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I hung up and then walked across to the wall of windows, watching the ducks waddle around catching bugs in the grass, while I sipped the whiskey and waited for Aiden to arrive.
As the lights of his truck lit the driveway and scared the ducks away, I went back to the kitchen to prepare him a drink and top up my own. He walked in a few seconds later, looking weary and radiating sadness.
I walked over, handed him the glass, and then rose on my toes and kissed him, soft and lingering.
“A greeting a man could get used to.” He tossed back the drink in one gulp. “I think a few more of each just might do the trick.”
He snaked his free arm around my waist and pulled me closer. Our kiss was long and intense, filled with an aching hunger that came as much from his need to forget as desire. Even when the kiss did end, he didn’t immediately release me. He just rested his forehead against mine and held me, obviously needing the comfort of contact to ease the inner turmoil so evident in his aura.
Eventually, he drew in a deep breath and released me. I plucked the glass from his hand and walked back to the kitchen to refill it. He followed me across and sat on one of the stools lining the counter. “Tell me about your day.”
I did, knowing full well he simply didn’t want to think about the loss of a friend and the necessary incarceration of another.
“I’ll talk to the council in the morning and get them to order a full search through all the compounds,” Aiden said. “But if they smell as bad as you’ve said, they would have been found by now.”
“Which is exactly what Ashworth said.” I leaned on the bench and took another drink. The loose neck of my dress ballooned open, and his gaze slid from my face to my throat and then down. I wasn’t wearing any underclothes, and desire surged through his aura and stung the air. “How many mines are there in the reservation that match the horizontal criteria?”
“More than a hundred. But once the compounds are searched, I’ll get them to check the surrounding areas. We might get lucky.”
“Right now, luck might be all we have.”
“Then here’s hoping that trap you set works.” He tossed back the remains of his drink. “I’m off to shower.”
“Good. Even upwind, the smell was getting unpleasant.”
A grin teased his lips. “The pong must be bad if your very human but delightfully cute nose is smelling it so strongly.”
“It is, so get thee to a shower while I start cooking.”
He grinned and headed upstairs. By the time he came back down—wearing loose sweatpants and a T-shirt that hugged his lean but muscular frame in all the right places—I was plating up our meals.
I poured us both another whiskey then moved across to the other side of the counter and sat beside him. We chatted as we ate, our conversation moving easily across a number of topics, all of them deliberately light. He really didn’t want to think about what had happened during the day, let alone talk about it. Not any more than he already had, anyway.
Night had well and truly set in by the time we’d finished dinner and moved on to coffee. Though it was still relatively early, he yawned hugely.
“Sorry,” he said. “I think the late nights have finally gotten to me.”
I clucked my tongue. “My werewolf has no stamina. How sad.”
His blue eyes twinkled. “I’ve more than enough stamina to tumble you, my dear witch.”
“How about a massage first?”
His eyebrows rose. “Me or you?”
I placed a hand on his arm and felt his muscles twitch in response. Felt the tension of grief underneath. “I’m thinking you need it more than me tonight.”
“Possibly.” He caught my hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed my fingers. “I must, however, warn that having you sitting naked astride my buttocks while you massage my back could lead to a very thorough ravishing.”
I grinned. “I’d be disappointed if it didn’t.”
“Good. Shall we retire upstairs?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
He rose and, maintaining his grip on my hand, led me up the stairs. The cool light of the rising moon filtered through the vast wall of glass lining the lakeside wall of his bedroom and gave the masculine tones of the room a silvery glow. While he stripped off, I went into the en suite to grab the massage oil. It was one I’d made especially for him, and contained little more than the faintest whisper of sandalwood, a scent I liked and that didn’t overwhelm his more sensitive olfactory senses.
He was lying on the bed when I walked back into the room. I took a long moment to admire him in all his naked glory, running my gaze from his feet, up his well-toned legs, then over his hips and firm butt and up his spine to his slightly wider shoulders. Werewolves might generally be on the lean side, but his body was powerful and perfectly proportioned. Beautiful, even.
