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I watch Reyes as she speaks…the way the sun glints off his shirtless, tan back, his brow furrowed as he concentrates on trimming the last bit of tall grass.
I glance at Charlotte. “Did your uncle tell you to talk to me?”
“No,” she says. There’s not a hint of deception in her eyes—she’s telling me the truth. “I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone, and that we come here in all kinds of strange ways.”
I duck my head to look down at the grass, a little ashamed that I dared to even ask if she was trying to fuck with me.
“You know what I am, right?” I ask.
“A crusader? Yeah, I know,” she says. “And that’s another thing…my mate used to be one as well.”
I frown. “Really?”
“Really.” She sighs deeply, taking a sip of her own water. “And people werenothappy when we showed up, but they took us in anyway, and now we have a home of our own.”
“Do you live in the den?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “In a little cabin between here and the city, so I can visit my grandparents. But I’m telling you all this to say…I don’t know…that we’re used to seeing things in shades of grey around here.”
I can’t contain my laugh. “Was that a joke about dogs being colorblind?”
Charlotte nearly spits out her water, covering her mouth with her hand. She laughs so loud that it catches the attention of the others, and she waves them off.
“Tilda!” she says, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t recommend repeating that joke…but it was pretty funny.”
“I’m not really known for being funny, so I’m glad you appreciated it,” I say.
“I can see why Reyes likes you,” she says.
Which is, of course, news to me.
I really didn’t think Reyes liked me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
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TILDA
Four long, arduous days pass like that.
The work never seems to stop. We make sure the grass doesn’t grow back by laying down a tarp every night, and then we begin to till the soil, churning out rocks by hand. Charlotte’s mate, Elijah, swings by every so often with new supplies, though I’m not sure exactly where he’s getting them.
Still, I’m grateful for the fertilizer.
Reyes shows up every day, but he leaves me alone. He doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t even make an attempt to invade my space. In fact, he gives me a pretty wide berth, genuinelyhelpingand taking my instruction. He never questions me, just does as he’s told.
For such a big, bad wolf, he can be awfully obedient.
Despite my better judgement, I start to wander a little closer, addicted to that delicious scent rolling off him. Especially when the day heats up in the early afternoon, the aroma gets thicker, muskier, more powerful…and I can’t get enough of it. Sometimes I think I could fall asleepdrowningin that scent.
Red wine, incense,man.
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The sun sets on a Saturday night, painting the Texas sky in a rich set of jewel tones. Brilliant grapefruit pink clouds drift over a royal purple backdrop, bolts of warm lightning flashing in the thunderheads of a distant storm. The sound comes slowly across the plain, rumbling deep in my bones.
And the sky is such a gorgeous,naturalcolor. I like living somewhere without the celestial curtain in the way.
