“We’re adapting, Arthur, and we’re very good at that.” She leaned closer to the screen. “Is she good to you?”
I considered the question. “We’re only friendly,” I said. “But she’s brilliant. And kind. And very funny.”
My mother’s expression softened. “Arthur, finding your mate is a gift, not a hardship. You have been given something rare. Cherish it. Do not borrow trouble from the future.”
Something in my chest eased.
“I should go,” I said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Go back to her.”
I ended the call and stood there a moment longer, the city quiet below me, the tension I had been carrying looseningwithout effort.
When I returned inside, I moved just as carefully. Artemis shifted but didn’t wake as I settled back beside her. I adjusted the blanket and lay down beside her.
She stirred and went very still.
“The storm stopped,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
“I slept through it.”
“You did.”
She absorbed that for a moment, then she nodded, like it had confirmed a theory. She sat up, the robe loosening as she moved. The quilt slipped down to her waist, and the fabric fell open at her shoulder without her noticing. Pale skin. The soft curve of her collarbone. The suggestion of cleavage that made my attention lock instantly and treacherously.
I quickly looked away even as heat flared, low and sharp, immediate and unwelcome in its intensity. I went very still, every instinct reining itself in by force of habit and something deeper. Something that wanted.
She wrapped the quilt around herself a second later, oblivious, and I matched her movement, sitting up slowly, giving her space without stepping away from it. I adjusted my breathing, failing to focus on anything but her. My awareness of her had nothing to do with propriety and everything to do with desire.
She had no idea.
I did.
We got ready for the day, each of us careful not to rush the other.
While she gathered her things, I took the muffins Caliban had packed out of my bag. She came into the main room as I set them on the small table.
“You brought muffins?”
“Yes. Well, Caliban did.”
She smiled. “That tracks.”
We sat next to each other as we ate the blueberry muffins. She broke hers in two before biting into one half, and my gaze focused on her lips.
The air around us became charged, electrical.
When Artemis reached for her mug, her fingers brushed my wrist. She paused.
“May I?” she asked.
Her attention had landed on the mark on my wrist that summoned Caliban.
“Yes,” I said.
She touched it lightly. Just a graze of her finger. Barely any pressure at all.
