“I already ate. Tarek left me food before you went out.” Dani held up the carved cat. “And he gave me this. He said it was a practice piece, but look at it! It’s so pretty!”
She took the little figure, turning it over in her hands. The craftsmanship was exquisite—every detail precise, from the curve of the ears to the tiny paws. It wasn’t a practice piece at all. It was a gift.
Her heart clenched.
Damn him.Damn the stubborn, complicated, impossibly kind male who pretended to be made of stone but carved toys for her sick sister and built furniture for guests he claimed he didn’t want.
“It’s beautiful,” she agreed, handing it back. “You should keep it somewhere safe.”
“I’m going to keep it forever.” Dani clutched the cat to her chest. “Tarek’s the best.”
Yes,she thought.He really is.
Even though he avoided her for the rest of the day.
He wasn’t obvious about it—he was too controlled for that—but she noticed the way he found excuses to be in different rooms. She noticed the way his eyes slid past her whenever she enteredhis space. He answered her questions in monosyllables and retreated at the first opportunity.
Fine.If he needed space, she would give him space.
But she would not let him pretend that kiss hadn’t happened.
While Dani napped in the afternoon—her energy still flagging despite her claims of feeling better—Jessa explored the den more thoroughly than she had before. She’d been there nearly a week now, but there were corners she hadn’t examined and rooms she’d only glanced into.
The storage room Tarek had converted for his own use was sparse but functional. A narrow cot. A small trunk for clothing. A single candle on a rough-hewn shelf. There was nothing personal, nothing revealing.
The main room she knew well—the fireplace, the table with three chairs now, the carved shelves lined with books and tools and the small treasures of a solitary life.
But there was another space, half-hidden behind a heavy curtain she’d assumed led to another storage area. Curiosity got the better of her, and she pushed the fabric aside to reveal a small alcove, barely more than a niche carved into the stone. Empty, mostly—just bare walls and a layer of dust that suggested it hadn’t been used in years.
But something caught her eye. A bundle of fabric, shoved into the far corner like someone had tried to hide it.
She pulled it out carefully. The fabric was fine—finer than anything she’d seen before. Deep green silk, or something like it, embroidered with metallic thread that had tarnished to dull bronze.
She unfolded it, and her breath caught.
It was a tapestry. A portrait, really, woven with a skill that made her hands itch with envy. The subject was a Vultor male in a high-collared coat adorned with medals, his shoulders thrown back, and his chin lifted with unmistakable authority.
Tarek.
The resemblance was unmistakable, despite the differences. In the tapestry, his hair was shorter, swept back from his face. His expression was commanding, the face of someone accustomed to power and respect. His eyes gleamed the same green as they did now, but there was none of the warmth she’d come to recognize, just cold authority.
What was this? Who had he been, before he came to this mountain?
She studied the tapestry more closely. The weave was masterful, but age had not been kind to it. The edges were frayed. Several threads had come loose, distorting the image in places. A tear near the bottom had been inexpertly mended with the wrong color thread, standing out like a scar.
Someone had tried to repair it, but that someone clearly didn’t know what they were doing.
I could fix this.
The thought sprang up unexpectedly, but once it arrived, she couldn’t shake it. Her fingers traced the damaged areas, cataloguing what would be needed. Matching thread would be difficult, but she had sunvine in various stages of processing. With the right treatment, she might be able to approximate the original colors.
It would take time and careful, patient work. But it would be a gift—something she could offer him that no one else could.
Decision made, she tucked the tapestry under her arm and retreated to the main room.
The work consumed her.
She sat by the fire, her head bent over the damaged fabric, while Dani dozed in the chair beside her and Tarek stayed… wherever Tarek was staying. Outside, probably, prowling the mountainside and pretending he didn’t have two humans inhabiting his den and disrupting his carefully ordered life.
