“Can’t tell you all my secrets yet.” He reached to place a hand around her waist. She elbowed him away with a scowl and headed toward the street.
“This isn’t a date,” she reminded him, heart pounding from his proximity. “This is dinner. Where you promised to make me want to murder you less. I’m still feeling murdery.”
“Give it time,” he said.
She pushed the gate open and frowned. She couldn’t see any unfamiliar cars parked on the snowy street. She’d half been hoping that he’d brought the limo so she could make fun of it.
He followed her, wings flexing. “Idoneed to touch you for this next part.”
“Oh, do you? What, are you lifting me gallantly over a puddle? News flash, everything is frozen. So keep your paws—” She cut off with a yelp as he scooped her into his arms, wings flaring out.
He grinned down at her. “Hold on.”
Then he took off, flying higher and higher, clearing the rooftops. Emma gasped as cold air stung her face. Whenever he took her flying in the old days, she’d bury her face in his mane to keep out the chill. Like hell she was going to do that now.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
She spat out a strand of golden mane.
“Go fuck yourself,” she managed. But it came out far too close to a laugh.
His grin widened. He held her tighter, wings sturdy and powerful as he flew them toward the mountains. She stared up at them as they worked. She’d assumed that his wings would be frail and useless after so long in LA with everyone driving him around. She should’ve known he would take his wing workouts seriously; not even a life of luxury would stop him from going flying in the mornings.
She didn’t dare glance down. She’d learned her lesson in high school after looking down during a romantic Valentine’s Day fly and nearly throttling him as she realized shewas, in fact, afraid of heights. A fact that he laughed heartily at when they got back to the ground.
You had nothing to worry about, he’d told her.I have you.
She tightened her grip, forcing the unwelcome memory out. He didn’thaveher. Not anymore. He just…wasn’t letting her fall. These old emotions had no right to come crawling back, some long-lost echo of how she used to feel in his arms, warm and comforted andsafeeven at the highest heights.
He landed halfway up the mountain, his shoes sinking into the snow. “Here we are.”
Emma twisted. He was taking her toward a fancy log cabin.
“There’s nowaythat was the only way up,” she protested, squirming out of his arms.
“There’s a path,” he agreed. “This was faster.”
“Oh, faster. Sure.” She grimaced at her boots. They were too short, snow leaking through her jeans. She had assumed she’d be dealing with the ankle-length snow around town, which had been cleared entirely around the main streets. She hadn’t been expecting to go up on amountain.
He pulled the sliding glass door open. “After you.”
She glowered at him and stepped inside, shaking her boots off as messily as she could.
He stepped in after her, giving her an appreciative look. “You look nice.”
“I do not,” she retorted, heading down the hall. She hadn’t even done her hair, her pixie cut sticking out even crazier than usual thanks to the unexpected flying trip up the mountain. “You look like a jackass.”
He followed her, tugging at his collar. “I’m not even wearing a tie!”
“It’s your face. Where’s dinner? My lunch was…” She stopped.
The living room was irritatingly gorgeous. Lush dark carpet and plants hanging from the ceiling. A fireplace smoldered in the corner. But that wasn’t what drew her eye—it was the view. The rear wall was made of glass, and the town of Claw Haven splayed out underneath them.
“Beautiful,” Arthur said.
She jumped. He was closer than she thought. She spun around to see him lingering behind her, looking out at the tiny, glittering town with a strange look in his eyes. Almost like longing. Then he blinked, and the look was replaced by his loathsome charm as he gazed down at her.
“Best seat in the house,” he informed her. “Luna set it up for me. They built the cabin last year, and I’m the first one to stay in it.”
