I kissed him back with equal certainty. We stayed at the cabin until the stars came out, sitting on the porch with his guitar between us, trading stories and secrets and pieces of ourselves. He played me more songs—some old, some new, some half-finished things he'd been afraid to complete. I told him about Marguerite, about growing up in the bayou, about the loneliness I'd felt before three Alphas stumbled into my life.
"I'm glad I stopped running." He said as we walked back to the motorcycle, the night thick and warm around us. "At least for tonight." He squeezed my hand, his thumb tracing patterns on my skin.
"Just for tonight?" I raised an eyebrow, a teasing note in my voice, my fingers still intertwined with his as we walked through the darkness, the sound of frogs and crickets filling the warm night air around us.
"Okay, maybe longer than tonight." He grinned, and it was his real grin—the one that reached his eyes, the one that made his dimples appear naturally instead of strategically. "Maybe a lot longer." He admitted, ducking his head with uncharacteristic shyness.
The ride back to my cabin was slower than the ride out, like neither of us wanted the night to end. When he pulled up to my porch, he cut the engine and sat there for a moment, his back warm against my chest, my arms still wrapped around his waist.
"I had a really good time tonight." He said softly, turning his head slightly so I could hear him. "The best time I've had in... maybe ever." He reached down and covered my hands with his.
"Me too." I pressed a kiss to his shoulder through the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling him shiver at the contact. "Thank you for showing me the real you." I murmured against his back.
"Thank you for wanting to see him." He turned around to face me, still straddling the bike, his amber eyes soft in the moonlight. "I know I'm not... I know I've got a lot of work to do. A lot of walls to take down. But with you..." He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch impossibly gentle. "With you, I want to try." He finished, his voice rough with sincerity.
"That's all I ask." I leaned in and kissed him softly, sweetly, a promise for more to come, my hands resting against his chest where I could feel his heart beating steady and strong beneath my palms. He walked me to my door, his hand warm in mine, and stood on the porch looking at me like I was something miraculous.
"Thursday." He said, echoing what I'd said to Harper. "The meeting. I'll see you then." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my jaw.
"Try not to start any fights before then." I teased, throwing his own worry back at him gently, reaching out to brush a curl from his forehead, my fingers lingering against his warm skin.
"No promises." His grin was crooked, almost shy. "Fontenot's got a very punchable face." He joked, but there was no real heat in it.
"Remy." I gave him a look, mock-stern but with warmth underneath, my hands on my hips as I stood on the porch step above him, the moonlight catching the mischief dancing in his amber eyes.
"I'm kidding. Mostly." He laughed, then sobered, his amber eyes searching my face. "Artemis... thank you. For tonight. For everything." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead, soft and reverent.
Then he was gone, the sound of his motorcycle fading into the night, leaving me standing on my porch with my heart full and my lips tingling.
Gumbo rumbled from the darkness.
"I know." I told him, pressing my hand to my chest where something warm was blooming. "Two down. One to go." I smiled into the night.
Silas was next.
I wondered what secrets he would show me.
Chapter Thirteen
Artemis
Silas didn't pick me up at six like the others. He showed up at four in the morning.
I was still half-asleep when I heard the soft knock at my door—not the rumble of a truck engine or the roar of a motorcycle, just a quiet tap that I almost missed. I stumbled out of bed in my oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, my hair a wild tangle around my face, and opened the door to find him standing on my porch in the pre-dawn darkness.
He was wearing worn jeans and a dark t-shirt, sleeves pushed up to reveal the tattoos that wound around his forearms—military insignia, I realized now that I could see them up close. Dog tags glinted at his throat. His pale eyes caught the faint light from inside my cabin, and for a moment, we just stared at each other.
"It's four in the morning." I said, my voice rough with sleep, blinking at him like he might be a hallucination brought on by too little rest and too much anticipation.
"I know." He didn't apologize, didn't explain, just stood there with that unnerving stillness that I was starting to associate with him, his broad shoulders blocking out the stars behind him. "You said I could pick." He reminded me, his deep voice quiet in the darkness, a hint of uncertainty flickering in those pale eyes.
"I did say that." I leaned against the doorframe, taking in the faint tension in his jaw, the way his hands hung loose at his sides—ready, always ready, like he was expecting an attack even here on my porch. "Give me five minutes?" I asked, already stepping back into the cabin.
"Take your time." He said it soft and low, his pale eyes tracking my movement with that focused intensity that made my skin prickle with awareness. "I'll wait." He added, and something in his voice made me think he'd been waiting for a long time. For a lot of things.
I threw on jeans and a soft sweater, pulled my hair back into a messy braid, and grabbed my boots. When I came back out, he was exactly where I'd left him, still as a statue, watching the darkness like he could see things in it that I couldn't.
"Okay." I stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind me. "Where are we going?" I asked, curiosity coloring my voice as I studied his profile in the faint light.
