“They didn’t have age spots or other skin damage. You couldn’t see the veins in their hands anymore, and they had the elasticity of a twenty-year-old. Yet they were clearly older.”
“It must be nice to never age.”
He shrugged. “I’ll never know what I’d look like as a forty-year-old man. Or eighty. The world will age, and I’ll remain the same, like one of the statues in my parlor. Maybe that’s a little sad.”
After he left the room, I pondered his words while stroking the lush rose petals. Everything aged in the cycle of life, but Atticus would never know what that felt like, for better or for worse.
I dipped my face into the red blooms and drew in a breath. The petals tickled my nose, and when I opened my eyes, I shrieked in horror at spiny black legs crawling up my nose. While stumbling backward, I slapped at my face like a crazy woman.
A crash sounded in the hall, and a split second later, Atticus burst into the room. The next thing I knew, he had me pinned against the wall, his eyes trained on the room.
“Where’s the threat?” His caged voice made the hair on my arms stand up.
I shuddered. “Spider.”
He frowned, but a laugh burst free when I swatted my face again. “Are you afraid of everything with fangs?”
“Is it in my hair?”
He assessed my curls before running his fingers through them. A heat sparked in my blood with his body pressed against mine, his hands in my hair, his masculine scent, his heart thumping against my chest.
Atticus looked over his shoulder and then veered away, oblivious to my growing desire. My racing heart from the scare must have thrown him off.
He placed his hand on the floor and collected the insect. “Why do you fear them?”
“Because we’re not immune to venom.” I straightened my blouse, which tied below my breasts. “It might hurt the baby.”
Atticus shook his head before cupping his hands around the spider. “You could do more harm to this tiny creature than he could do to you. He’s just a common house spider. Nothing to fear. I’ll take him outside to wither in the sun.”
“You can take him all the way into the woods for all I care.”
He laughed while sliding open the balcony door and stepping out into the sunshine. When he returned, he was squinting so hard that I couldn’t see his eyes.
“Does sunlight hurt terribly?” I asked.
He crossed the room and blinked a few times. “It feels the same as it would if you looked directly at the sun. The older you get, the higher your threshold for pain.”
“I never realized it hurt for the ancients. You should wear sunglasses more often.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle. I usually wear them while running errands, but not in my own home.”
I glanced through the open doorway at the dishes and food that Atticus had dropped all over the hallway floor. “Gosh, I’m sorry about that. All those biscuits…”
“No worries, my lady. I can always make more.”
“Maybe I’ll help. I’ve never made biscuits before. Have you heard from my pack this morning?”
“They’re still busy wrapping things up from last night. Cleaning evidence, disposing of bodies, getting rid of a vehicle—that takes time. I suspect Tak will call me this evening with an update.”
I drifted toward the door. “Do you have anything to do around here? Or should I nest in my room with my knitting needles? We should have some fun.”
“Fun?” Atticus joined my side. “I have just the thing.”
The black ballrolled toward the white pins at the end of the lane. When I heard that delightful sound of pins knocking, I cheered.
Atticus chuckled softly. “That wasn’t a strike.”
With a smile on my face, I sauntered to the leather bench seat and sat beside him. “This is marvelous. I haven’t bowled in decades.”
