had noticed. Had caught the subtle changes in her scent when we were alone, the way her pupils dilated when I stood too close. But I'd convinced myself it was just physical attraction, nothing more. That our kiss had been a one time thing.”
"It's complicated," I finally spoke, the understatement of the century.
"No shit," Zane snorted. "Four supernatural protectors, one prophetic vessel, and enough sexual tension between all of us to power a small city. 'Complicated' doesn't begin to cover it."
Despite everything, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. "When you put it that way..."
A crash from inside the apartment interrupted whatever tentative truce we were forming. We both reacted instantly, rushing through the door to find Winter standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the remains of what had once been a coffee table. Horrace was wrapped around her shoulders, all twelve of his eyes wide with alarm.
"I'm fine," she held up a hand before either of us could speak. "Just lost my temper a little."
The blue markings on her arm were glowing brightly, pulsing with barely contained energy. Milo stood a few feet away, looking both concerned and impressed.
"She was telling Horrace what happened and when she got to the part about the cultists, well..." He gestured to the shattered table.
"Sorry," Winter looked embarrassed. "I'll replace it."
"Don't worry about it," I found myself saying, my anger forgotten in the face of her distress. "Bureau furniture. They've got spares."
She smiled slightly at that, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. Horrace made a musical sound, his tentacles patting her cheek in what seemed like comfort.
"I should check your bandages," Milo looked at Zane, professional concern overriding any awkwardness. "Magical wounds can reopen if not treated properly."
Zane nodded, following Milo toward the kitchen where the medical supplies were kept. Their quiet conversation faded as they moved away, leaving Winter and me alone in the living room.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. I watched as she absentmindedly stroked one of Horrace's tentacles, her gaze fixed on the broken table.
"Are you okay?" My voice softer than I'd intended. "Really?"
She looked up, her gray eyes meeting mine. "I killed two people today, Rook. Cultists, but still people. Turned them to ash with a thought." She swallowed hard. "So no, I'm not really okay." It was catching up to me.
The vulnerability in her voice cut through my remaining anger like a knife. Without thinking, I moved closer, stopping just short of touching her.
"It was self-defense. They would have killed you and Zane without hesitation." I touched her hand briefly.
"I know," she nodded. "But it doesn't make it easier." She looked down at her hands, at the blue markings that pulsed gently against her skin. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm becoming the weapon they all think I am."
"You're not," I reached out again, unable to stop myself, and lifted her chin gently, forcing her to meet my gaze. "A weapon doesn't care who it hurts. You do."
Her eyes searched mine, looking for reassurance or understanding or something I wasn't sure I could give. Horracewatched us both, his twelve eyes blinking in sequence as he observed our interaction.
"I'm sorry," I spoke after a moment, dropping my hand. "About what happened in the hallway. With Zane."
She sighed, some of the tension leaving her body. "I get it, you know. The territorial thing. It's part of who you are." She gave me a small, sad smile. "But I need you to understand something, Rook. I care about you. A lot. That kiss we shared meant something to me."
My heart stuttered at her words, hope flaring briefly before she continued.
"But I also care about Zane. And Milo. And yes, even Fenric, when he's not being a total bureaucrat." She ran a hand through her hair, frustration evident in the gesture. "I don't know what that means or where any of this is going. But I do know that I can't handle you guys fighting over me like I'm some sort of prize to be won."
I nodded slowly, understanding even if my wolf didn't like it. "I'll try," I promised. "No guarantees, but I'll try."
"That's all I'm asking," she reached out and squeezed my hand. The contact sent a jolt through me, a reminder of what we'd shared and what might still be possible.
