“It means behold the sun.” I glance up, squinting. Today is one of those bright autumn days when not even a wisp of a cloud streaks the sky, and the sharp, dry air warmed by the still-strong sun feels like a glorious contradiction.
“Is that why you’re always telling me to get some sunshine?” Her question is clearly baited, but I don’t bite.
“Sunshine is good for everyone.”
“Not for vampires,” she says dryly.
I grunt a nonanswer, my gaze straying to the still-healing bite marks on her neck. “Are you up for sparring?” I ask. I might be changing the subject. I might also be trying to get my hands on her.
She frowns up at me, her eyes narrowing under the shadow of her hand. “You’re the one who won’t let me join training.”
“You’re ready now, though. Aren’t you?”
She sits up so fast I barely see her move, intensely eager. She’s intense about everything, which makes me wonder how Rita and Gerard could so easily ignore her. I didn’t know about their indifference—not until their role was mostly finished, and it was too late to undo the damage. Formative years stick—I know that better than anyone. “I was ready days ago. Now I’m just bored.”
Laughter rumbles out of me. “I didn’t want to rush it.”
Her face suddenly falls. “But I don’t have a hair tie or pins. I’ll…” She glances at Fyrestar.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make an exception.” I harden my voice. “This time.”
She stands, already bouncing on the balls of her feet, itching to fight. “I only have knives.”
She was expecting a lazy afternoon at the lake with her phoenixes. Instead, she got me—and likely an invitation to disaster.
“Knives it is, then.” I stand with her, then nod to her birds. “You three can go hunt for lunch. I’ll bring Idallia home.”
She goes still, gaping at me. “Flying?”
My heart cramps impressively. “Did you want to walk?” I ask gruffly, my chest tight enough to strangle my voice.
She shakes her head, her eyes so wide they swallow me whole. I hear her heart pound. At least she can’t hear mine.
Fyrestar glances at Idallia. It takes her reassuring nod for the phoenixes to actually leave.
I unwind a little once they disappear into the trees. It borders on childish, but I had her all to myself that night after her scream, and I’ve been craving her companionship ever since. If her birds are here, I’ll come last. I want to come first, even if it’s only for an hour.
She rolls her shoulders and unsheathes her knives. “I might be a little rusty.”
And I might be suffering from highly distracting thoughts and feelings.
I infuse my expression with wolfish aggression, trying to hide my turbulent mood. “I’ll go easy on you, Sunshine.”
She looks over sharply. “I’ve never had a nickname before.”
“Never?” My blood heats.
She shakes her head. “Not even something ridiculous, like shortening Idallia to Dally.”
I laugh without meaning to. “Would you have wanted that?”
She twirls her knives, looking thoughtful. “Yes and no. I’d hate it, but at least it would make me feel special.” She slows, her eyes widening as she seems to realize what she just revealed. Color splashes across her cheeks, and I do my best not to react and make her feel more awkward.
Great fucking stars. I need to stop. Or else…commit to the course. The way her blood rushes in her veins, her heartbeat thunders in my ears, and her flushed skin heats the air around us, spreading her scent, overloads my senses. She’s clearly affected by me—there’s no doubt in my mind now—and I don’t want to resist anymore. But don’t I have to? Especially while I still hold her most vital truths.
Withhold them.
Tension gripping me down to my deepest layer, I clench my jaw and start circling her like a predator. The analogy is apt. I am a hunter, and she’s everyone’s prey. She just doesn’t know it.
