He slouched in his chair, wishing the morning meal had come with a Delirium as he sipped his cold, bitter tea and tried to puzzle out his next move.
How would Otto react once he realized Mireille had left?
“Fuck,” he muttered, dipping his head into his hands.
Go after her, his wolf piped up.
Why? She wants nothing to do with us.
Goafterher, his wolf insisted.Partners do not leave each other behind.
That’s exactly what she just did to us!
Are you five? Apologize. Grovel. Do whatever it takes. You cannot do this without her.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole.
Ronin exhaled an irritated sigh. Deep down, he knew his wolf was right. If he had any chance of completing this bat-shit crazy assignment, any chance of getting the beast back, he needed to find the little she-wolf and convince her to return.
He pushed out of his chair, shrugged on his leather jacket, and went to hunt down his fucking irrational, infuriating, beautiful partner.
Adrenaline coursedthrough Mireille’s veins in a tingling rush, a warm contrast to the breeze biting her cheeks and tossing her copper strands.
With the barrier at her back, there was no way for her to escape the massive Beastrunner standing before her, his arms at his sides and his fists clenched. Primed for a fight.
“I… I just… I needed some fresh air. I thought we were allowed to roam the estate while we’re here.”
“You’re awfully far away from the main house.” Kosera’s voice sounded like boulders crashing together. “Why’d you come so far into the woods?” He stepped forward, her neck straining as she craned her head back. Wrath of fucking Vestan, he was the tallest Fae she’d ever met.
“I was…” Her mind spiraled, searching for a reason why she might be out here.
Every clever lie she’d ever spun eddied from her mind. She should have eaten breakfast. She was exhausted. And her mental state was in shambles after her near-death experience last night, the emotional roller-coaster of this morning’s opera performance, and the terror of Otto’s cryptic plans.
“Answer me, little ballerina,” Kosera growled, crowding her further. “Or perhaps we should go see Master Otto together?”
“No,” Mireille stammered. “Nuh-no. I came… I’m out here because I?—”
“Needed an open space to practice.” A familiar, sly voice bounded through the trees. “There you are, love. You weren’t about to start without me, were you?”
Her knees nearly buckled at the sight of Ronin traipsing through the ankle-deep snow, his marbled eyes laser-focused on her.
Kosera whipped his head around, frowning. “Practice for what?”
“That nugget of information hasn’t worked itself through the guests yet? Mireille’s been giving me dance lessons.”
Ronin stepped casually up to Kosera, and even though the Greyhorn had at least half a foot on him, Ronin’s presence loomed larger. He locked eyes with Kosera.Try me, asshole, his gaze said.
He’d gone mad. That was the only explanation Mireille could conjure. Kosera could shift, Ronin couldn’t. If the Greyhorn decided to show them both exactlywhyhe’d earned that nickname, she doubted Ronin could fight off a five-thousand pound bull.
Kosera surveyed the woods skeptically. “Doesn’t seem like the most conducive space for a dance lesson,champ.”
“On the contrary,” Mireille piped up, stepping out from behind Kosera and placing herself between him and Ronin. “I’vebeen going too easy on him. Wanted to give him the challenge of trying to keep his steps in the snow.”
Kosera’s brows pinched. “Bullshit. Show me.”
Mireille swallowed, about to open her mouth to protest, but Ronin grabbed her wrist, running a thumb across the base of her palm. Lightning shot through her veins at his touch.
He shucked off his jacket, handed it to her, then pushed up the sleeves of his tight black shirt to expose his toned forearms. “Get ready to have your mind blown,” he said, aiming a smirk at Mireille.
