“Well, that’s a relief.”
He huffs out another noise of amusement as he guides us to a two-story building, a bear paw and butterfly wings etched into the door. It creaks when Kai pulls it open, the yellow light of flame gems placed equidistant around the foyer illuminating every corner. Kai talks with a female who sits at a desk in front of a wall of wooden cubbies, metal keys on braided ribbon strips stuffed into each one.
Our rooms are on the second floor, the doors facing each other from across a skinny hallway. Walking into mine, I sigh in relief at the clean and quaint space, dropping my pack to the floor. White pillows and a rich burgundy comforter beckon me to collapse onto them, but I immediately head to the bathroom for a cool shower.
Once the sweat from our journey is washed off of me and I’m dressed in clean clothes, I open my door to head to meet Kai and find him already waiting for me in the hall. He’s showered too, the longer strands of his hair on top pushed back from his face while a few shorter ones hang over his forehead. Even wearing a simple short-sleeved white tunic, the material thin enough to see the black tattoo lines underneath, there is no mistaking the power he exudes. No questioning that this male is not just any predator in a land of beasts but the apex. The one all others should bow to. If only he could see himself in that light. His gaze travels over my own outfit, slight surprise glinting in his eyes at the green dress I chose, the shade reminding me of the dark-colored leaves on the albero trees back home.
“I didn’t know if dinner would require a nicer outfit. I can go change—”
“No,” he cuts in, moving towards me and reaching out his hand. “I will find myself quite angry with you if you change.”
I snort to hide the way those words spark heat between my legs and place my fingers into his waiting palm without hesitation. We still have so many things to talk about, but givinghim my hand is a choice that doesn’t require much forethought. He guides me towards the stairs, the width of them just enough for us to descend side by side.
We step out into the cooler evening air, glittering silver stars shining brightly above us along with a nearly full moon. Kai gives me a brief tour of Honna’s village center. The people milling about smile warmly at him, a few even come out of their stores to speak with him, shaking his hand before introducing themselves to me. Some glances linger on the place where our fingers are interlaced, and each time it happens, I try to wiggle my hand free. Kai responds by squeezing my hand more tightly. Eventually, I give up the pointless act and instead offer a small smile at the questioning looks that get sent my way. The truth is, even if these people asked outright, I wouldn’t know how to explain why he is holding my hand. Or why I enjoy it so much.
I keep watch of the gazes that land on us, noticing a haggard few outliers that keep to the shadowy corners of the shops. One includes a male, his hands resting on two young females—their clothes dirtied and hair messily gathered behind them. They watch us warily as we pass, like they aren’t sure if we’re a threat. They make no attempt to speak with Kai, so I don’t bother pointing them out to him.
We walk all the way to the edge of Honna, where a two-story business stands. The windows are open on the first floor to reveal a gathering of people laughing and singing and talking.
When Kai opens the door and guides me in with a hand on my low back, every gaze in the establishment lands on us. Then a cheer goes up and glasses clink together, and despite myself, I can’t help but smile. The people here don’t send Kai menacing looks or secret glares. They don’t snarl in his direction or whisper as he passes. Instead, they offer genuine conversation and revelry, and something about that—about knowing thatthere is a place on this island that doesn’t harbor ill will towards him—makes my stomach feel pleasantly warm.
“You owe me an explanation of what your tattoos mean,” I say around a bite of food, the salty ocean breeze pulling more strands of hair from where I’ve tucked them behind my ear.
Kai’s fingers drum along the stem of his wine glass, the red liquid nearly gone within it. He extends his arm on the table until the entire top of it is bathed in moonlight. “Let me see your hand.” I reach across the table, and he wraps his fingers around mine, setting them over the first band of ink that is lowest on his wrist. “There is an ancient ritual that all shifters must go through before they are considered an adult. They can request the ceremony at any age past seventeen. Only when they master the challenges can they get their first tattoo and begin the tableau that will detail their lives.” His skin is warm beneath my fingertips as he drags them up to the next tattoo.
“When did you request your ceremony?” I ask, my gaze fixed on our point of contact.
“The earliest moment I could.”
“And when did you get your first tattoo?”
I can hear the pleasure—and pride—in his voice when he answers, “Seventeen.”
My eyes find his then, only to dip down to his lips. His smile can’t be described as wide or brimming compared to someone like Jahlee, but for Kai, it is like watching the exact moment the sun dips past the horizon or a star winks to life in the night sky. It’s rare andraw.
Clearing my throat, I gesture to the next set of lines. These are more intricate than the band, a V-shaped pattern filling thespace between two thick black borders. “What does this one represent?”
“My mother,” he says thickly. His fingers twitch around mine, but when I look at him, his attention stays focused on his arm. My thumb brushes the back of his hand in a gentle swipe, and the corner of his mouth lifts a little in response. I push my fingers farther up, tracing over the next tattoo. It covers most of the rest of his forearm, the design one of black whirls like cresting waves that meet at the midline of his arm. The melancholy that surrounded him seeps away as he explains that this larger piece is dedicated to Jahlee.
“I imagine that she loves having such a large focal point devoted to her on your skin,” I tease, earning a deep chuckle from him. “Do any of these represent a past lover?”
Not that I had ever asked, but neither Kai nor Jahlee ever mentioned anyone from his past that he might have been romantically involved with. I suppose I hadn’t really noticed, between the general stares of disdain or disinterest he received, if there were also those who looked at him with open hunger. He is an attractive king, his strength and fortitude only adding to his appeal. I had to imagine that there was no shortage of females—and males—wanting to drag their mouths over his body. Wanting to watch him crumble beneath them. Or over them.
“No.” His one word answer draws my focus back up, and I arch my brow in question. In a movement that makes him look younger, he drags his hand through his hair and holds it there, his voice a touch quieter as he says, “There have been lovers but never anyone important enough to ink permanently on my skin. I have neverallowedthere to be.”
I nod, understanding his need to self-isolate in this way. He goes on to explain what the other swirls and intricately woven lines mean. Some represent his animal form, others pivotal moments in his life. He casually mentions the first time he killeda rebel who attacked him, showing me where the short marks of ink that are on his upper arm are dedicated to the life lost. Our elbows rest on the table as we lean in towards each other, Kai letting my fingers drift over his arm as he tells the story of each one. It really is a tapestry of his life, one that only he truly understands but is willing to give me pieces of.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say quietly, my fingers cold without his touch when I lean back in my chair. He dips his chin and drains the last bit of his wine before we leave the restaurant and make our way back to the inn, our conversation shifting to the events of the public forum.
“I want to apologize to you for that,” he states as we climb the steps to the second floor. We stop in front of my door, Kai’s towering frame in front of me as I lean back against the wood.
“And whatexactlyare you apologizing for?” I ask as my lips curl. “There is the fact that you thought I was sabotaging you. You could apologize for ignoring me for days—”
“Let’s assume that the apology extends from the moment I stepped off the dais to now,” he interrupts with a wave of his hand. “It was not easy hearing what I already assumed to be true from the people of this kingdom. It was as if the whispers that caressed my back became screams pelting my front.” He shakes his head, apprehension pulling down his brows and sending a hint of vulnerability into his gaze. “There are not many people I trust, but I am loath to admit that I trustyou. So, I’m sorry.”
His sincerity pulls my breath from me even as guilt slithers like a serpent in my veins, making my heart pound beneath my ribs. “And if I don’t accept your apology?” I deflect, focusing instead on the desire taking root when he glares down at me.
“Of course you would make this more difficult.” He closes the distance between us, his chest rising and falling only a few inches away from my own. Despite his words, his eyes devour mine, eager intent gleaming within them.
