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His conviction swayed mine.
His gaze tipped down to the fawn as he nuzzled the stranger’s knee, searching for milk. Shadows had thickened around him, drenching his feet and placing little Natim in swirling darkness even while the sun shone. “Your fawn still needs milk. You cannot leave here without him, and he cannot be away from Kiu until he’s ready to be weaned.” His fingers dug painfully into me. “You promised one night for me. But you have no choice but to promise a few more for him.”
Letting me go, he inhaled hard and closed his eyes. With temper tightening his jawline, he somehow summoned back the shades and shadows until every last tendril was gone.
Opening his dark gaze, he muttered, “I know you’re confused, Runa. So am I. I’m as lost as you are. But don’t believe I’m not willing to fight for the one thing that feels like home.” His fingers shook as he ran them gently over my cheek. “I won’t rush you. I won’t force you to do something you’re not willing to do, but don’t assume you can push me away or convince me that what I feel for you is what I’d feel for any other female.”
He dropped his hand and backed away. “It’s not. I know that in here.” He thumped a fist over his heart. “And I’m not afraid to be selfish and chase whatever it is, because I’m sick of not knowing and you are the only thing I’m certain of.”
Scooping up Natim, he stormed away from me before stopping and adding, “I’ll take him to Kiu to feed. I won’t bother you again until you’ve accepted that no matter what warnings you’re given or how many fears you have, I won’t stop trying to know you. I won’t stop scratching at my broken mind until one day I will remember. I’ll remember for both of us. And when I do, you’ll see that I was right to hold on to you because everything else? It means nothing unless we’re together.”
He left me on the riverbank.
Stalking off with Natim without another word.
Chapter Twenty-Four
. The Stranger .
I COULDN’T TAKE MY EYES off the cave’s entrance.
I’d sat next to Kiu as she fed Natim. He’d fallen asleep with a full belly, drunk on milk with his littermates.
That had been hours ago, and I hadn’t moved.
And Runa still hadn’t returned.
My back had stiffened and bones seized as I stayed cross-legged, never taking my eyes off the entrance as afternoon turned to dusk and dusk now bled into night.
Where is she?
She was safe enough on her own. The wolves hadn’t left her side, even if she wasn’t aware of them keeping watch. Verio and Zetas had been in the treeline while Runa had swum in the river, and two juvenile males who I hadn’t named had replaced them as the females had followed Salak into the grasslands when I’d returned to the cave, following a scent on the breeze that didn’t belong.
I’d stopped and inhaled the dense, rich air full of soil and rain-dampness. I couldn’t smell fire or smoke nor any other tell-tale scents of the Nhil clan. They hadn’t come for her. They had no way of knowing I’d taken her or where I lived. Whatever Salak was hunting wouldn’t have a chance to hurt Runa, so I honoured what I’d told her and kept my distance, even though every heartbeat pounded as if it would explode right out of my chest.
A scuffle of feet on rock made my ears twitch.
My thundering heart skipped with blood-soaking relief. The footsteps were from a two-legged creature, not four.
Instincts demanded I leap up and run to her side. To yank her into my arms, and smash my mouth to hers. But I swallowed those urges, kept my hands wedged over my lap now wrapped in Salak’s dead foe, and kept my face as neutral as I could make it.
Runa appeared in the silvery cast of twilight, picking her way gingerly over wolf tails and outstretched paws as the pack finished their snooze before a night of roaming. My eyes were well adjusted to the falling darkness, and it seemed Runa’s were too, despite living with the Nhil and their constantly burning fires, chasing away the shadows with its orange blazing light.
Natim’s tiny head popped up from the bundles of wolflings. He struggled to free himself, bleating in happy welcome as Runa smiled and ducked to her haunches to stroke the baby deer. “Your little stomach is as round as a plum.”
I didn’t speak.
My mouth might not move, but my eyes definitely did. They drank her in, noticing the freshness of her white hair, the cleanliness of her skin, and the way she’d wrapped the deer skin around herself so only her arms and legs were visible. All the sinewy strength of her—the elegant sweep of her collarbones and muscle-corded stomach were now hidden along with her breasts and between her thighs.
