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“You need to wear this,” she said, indicating a white silk robe draped over a chair. “Nothing else. It might affect the energy flow.”
I took the robe and glanced around. She pointed to a bathroom. I took it as a gift to be alone for a handful of minutes. There were yards and yards of billowy silk that didn’t hide much from the eye, considering its abundance. I tried to strategically place folds, and then my hair. I walked back out, my nerves feeling as bare as my form beneath the fabric.
The moment I re-entered the room, every eye turned sharply to me. Groza’s gaze flickered red, while Duncan’s eyes traveled a slow path up from my toes to the tips of my—
Kicks stepped in front of me before the path completed, his body becoming a barrier between me and the others.
His eyes stayed locked on mine, his jaw clenched with an effort that suggested he was battling his own instincts to look lower. Or was that boiling heat for Duncan? I was used to these shifters struggling with restraint, but I’d never seen Kicks so riled.
“You’ll be cold outside, so until we do the ceremony, keep this on.” He draped his jacket over my shoulders, enveloping me in the remnants of his warmth and the scent of coconut and amber. There was something almost intoxicating about his smell. It made me think of laying on the beach at sunset on a warm summer evening and all the delicious things that might come with that.
He pulled the jacket closed as he leaned in, smiling slightly. “Not sure this is the right time, but I appreciate the sentiment,” he murmured, the friction I’d sensed in him seconds ago softening, as if I’d somehow doused his anger toward Duncan.
I gasped slightly, belatedly grasping what that implied. My face flushed and I couldn’t hold eye contact anymore. “Huh?” I asked, as if I had no idea what he was talking about. He couldn’t have known my thoughts, could he?
His shadowed jaw brushed my cheek, sending a shiver through me. “Pheromones, Pips. They never lie,” he whispered.
My lips parted as the full situation hit me like a hammer. He could smell my thoughts, or at least this kind. My body’s response to him was as clear as if I’d spoken it. I was a human among creatures with the smelling ability of dogs, and I was currently thinking like a—
No. I wouldn’t go there. My cheeks were already red enough.
“Are we doing this, or do you two want to keep flirting in the corner?” Duncan’s voice shot through the room, shooting verbal shrapnel all over the place.
Before he turned around, Kicks smiled at me like he’d been the one to take the shot and hit his target. There was definitely some bad blood between these two, but I wouldn’t ask why. I had enough problems without getting drowned in theirs.
“Let’s head outside,” Groza said, waving me forward with a new urgency, as if the quicker this was done, the faster I’d be out of her hair for the day.
Her backyard was as cute as the house. A tall hedge enclosed a small area with a bench and bistro. A shed with flower pots stood in the corner. No one as cold as Groza should be allowed to own a home as warm as this. It was false advertising.
She extended a flask to me. “Drink this. It’ll initiate the change.”
Wait, she was in charge of the contents that would finish the change? The woman who wanted to kill me? Had driven me out of the pack? Had threatened my life if I returned? I was supposed to drink something just for me that she’d had in her possession?
I must not have been the only one with concerns—Kicks grabbed the flask before me.
“Kicks, that’s for her,” Groza said.
He unscrewed the cap, took a whiff, and then sipped it, acting as if Groza hadn’t spoken.
“Why do you have to always cause problems?” she asked. I might’ve been number one on her shit list, but Kicks didn’t appear to rate very high either.
“What problem? Thought I might get a little pick-me-up before the show. It’s not like it’s going to turn me into a guide.” He handed the flask to me. “Taste likes shit, so don’t expect much.”
He winked as he handed it over. Just when I’d thrown him back into the ass column, he did something like this and it blurred the lines again. Good guy? Utter jerk? It was hard to tell where to put him. It was as if he practiced staying within the gray zone.
I accepted the flask, my hand shaking slightly.
Kicks was watching too intently to have missed that. He turned to the group. “We need a minute.”
He grabbed my free hand and tugged me with him back into the house.
Duncan’s eyes were burning into me as we walked away, but he stayed put. Groza’s invisible collar and leash didn’t allow much slack.
Kicks was smiling as he opened the door. The minute it shut, it fell.
“You’re fine,” he said in a tone so steady, it was almost convincing. At that moment, all I wanted to do was believe him. His voice felt like the only thing I could cling to.
I wanted to believe him blindly, but logic wouldn’t get its bony hands off my doubts. “If you’re so sure, why taste it first?”
