Page 33 of The Temptation of Roan Island

His features shift, easing into something softer. “No, Pippa. I haven’t heard anything more since learning he wasn’t at the New Essik Family Group.” He reaches for a white shirt and slides it on. “Mrs. Darning still hasn’t returned, and I haven’t heard from her.”

“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, confusion dampening my resolve. “That’s where he was sent. That’s where they told me he was.”

Shemaiah slides his trousers over his cotton drawers. It feels so domestic, so familiar, yet foreign for us to be standing here talking while he dresses.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Pippa. But I’m sure Mrs. Darning will find him.” He pulls on a shirt, then rubs his palm over his chin, wiping away the remnants of shaving soap. “She should be back any day.”

His provision for Tobias is like a balm, but one that stings. How long will he continue the search? And what about after I’m gone?

Facing me, he brushes the tips of his fingers along my arm. “We’ll find him.”

I nod, sucking in a deep breath, hoping he’s right, and suddenly aware of how close we’re standing.

He’s covered now, though completely undone, his breeches still unfastened though I can’t see anything under his untucked shirt. His feet—such lovely feet—are bare. His toes nearly touch the hem of my dress. I look up to find him staring back at me, chin tilted down, breath fanning across my face, eyes dark like they were the night he came into my room.

I step back, shaking my head to reorient my thoughts to what’s important, then spin away from him and bite my thumbnail. “Why were you avoiding me?”

Unexpected tears fill my eyes and tighten my throat. Tears for my boy. Tears for me. Tears I’ve been holding back over the long lonely days of Shemaiah’s abandonment. He was my only real friend in this place. But he deserted me for some reason he hasn’t explained. “I was starting to th-think something had h-happened to–”

Shemaiah is there between one sob and the next, wrapping his arms around me and holding me against his chest. “No, no, it wasn’t—fuck, I didn’t want to worry you. I just⁠—”

“I t-though we were f-friends.” I wrap my arms around him and grip the back of his shirt, the soft fabric crushed in my fists.

“We are. I’m sorry.” He swallows, throat bobbing against the top of my head where he has me tucked into him.

He smells so good. Clean and earthy, like rain drenching hot earth on a summer day mixed with his shaving tonic. When I realize I’m smelling him—and I certainly shouldn’t be—I lean away, swiping the tears off my cheeks. “I’m sorry. This is ridiculous.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Pippa.” He takes my face between his hands and leans down to look me in the eye. “I’m the one who was acting like an immature ass and avoiding you.”

“That’s true.” I smile through a sniffle, my eyes drifting between his. My anger and fears dissipate, replaced with something else. “I’m usually not this emotional. But…”

“I understand.” He brushes his thumb across my damp cheek, dark eyes following the movement. “I didn’t think about what assumptions you’d make. I just… after my behavior at the last new moon, I didn’t think…” His gaze dips to my mouth and lingers.

I break away, taking another step back, even though my heart picks up speed at his proximity. “Yes, well, that was understandable. Considering the circumstances.”

“Right. The new moon makes beasts of us all.” His laugh is hollow and bitter.

“I don’t care about what happened, Shemaiah. You weren’t yourself.”

“That’s the thing, Pippa. I was. That is who I am.”

I swallow, turning away from him to clear my face of the last of my tears, ignoring the spark of hurt that remains. “If you didn’t want to spend time with me, you should have told me outright. I can take honesty, but not silence.”

Spinning around, I march out of his room without looking back.

15

SHEMAIAH

“Fuck!” I’m a selfish bastard. It didn’t even cross my mind that not speaking to her would increase her worry about Tobias. Or hurt her. But it’s clear she was hurt by my avoidance. I was so caught up in protecting her—bullshit—I was so caught up in protecting myself, that I didn’t think about how she would feel.

I’m obviously a sick bastard too, because as she stood there staring at me, the only thing I could think about was seeing if she tasted like fresh lemons. She smelled richer, as if the citrus had been boiled down into something more concentrated by her emotions. And she was beautiful, standing there with her porcelain cheeks dusted with freckles and a bright blush. Her raspberry lips were full and pursed with annoyance, her blonde hair pulled up in a bun, leaving her neck bare, the pulse point thudding with her racing heart.

My mouth waters. My fangs descend.

This is why I stayed away.

“Fuck!” I swipe the pitcher off the vanity. The glass crashes against the wall, splintering and breaking apart. Water oozes across the floor. Ashamed of my loss of composure, I immediately drop a towel to sop it up. Pippa’s right. We are friends—we were friends. The only friendship I’d ever had.