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“I wish I baked.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What?” he asked, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth.
“I wish I baked so I’d have something useful to give them. Muffins or something to say thank you.” I frowned. I didn’t really have any hobbies other than yoga and dealing with supernatural drama, which was practically a job, anyway. “I need a hobby.”
“Two separate conversations,” Connor said. “They don’t need a gift. They’re being generous because they want to and because that’s the type of people they are. They don’t need us to validate that. And hobbies, yes. Everyone should have a hobby. I have Thelma.”
“I’ll think on it,” I said.
“Perhaps you could... play the vampire.”
“What?” I looked up at him, found his lips parted, his eyes hot and intense. I cocked an eyebrow. “Enjoyed that, did you?”
Before I could respond, his body was pressed against mine, and it was abundantly clear just how much he’d enjoyed it.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissed him well and thoroughly. And I would have raked fangs against his neck if there hadn’t been five keen-eared shifters outside.
“Vampire and wolf,” I said when the kiss cooled, and I rested my head against his chest, was calmed by the beating of his heart. “Who’d have thought?”
“Nature,” he said simply.
TWENTY-THREE
It was early when I rose, the world just going dark. The sun had already slipped below the horizon, which was marked in brilliant shades of yellow and orange. I walked outside and stretched, considered going for a run. Last night’s breeze had apparently been a harbinger of fall-like weather, as the temperature had dropped again during the day. A low fog had descended in the chill, rolling across the lake like smoke.
And I saw Lulu beside the lake, a small shadow against the marked sky.
I walked her way as birds shuffled in the trees and fires began to crackle on the other side of the resort.
She sat on a low stool, knees together and ankles spread, a wooden box on an easel in front of her. She dabbed orange paint on a canvas the size of a postcard. Half a dozen more canvases—the sunset in various stages of production—littered the ground around her.
“I’m trying to grab the light before it’s completely gone,” she said without looking up. “It’s hard to capture the sky when it keeps changing.”
“Looks like you’re doing a good job of getting each stage.” Careful with the edges, I picked one canvas up. It had been finished just before dusk, the sun a globe of light at the edge of the world, the sky just beginning to blush.
“This is gorgeous,” I said, and wondered—not for the firsttime—what it would have been like to see a sunrise or sunset from beginning to end.
“Thank you,” she said, frowning as she switched to a buttery yellow, began to place highlights among the clouds. “I’m only going to have a couple more minutes before it’s gone.”
“I’ll wait,” I said, and stared quietly across the lake. Watched the waves move hypnotically toward the shore, and let myself relax. It might have been the first time on this not-vacation that I’d done that. But my mind didn’t slow. Not just because of everything that was going on here, but because of the decisions I knew I had to make when I went back.
I’d grown up with martial arts classes, piano lessons, tutors. In Paris, I’d started school again, had lessons. My life had been scheduled, regimented, and I’d liked it that way. Graduation, then service to the House of vampires; my nights had still been ordered around my obligations.
Now I was the guest of a friend, a temporary Ombud, and a woman—for the first time in her life—who didn’t really have a mission.
“I need a hobby.”
“Well aware,” she said as the sky darkened, orange flaming against purple.
“Maybe I could learn to paint.”
“No.”
Her answer was just fast enough to be insulting. “Why not?”
“Because you’re literal. You like rules. Art—even realistic art—is about pushing past boundaries, perception, concepts.”
I didn’t like the answer, even if I found no basis to disagree with it.
