She rolled away from him, snatching the underwear that was lying beside them. She had to walk a few more steps for the breast band and pants. She donned each item with angry motions, mortification and outrage making her nudity a concern of the past.
Shea hunted for her shirt, turning in a circle to find it. With each passing moment that she couldn’t, her anger grew.
“Shea.”
She turned in a sharp motion to see Fallon dressed and holding her shirt out to her. She looked at it for a split second, wanting more than anything to throw it in his face—a face she had spent considerable time kissing last night where every man in his command could watch and comment—but not being able to, because his men were standing right there and she was wearing nothing but a thin scrap of cloth across her breasts and a pair of pants.
She grabbed it from him and yanked it over her head—her blue eyes spitting chips of ice at him as they appeared above the collar.
She turned and stalked off, her strides eating up the distance. Fallon finished dressing and was a silent presence at her back as they made their way along the soul tree’s thick branch. Caden took point while the other two positioned themselves at Fallon and Shea’s back.
“Why are you so upset?” Fallon asked.
Shea’s lip lifted on one side in a semi-snarl. She wished she was some great beast with the ability to breathe fire. It would perfectly punctuate what a stupid question that was.
“Not now.”
“Shea.”
Shea ignored him, continuing without sparing him a glance. She didn’t know what made her more upset, the fact that Fallon’s guards had been shadowing them the entire time when she thought they’d successfully left them behind, the fact that they’d probably overheard them last night when Shea had made no attempt to muffle her cries—something she at least tried to do in camp where the walls were canvas-thin. Or perhaps it was the fact that Fallon didn’t even know why that would upset her.
He took hold of her arm in a firm grip, drawing her up short. “Shea, don’t ignore me. Answer my question—why are you upset?”
She twisted her arm out of his grip in a move leftover from her training as a pathfinder. “I do not wish to discuss this now.” Her eyes went to the guards at their back.
His gaze followed hers. Understanding dawned on his face.
He got it. Good. Took him long enough. Shea spun and continued on, not looking at anyone as her strides ate up the ground. She made no attempt to move quietly, rather liking the heavy thunk of her feet hitting wood. It made a nice accompaniment to her anger.
She’d always been a private person, or as private as you could be when half your life was spent on the trail with other people. There wasn’t a lot of physical privacy to be had out in the wilds, but she managed for the most part. The thought that the Anateri had heard Fallon and Shea in the middle of sex, or even worse, that they had heard any of the conversation afterward was enough to send Shea’s blood boiling.
The worst part was she should have known better. Fallon hadn’t hidden the presence the Anateri had in his life. They went everywhere he did, but while in camp their presence wasn’t quite as apparent. They were rarely in Fallon and Shea’s quarters, and when they were out and about, they could easily be lumped in with the rest of the Trateri.
So yes, she was pissed at herself just as much as she was pissed at Fallon. It didn’t help that the conversation last night hadn’t had the outcome that she wanted, matters left unresolved. Again.
They were quiet on the journey through the twisting pathways of the treetop roads, Fallon content to let Shea have her way in this. The trip took a lot less time coming back than it had going, the two of them less willing to get distracted by the sights. They moved with purpose, and before long, the village came into view.
One of the elders waited on the branch leading into the village. He looked nearly as old as the tree behind him, his hair thin and pulled back in a dozen different braids. His face was wrinkled and gnarled like a tree, his skin almost the color of bark. His clothes were a bright splash of color, like the only flower in a meadow. He held a walking stick that he leaned on for balance.
“I see you showed your man our oasis,” the elder said to Shea, his eyes sharp and knowledgeable in that old face.
“Yes, I thought he would appreciate it at nighttime.”
“And what did you think of our little friends’ home?”
Fallon was respectful of the older man, but not so much that it wasn’t clear who was in charge. “I’ve never seen the like in all my travels. I will take the sight of your oasis at night to my grave.”
The elder gave a gap-toothed smile full of innuendo—something hard to do when he was missing more than one tooth. “That place has a reputation among our village. A lot of babies have been born nine months after their parents have taken a dip in that water and spent the night under the fairy lights. A child conceived there is said to be touched by the gods.”
Shea’s cheeks caught flame as the Anateri suddenly found anywhere else to look. Fallon’s eyes swung to hers, amusement in them. She hadn’t known that. The elder hadn’t bothered explaining that when he told her about the place last week. Why couldn’t he have explained that little myth? And why did he choose now to reveal it?
“Is that right?” Fallon’s arm slid around Shea’s shoulders and he tugged her into his side. “We would welcome such an occurrence.”
Shea’s gaze shot up, a warning in her eyes. They were in no way ready for a child. They hadn’t even finished settling their differences, too much was up in the air to even consider such a big step.
His face was thoughtful and considering as if the idea was not an unwelcome one. Shea’s eyes widened and she shook her head at him. Nope. Not happening. Not any time soon. Besides them as a couple not being ready, she doubted she was. Not for the responsibility that such a tiny existence presented.
Fallon had brought it up in passing before, and Shea had been content to let it go with minimal protest, thinking that it was some theoretical future child. If the look on Fallon’s face was anything to judge by, it was not quite so theoretical to him.
