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But how the hell did she convince her irrational side of that?
17
Tamaska
“I can stay here,”she said.
Tamaska pulled out of Kodiak’s embrace and moved away.
“What? The hell you’re staying somewhere alone.”
She turned to face him. “I don’t think I can—”
“There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone,” said Kodiak.
“You said it’s safe here,” she said, turning to face him, her frustration burning to the surface.
“You’re not trained on the security system. You can’t get out of here quickly if you need to, not without being seen.”
“What, and you could?”
“Yes, in wolf form. We have procedures for the worst-case scenario if this hut was ever breached.”
“You think of everything,” she said with a huff. “But…”
“That’s our job. We’re in security; we’re here to protect.” He reached out and touched her arm.
She sighed. “Yes, but…”
“You’re strong enough to do it,” he said. “No buts. And I know what you mean by thatbut. Trust me, some might be rough around the edges, but they’re good people. And you’ve met my team. Way back…”
He trailed off as a small frown marred his brow. His hand moved down her shoulder and over her bicep as he stepped closer.
His frown deepened and he went completely still, everything focused on her.
She stood, her stomach fluttering like nerves has grown wings. “What…?”
“Hold on.” His fingers shifted on her upper arm, then stopped, digging into her skin.
“Hey,” she protested, trying to pull free from the sharp bite of pain. It wasn’t a deep pain, but it hurt, almost like he was too focused on whatever had his attention and he didn’t notice.
And with that thought, those butterflies turned into lead and sank.
“Kodiak?”
“What’s this?” He pulled her closer to him and peered at the top of her arm, pushing the short sleeve higher.
“My scars, as you know.” But her voice shook as she said the words. “That’s all. Just scars. Right?”
“No, this is like a red moon.” His gazed shifted hard to her. “Was it here before?”
Tamaska twisted to see the top of her arm and gasped. Kodiak was right. There was something like a tiny red tattoo on her arm, crescent moon-shaped, and the color of blood.
“What the hell?”
“So this is new?”
She glared at him. “It’s not really my thing, getting tattoos of red moons. Or tattoos. And, if getting vampire style-tattoos” —because that’s what came into her head, the vampire’s nightclub. The red of blood—“was my thing, I’ve hardly had time to pop out to get inked up.”
