“I don’t need it,” he said gruffly.
“Neither do I. But it’s nice to have options.” She filled the cup and drank, then refilled it and held it out to him again. “Please. It’s the least I can do, considering you’re helping me.”
Slowly, he reached out and took the cup from her hand. Their fingers brushed, and he felt that same strange tingle he’d noticed when they’d shaken hands—a spark of something electric that made his beast rumble with satisfaction.
Stop,he told himself firmly, and raised the cup to his lips.
The rim was still warm from her mouth. He could taste the faint ghost of her on the metal, sweet and unfamiliar. His beast purred.
“Good?” she asked, and he realized he’d been staring at the empty cup like a fool.
“Adequate.”
She laughed again, that surprised sound that made something in his chest twist. “Such high praise. I’ll treasure it always.”
He handed the cup back to her and stood, looking away to hide the heat he could feel creeping up his neck. What was wrong with him? He’d been alone too long, that was all. His instincts were misfiring, latching onto the first available female because his body couldn’t tell the difference between a compatible mate and a human who would be gone from his life as soon as she got what she came for.
“We should continue,” he said. “The sunvine grove is not too far, but the light is fading.”
She tucked the cup back into her satchel and rose to her feet. Her cheeks were still flushed from exertion, her lips damp fromthe water, and once again his mind went to places it absolutely should not go.
They climbed for another hour and her words finally died away. He told himself he didn’t miss them. The trees thinned out, replaced by hardy shrubs and tough mountain grasses that clung to the slopes. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of snow and stone, and the air grew thin and sharp. He could feel the energy growing stronger as they approached the sacred place, the land itself humming with power.
She was struggling now, her breath coming in ragged bursts. Her face was pale with exhaustion, but she kept putting one foot in front of the other with a determination that bordered on stubbornness.
She is stronger than she looks,his beast observed, and he couldn’t argue.
Her boots, designed for village streets, offered little traction on the loose scree of the mountainside, and she fell behind again. He found himself automatically adjusting his stride to match hers as they climbed the last steep incline. Her hand occasionally brushed against his arm for balance, and each brief contact sent a jolt through him, a current of awareness he’d never felt before.
The sun was touching the western peaks when they finally crested the ridge and the sunvine grove came into view.
She gasped and he felt an unexpected surge of… pride? It was a beautiful sight, he had to admit. The grove occupied a natural amphitheater in the rock, a bowl-shaped depression filled with tumbled stones and ancient trees. And draped over every surface, catching the last rays of sunlight like liquid gold, were the sunvines.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, they’re beautiful.”
She was right. The vines seemed to glow with an inner light, their golden tendrils winding around rocks and branches in elaborate patterns. In the fading daylight, they looked like threads of captured sunshine, luminous and impossible.
“Be careful,” he started to say, but she was already moving, drawn forward as if hypnotized. Her hand reached out towards the nearest vine?—
“No!”
He lunged for her, but he was too late.
Her fingers closed around the vine, and it moved. The golden tendril whipped around her hand, tightening with vicious speed, and she cried out in pain as the edges cut into her palm.
He reached her in two strides, his claws extending automatically. He grabbed her wrist, holding her steady, and examined the damage. The vine had wrapped around her hand three times, each loop biting into her flesh. Blood welled up from the cuts, dark against her pale skin, and the sweet copper scent of it filled the air.
His beast roared.
Blood. Her blood. Our female is hurt.
“Stop moving,” he growled, forcing the beast back with an effort that made his vision blur. “The more you struggle, the tighter it will grip.”
She stared at her bleeding hand, then at him, her eyes wide with shock. “It… it attacked me.”
“A sunvine is a living creature.” He examined the vine, looking for the weak points he knew were there. “It will defend itself against an uninvited touch.”
He found what he was looking for—a small node where the vine connected to the main plant. He carefully extended one claw and severed it.
