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I blinked. Yes, but reeds won't hold up a house.
They make a good raft, so don't write them off so fast.
Shaking away the thought of Rhiannon being a life raft, I headed downstairs to find her finishing up on the kitchen. It looked spotless.
I yawned as I slid into one of the kitchen chairs.
"So what next? We . . ." I stopped, realizing that we had no idea of what to do after we warded the house. At least as far as finding Heather. "What the hell are we going to do next?"
"Yeah, I know," Rhiannon said, softly. "I've been thinking the same thing. My mother's gone, and I may never see her again. I love Heather. I know we had our differences, but she stood up for me and I love her. I'm not sure what I'm going to do if she's gone for good."
"Don't say that! We'll find her, we'll bring her back." Even as I said the words, I didn't know if I believed them.
"I can't think about this right now. Everything's too much to take in. So tell me what happened with Grieve."
I shook my head. "What can I say? He's dangerous and I love him. The two are mutually exclusive, aren't they? I guess I never stopped loving him. No man in the past nine years has ever meant anything to me beyond being a one-night stand. Or a friend. Now I know why."
Rhiannon wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tight. "I know it hurts to hear, but Cicely, if he warned you away, there must be a reason." One look at my face and she slipped into the chair next to me. "You've got it bad."
"I wasn't ready to stay when I was here before. I wasn't ready to commit myself to him, and Krystal needed me. But now I am. And now it's too late. He belongs to the enemy."
She rubbed my shoulders. "Let it be. What will happen, will happen. And maybe . . . maybe he's still who he was. Maybe he can shake the turning somehow--it's not like he's dead, if what the book says is correct."
There was a sound, like knocking. I glanced at my cousin, who shook her head. "Don't," she said.
I'm here, Ulean whispered.
Slowly, I made my way to the front door and opened it. There was no one there. I stepped out onto the porch, looking right and left, and almost immediately felt someone's gaze focused on me from the ravine. A look over at the trailhead showed that a wolf stood half-on, half-off the path.
Grieve.
He padded toward me through the snow, and the next thing I knew, I was on the lawn, then halfway across toward the thicket with the wolf approaching me, eyes brilliant emerald, fur a silvery gray.
I reached out and he touched his nose to my hand. A spark ricocheted up and down my spine, then spread through my stomach where my wolf's head tattoo was located. A resonance tingled across my lower abs, singing through the ink. I gasped as the wolf jumped up, its forepaws on my shoulders, and gazed into my eyes. In another flash, the animal was gone as Grieve pulled me into his arms and pressed his lips against mine.
"Let go of me." Grieve held me so tight I could barely breathe. I elbowed him, trying to break away.
"Stop squirming," he whispered. "It drives me crazy when you struggle, and I could hurt you." And there it was, in his voice. The hypnotic pull. And a deadly threat hiding behind the desire.
"Grieve, please stop." I'd been in enough situations with crack-crazed junkies looking for drug money or a quick fuck that I'd learned how to relax and avoid setting off panic buttons. Grieve might not be a druggie, but I recognized the razor's edge in his voice. He was walking a thin line and I didn't want to push him over the brink.
I forced myself to hold still. Struggle, and I was prey. Submit, and he might come to his senses. Closing my eyes, I willed the wind to give me strength, to shore me up and calm my fears. As a cool breeze raced over me, my pulse slowed and my heart stopped racing.
Grieve loosened his embrace, but my wolf tattoo kept up a warm keening throughout my body.
I stumbled away, keeping my eyes on him. Never turn your back on a predator. Too dangerous. A deviant little smile crinkled the corner of his lips and he darted his tongue out as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking them.
"I can taste your sweat," he said, never taking his gaze off of me. "I can smell you. You still want me. Don't even try to lie about it."
I stared at him. He knew . . . Part of me didn't want him knowing how I felt because that knowledge would give him an advantage, and part of me wanted to rush right back into his embrace.
"Back off. Don't do anything you'd regret later."
He let out a sharp bark. "Regret? I have no regrets. Not anymore," he added softly, but something in his voice told me he was lying. At least to himself.
"I almost forgot you could change into a wolf." Which I hadn't, but it was something to say, something to ease us back to safety.
"I am born of the Cambyra Fae, the Shifting Ones. There's a great deal you seem to have forgotten about me, Cicely Waters. About us." He glanced at the house. Rhiannon and Leo were watching from the porch and I prayed they wouldn't make any sudden movements. "I'm sorry about your aunt. But she should have been more careful." He circled me slowly.
