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Ikept my hand on the door handle. Searle, toweling his hair from the shower but otherwise naked, was already there. Steam from the shower hung in a haze at the top of the ceiling. His scent permeated the room, his usual moss-rock masculine composure, although flecked with bits of things that were on his mind.
His body was traced with scars. Nothing extraordinary, like Sterling’s silver scar, or deep gouges or wounds. But it took a great deal to make a werewolf scar, and Searle’s body betrayed he’d seen his share of fights in his twenty-seven years. His body was beautiful in a way, like an elegant weapon that had been used as such weapons should be, shaped and fashioned with pride and utility in mind.
Sterling’s body had always intimidated me or sent a shiver down my spine. He’d carved it with ruthless, relentless efficiency from stone with his own claws. Everything about his physique, from the shape of his calves to the cut of his hair, had been a weapon crafted to serve a singular, terrifying purpose.
Sterling’s presence had always been like a blade already against the throat. Searle was the claw gauntlet within easy reach, but it wouldn’t come to that… now would it.
The towel settled around his thick shoulders. “Curious?”
Something curled around his soft voice.
I yanked my gaze off his body.
“You’ve seen me quite a few times,” he added.
“Is there anything I need to know about you and Emily?” Time to drop a rock on whatever that hint of an emotion was he’d betrayed.
“No. Did she tell you there was?”
I adjusted to my best Chronicler Inquiry tone. “No, I’m just asking for your side. She told me hers, and that there wasn’t really anything to tell besides you two kept each other company.”
“You haven’t seen a need to ask me this before, why should you be concerned now? There’s nothing to know.”
“Would you tell me if there was? I’d rather if you were just honest.” Searle was impossible to read. Emily seemed a bit wounded, but it could have been what she’d said: disappointment. She’d had her favorite toy, and it’d been given to me, and maybe the favorite toy wasn’t sad about it.
“I am being honest. I’ve had my share of companions. I’m sure you had yours as well—”
“No.”
He tilted his head. “Excuse me? That seems unlikely. Are we talking about the same thing? An intelligent, highly decorated harrier who also happens to be strikingly pretty is always going to havesomeattention. I know you were likely very cautious at the last Meeting, given the political scent of the place, but for a time, you werethemost intriguing she-wolf at the Meeting.”
I half-laughed. “You’re joking. Shut up.”
“It’s true. You had many admirers. I was not one of them.”
“Well, I was like eighteen and you were what…twenty-four? That’s a little sketchy.” Sterling turned twenty-six in May, and I’d be twenty-one in another week. Searle had just turned twenty-seven, putting a bit of a gap between the two of us.
He acknowledged this with a bit of a nod. “But you did have many admirers.”
“I had no idea. As far as I could tell, no one wanted anything to do with me.”
“Gutless cowards. I suppose they moved on to easier prey, because you did have a reputation for being aloof.”
“Sounds like the diplomatic way of sayingfrozen bitch.”
This got him to crack half a smile. “I’d say you’reextremelyselective about who you spend time and energy on, and most wolves in general won’t make the cut. But don’t try to tell me you’re untouched.”
Selectiveandparanoid. Same difference, perhaps. “But Iwas. My father was strict. Not a handprint on me.”
“Wait, youarea virgin? Even now?” He didn’t hide how appalled he was.
“Notnow. I’ve beenthoroughlydeflowered.”
“But… he was your only… experience?” Searle asked, picking over the words, and he hated talking about Sterling.
“Just him.”
He boggled at this. His disbelief wasn’t feigned. “No, no. Females?Anyone?”
