We arrive at the shoreline near Starworth Tor before sunrise, close to the rocky outcropping on the eastern side of the cove. The morning here is cloudy and gray, quiet save for the gentle rumble of distant thunder and the roar of a turbulent sea. Waves roll in and crash along the coastline as a small storm brews to the west.
Everyone exhales relieved sighs as our little unit dismantles. We’ve a bit of a walk ahead of us, but at least we didn’t land in the middle of the Malorian Sea.
I take a deep breath of salty air, but it’s saturated with other scents already beginning to feel permanent to me. Wintry, smoky, earthy scents. Scents that belong to Neri.
As I let go of his dark plum jacket, our crew scatters, led by Zahira who breaks into a jog. Everyone is eager yet a little unnerved about what might be found once they make the trek up the beach to the main house. But Zahira points toward a dim, flickering light illuminating the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the outdoor breakfast area, and a faint curl of smoke rising from the chimney.
Signs of life. Thank the Ancient Ones.
A bright smile crosses our captain’s face, and she shouts something, but her words are lost in the rhythmic din of breaking waves.
With his dark hair tangling in a sea wind, Alexus watches Zahira, a soft curve on his lips as he lets out a second sigh of relief. Scrubbing his bearded chin, he scans the tor, pausing on the lighthouse that stands like a pale monolith against the gloomy sky. I can see thoughts of Raina racing across his eyes, even through the murky light of an overcast dawn.
When he peels his attention away, he peers at Neri, annoyance furrowing his brow. “You missed, wolf. Not by much, but you missed.”
Neri’s lips settle into a tight, thin line, and his face hardens as only his face can. Though I can tell he wants to, he says nothing, and I have to wonder why.
Alexus pushes the strap of his leather bag up his shoulder. “You coming, Nephele? I have a feeling a reunion and one of Yaz’s feasts awaits.”
I flinch a little at the mention of food, but I shake it off quickly. “Yes, of course. I’ll be right behind you. I just need a minute.”
He doesn’t like that answer. I know because he glances to where Neri’s hands still rest at my waist, beneath my jacket, and then back at me with a concerned glare. But even though he hesitates for a few long moments, and even though he doesn’t look happy about it in the least, he finally walks away, leaving me and the wolf alone.
“I take it this is about our rendezvous last night,” Neri says before I can so much as open my mouth to aim this conversation in the direction I’d meant for it to go.
The truth is, two seconds earlier, ithadbeen about last night. I’d thought to offer a quick thanks for the healing and walk away. But now, with his hands on my body again after they’ve teased me so intimately, and after his lush mouth has so sensually tasted my skin, that particular discussion—no matter how short and sweet—is far more uncomfortable and difficult to broach than I anticipated.
“Itwasn’ta rendezvous, wolf.” I step back, searching for distance. As much as I loathe him, his touch and nearness spark an unbidden flame inside me, one it seems I can barely control in his presence.
But his grip tightens, and he drags me close once more. Too close. So close my pulse quickens at the way he curves over me like a question I don’t know how to answer.
I swear, all common sense momentarily abandons me when he handles me with a rougher touch. There’s something about the dark way he stares down at me too, his face all violent edges and carnal promise, his white hair wild in the wind. It makes my head swim, and not because I’m still a little weak and don’t yet feel quite like myself.
“Fine,” he says, his voice rugged. “It wasn’t a rendezvous. I still want you to say what you wanted to say. No need to be nervous with me anymore, little bird.”
He rubs his thumbs along my bottom ribs, making my nipples harden as I revel in the warmth of his big hands, their heat seeping through my tunic.
I grip his wrists and pull his hands away though. Because I cannot think with him touching me like that.
“I’mnotnervous.”
He places his hands right back on my waist. “Oh yes, you are. You’re nervous and wanting. I feel you trembling.”
“Because it’s cold,and I’m worried about Yaz and Mari. And why do you call me that?Little bird.”
“It isn’t cold, and I think your friends are all right.” He gives me a half grin, his thumbs returning to their dance. “And I’ll tell you why I call you that once you finish what you wanted to say.”
“Yes, itiscold. And I simply don’t want to talk about last night anymore. I thought I did, but now I don’t.” Again, I pull his hands from my body. “I’m already tired of bickering with you. I can’t endure more of your mouth today.”
An impish expression flashes across his face, and I instantly hate myself for my poor choice of words.
I expect him to grab me again. To quip about how I was ready to endure his mouth last night and perhaps offer a test of endurance today once we get to our rooms.
Instead, he says, “I only want to know if your ankle is better. I’m not planning to mock you for what happened, though I might remind you, at some point over the next several days together, how desperately you wanted me in your bed.”
I roll my eyes as heat spreads across my chest, but evenIsense less maliciousness in the action than usual. “My ankle is better, and I do thank you for that. But as for the other, I was drunk. It was late. I was an emotional disaster. I was worried and sick and heartbroken and angry. I needed to unwind. I would’ve probably—”
“Fucked anyone,” he finishes for me, narrowing his eyes on me as though he sees right through me. “I think you say things like that to convince yourself that I’m no different from any other man who might tempt you. But that doesn’t make it true.”
