Somewhere in the forest, a twig snapped, and Cian whirled with his blades raised. A glance out of the corner of his eye told him Ward hadn’t moved from his spot on the wall.
Failinis?
It is a deer.
“You’re good.”
Now that he knew there was no imminent threat, Cian lowered the swords slowly. “Not good enough.”
“Good enough to kill a man ten different ways before he hits the ground.” Ward’s voice was steady. “But it looks like you’re holding back. Are you?”
Cian bared his teeth. “I always hold back.”
Ward’s gaze flicked to the blades, then back to his face. “Why?”
Because if he didn’t, he’d shift and he’d hunt. If he and Failinis started to hunt, they would not stop until they found this San Diego place and Derek. Trace had made the rules very clear. “It’s not allowed here.”
“Right. The no-shifting-alone rule.” Ward cocked his head to one side. “That’s what you mean, right?”
Cian wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. “Among other things.”
“You’re used to being the law.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re in a place where the law says you can’t be who you are.”
His grip tightened on the hilts. “Yes.”
Ward pushed off the wall and came closer. “Then whatcanyou do?”
“Go mad.”
“I’m hungry, and it’s hot.” Ward stretched. “Let me introduce you to the wonders of ice cream.”
Cian’s muscles burned, a welcome sensation and much better than acknowledging the tangled knot of emotions churning within him. The idea of ice with cream was foreign and strange, something he’d never encountered in Tír na nÓg. “What is this… ice cream?” He sheathed his swords, intrigued despite himself.
Ward’s grin widened. “It’s cold, sweet, and comes in flavors you can’t even imagine. You need to taste it to understand.”
Ward led the way back inside, the air cooler than the garden but not as unsettling as the hum of magic Cian had felt in the other rooms.
He watched Ward rummage through the cold food larder, emerging with a container and a pair of spoons.
“Prepare yourself.”
He handed him a bowl piled high with what looked like snow that had been flavored, only this snow smelled like the sweetest of creams. Cian eyed it warily, then dipped his spoon into it. The first bite sent a chill down his spine, the sweetness blooming across his tongue. A surprised hum escaped him. “This is… unusual.”
“Also addictive.” Ward took a bite of his own, nodding. “You’re adjusting better than most would.”
“Perhaps.”Perhaps not. He was struggling more than he wanted to admit. Failinis whined within him, yearning for the open forest of their homeland, for the familiar pull of pack and territory. But if ice cream was a symbol of this world’s oddities, he might survive.
Before Cian could delve deeper into this strange situation, the door swung open, and Trace and Juice entered, the urgency in their steps palpable.
Viper stood behind them, tapping the side of his talk box. “Listen up.”
Ward straightened. Cian followed suit, catching the shift in atmosphere.
“We’ve got a situation.” Viper’stone was clipped, all business. “A helicopter is on the way. CO wants us back. We’re spinning up for a mission.”
