“Oh,” she said, faintly. “How fast do you normally fly?”
“A lot faster than that.” He brushed her windswept hair back from her face, tucking stray strands behind her ear. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
“I was nervous at first.” She leaned against him, letting his solid strength support her. “But I knew you wouldn’t let me fall.”
Her heart was still beating fast, though for a different reason now. Paige doubted the brief flight had taxed Conleth’s strength in the slightest, yet pressed against him, she could feel his pulse echoing her own. She slid her hands up to the back of his neck, and his breath caught.
“Paige,” he whispered, his voice gone husky with need.
She drew him down, stretching on her toes to meet him halfway. His fingertips framed her face as their lips met. This time, she made herself go slowly, savoring every light, teasing contact. His touch stayed featherlight on her skin, as soft and gentle as the kiss—yet his hands tensed, as though it was taking all his effort to hold back.
“You’re still going slow,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Not out of personal preference, believe me.” With a final brush of his lips over hers, he drew back. “But you said you wanted to talk.”
That reminded her of all the unspoken questions that still lay between them. She stepped back as well, some of the giddy exhilaration from the flight draining away. “Right. Let’s go inside.”
She turned toward the house—and her mouth fell open.
From the air, it had seemed a modest, unassuming building, half-hidden amidst the trees. Now she realized it was much larger than she’d originally thought. Sleek banks of floor-to-ceiling windows blended with stone and timber, flowing in organic curves. Greenery from a terraced roof garden softened the upper lines, while living trees rose through holes in a wide wooden deck. The whole structure seemed to float amidst the trunks, as much a part of the landscape as the forest itself.
“You livehere?” she exclaimed.
“I realize it’s a bit ostentatious for one person, but I had to maintain the pretense that I believed Joe’s damned prophecy.” He took her hand, pulling her gently across the lawn. “People would have thought it odd if I hadn’t built a home fit for my future mate.”
Paige stumbled over a hillock of grass, too busy goggling up at the masterpiece of architectural design to pay attention to where she was putting her feet. “This would be fit for the Museum of Modern Art. I feel like someone’s going to yell at me if I get too close.”
A hint of concern entered his voice. “You don’t like it?”
“Conleth, it’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”
He stopped, frowning down at her. “But do you like it?”
He looked honestly worried that she might not. “I love it. I’m just a little overwhelmed. My family’s entire apartment could fit onto your deck.”
Apparently reassured, Conleth guided her toward the door. “Watch your step. I haven’t had a chance to come back to cut the grass since the start of summer.”
“You own a house like this, but you still mow your own lawn?”
He shot her a rather sheepish look. “Not quite in the way you may be picturing.”
She grinned at the mental image of Conleth in pegasus form secretly snacking on his own front lawn. “So you like to indulge your animal appetites sometimes, huh?”
His gaze traveled down her body. “Some of them.”
The ten feet to the front door abruptly seemed like a mile. “If you keep saying things like that, we’re not going to make it inside.”
His eyes glinted. Without warning, Paige found herself swept off her feet. Her head whirled with a sudden rush of movement—and then Conleth was putting her down in the middle of a spacious, open-plan living room.
“Wow.” She turned slowly on the spot, impressed all over again. “This is…”
Beautiful,she’d been going to say, but that wasn’t quite right. The roomwasbeautiful, with its warm wooden floors and stunning views across the darkening mountains. Yet it was also surprisingly cozy. She’d had a vague idea that Conleth’s tastes would run to sleek, stark minimalism, but the living space was dominated by a huge, squashy couch covered in bright blankets and fluffy pillows. Everything was gentle curves and inviting textures; soft, homely. True, there were touches of fancy technology—an elegant feature fireplace set behind glass in one wall, a discreet sound system with scattered speakers—but the overall impression was of a place to live rather than show off.
And not just a place for one person to live, she realized. The closer she looked, the more the little details became clear—all decorations set above child height, the complete lack of sharp angles. Smooth wooden floors for little feet; pillows and blankets ready for small bodies to snuggle up for a story. An old oak dining table, already scarred by previous generations, with ample space for a whole family.
On the outside, the house was elegant, impressive, sophisticated. But on the inside, it was a home.
“You,” she finished softly. “It’s very you.”
