Page 105 of Blood & Claw

His heart lurched.

She waited.

Wiping rain from her eyes, Ailsa watched Darach approach. She marked his pronounced limp, his rumpled clothing, and the hollow-eyed exhaustion on his face.

It all made sense this morning, although she couldn’t look at him in the same way.

Not when she knew that beast lived beneath his skin.

“I thought you’d be gone,” he greeted her hoarsely, stopping before the hissing embers.

Ailsa pulled a face. She’d considered it—a few times during the night as she’d waited alone by the fire and listened to blood-curdling yowls splitting the night—but something had made her stay. “I paid you too much for that … and besides, I can’t rescue Kayla alone.” She hesitated. Her words had come out harsher than she intended. Her cheeks warmed then. “And … I don’t leave people behind.”

Their gazes met and held for a long moment.

The intimacy of it made Ailsa’s pulse quicken.

Out here in the wilds, this man was all she had, yet there was more to it than that. She couldn’t just walk away from someone in trouble. She hadn’t turned her back on Fern, and she wouldn’t abandon him either.

People were cruel to those they didn’t understand, but she wasn’t like them.

The urge to spill her own secrets reared up then.

She wanted to tell him about how the smell of blood made her mouth water. How the thought of tearing a man’s throat open excited her. And about how frightened she was.

And yet, she held her tongue.

Massaging his shoulder, Darach cast a glance over at the corpse still sprawled a few feet away. “At least, he didn’t give you any trouble.”

“No … the dead don’t.” Rising to her feet, Ailsa brushed off her skirts. Pointless really, since her clothing was already travel-stained and soaked. Wet wool itched and scratched against her skin. She was sure she reeked. What she wouldn’t do for a steaming bowl of water and a cake of soap right now.

Pushing the longing aside, she then picked up her satchel and slung it over her front. “Let’s go.”

“Aye.” He kicked earth over the smoldering embers and glanced north.

Ailsa followed his gaze, taking in the dark wall of granite peaks that pierced the lightening sky. “Not much longer, is it?”

“No … those whoresons are so close I can almost smell them.”

She cut him a sidelong look, noting the dried blood on his hands and a bruise that was coming up on his left cheekbone. The man looked as if he’d spent the night wrestling a troll.

How close was the beast to taking him completely?

Their gazes met, and neither of them looked away this time.

Despite the pattering rain and her clammy clothing, warmth suffused Ailsa’s chest.

Last night had changed things.

She no longer watched him, wondering what he was hiding.

He’s been honest with you … maybe you should do the same.

Her chest constricted. Gods. How she wanted to, but she couldn’t.

How could she tell him about that obscene dream?

He had an explanation for his behavior. She didn’t.