JULIETTE
Thecanvasflapsettledbehind me with a soft hush, leaving me alone with every place Nick Mercer hadn't touched yet.
Finally. No more layering of wind through Acacia or the erratic soundtrack of the bush. Just the slow sweep of the bamboo ceiling fans, the straight timber posts, the taut canvas seams. Stillness, ordered.
In theory.
I set my phone on the counter and stayed still. Heat clung to the back of my neck. My pulse steadied. The engine hadn’t left my bones yet.
The linen shirt loosened next, one button at a time. The fabric was stiff with grit and the humidity of the trek, clinging briefly at my ribs before I peeled it off one shoulder.
The dragon curved along my spine. Coiled. Waiting. Hidden unless I chose otherwise. For me, it was a very personal decision made a decade ago. It wasn't a public statement. It was a private anchor—something I carried under the surface to remind me who I was when people mistook restraint for weakness.
My phone pinged. Then again.
SISTER CHAT
Perfect timing. Lie, deflect, or provide just enough truth to avoid detonation.
RAYANN:Check-in. Now, Jules. That’s a summons, not a request.
BRYNN:She’s definitely doing the "minimal disclosure" thing. I can see her staring at the screen, calculating exactly how many syllables she can get away with.
SUMMER:Answer the woman. And don't give us the weather report. We need an update on the ranger.
Ah. Commander Summer had entered the chat.
The Malbec caught the light as I filled a glass, a dark, liquid stain. I didn’t drink.
ME:I’m in my suite. He isn't here yet, but he’s coming back for dinner.
BRYNN:“Coming back” is doing a lot of work here.
BRYNN:And dinner?
BRYNN:Wait. Is he cooking for you?
BRYNN:JULIETTE.
BRYNN:You don’t even letusinto your kitchen.
RAYANN:That’s not dinner. That’s a mating ritual.
ANNIE:Statistically, providing a high-protein meal in a private setting increases interpersonal bonding by 40%. It’s apattern, Jules. You don’t invite a man back for Wagyu if you’re planning on staying "contained."
SUMMER:This is post-event calm. I recognize the tone. You went radio silent once already. You don’t repeat that kind of decision unless it’s no longer a mistake.
I shifted, pushing off the table too quickly. The movement landed louder than it should have.
ME:It’s a temporary situational adjustment. It was a long day. I climbed a tree.
BRYNN:I’m fucking sorry—you did the fuck what? You don't climb. You delegate climbing. You don't even like uneven pavement.
RAYANN:Why were you in a tree, Jules? And more importantly, where was your ranger while you were playing wood nymph?
ME:There was an… excited… warthog. We had a disagreement about personal space.
BRYNN:Pumbaa or the ranger?
