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“So out of control?”
“Completely.”
“Not once in your life?”
She felt defensive. “I think we women need to be careful. More than we realize.”
“There is much truth to that. So, then you must really trust Mastyr Rez.”
Holly opened her mouth to speak, but her thoughts got jammed up. Did she trust him? On some level, she believed she did. “The problem is, Rez isn’t my type, not even close. He’s, well, he’s a Neanderthal, if I have the earth-term correct.”
“You do, but are you sure about that?”
Holly shook her head. She recalled Rez’s study and the inscription in her father’s book. “No. I’m not sure at all. He’s a conundrum.”
“Holly, I say this with kind but firm intentions. You must open your mind. Your thinking is too rigidly generally. Too many boxes and everything and everyone stuffed inside them.”
“You think I judge people too severely then?”
“That’s just it. You shouldn’t be judging them at all. We’re realm-kind. None of us is all good or all bad. We make mistakes, then we strive to do better as we are able. We’re each shaped by the trials of our lives and sometimes what afflicts us is more than anyone can bear and not come out the other side unscathed.”
“You’re talking about Rez. You think I should be more compassionate toward him because he lost his family.”
“I was talking about you.”
“What do you mean? I’m fine.”
“You are two different people, the woman you were before your brother, Scott, died and the woman you became after.”
Holly looked away, her gaze shifting to the distant peaks. Had his death affected her so much? Altered her view of life, of people, of her understanding?
“I loved Scott so much. He was my best friend.”
“I know.”
“But I’ll think about what you’ve said.”
“Good.”
~ ~ ~
At least Rez was all cleaned up when he arrived at Stone’s home on the outskirts of Sandismare. Stone had given him time to shower again. He’d put on slacks and a long-sleeved shirt. He was presentable.
He hadn’t seen Rosamunde since that terrible night. When she brought him a single malt, Stone moved in close to stand next to her. She was a beautiful fae woman, but with strong wolf sh
ifter genetics. She was tall, had unusual dark violet eyes, and wore her red hair hanging loose round her shoulders and down her back.
She greeted him warmly and handed him the tumbler. “I thought you’d like this. Or you might even need it. Stone filled me in on the details. Difficult night?”
“You might say that.” Before he could take his first sip, however, he needed to extend his apology to Rosamunde. “I’m sorry about what happened two months ago.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Mastyr. And it wasn’t really mine either. Or Stone’s. None of us knew what was going on or how dire the ramifications could be. If I’d had that kind of understanding, I would never have gone after you as I did.”
“You went after me? What do you mean?”
“I went to the Wild Boar specifically to find you.”
“You did?” He’d never been more surprised.
