Page 223 of Beasts of Mine

“Sore, exhausted, and very happy.” I answered Luca as I let my legs relax into the bedding and took stock of the ache running through my thighs, cunt, and newly marked glands.

“That order seems accurate.” Tavian told me as he rubbed one palm slowly over my shin, amusement returning to his eyes now that he knew I was okay.

“Water.” Malek told me as he moved out of the nest and reached toward the supplies near the doorway, his usual practical focus returning as soon as there was something useful he could do.

“I missed how romantic you are.” I told Malek as he came back with a cup and crouched beside me, catching the small movement at the corner of his mouth.

“You'll survive.” Malek replied as he handed me the cup, keeping his fingers around it until I had it securely. I drank while Luca cleaned me carefully and Tavian pulled one of the blankets free from the mess we'd made of the nest. Malek checked each mark without touching the broken skin, then adjusted the pillow beneath my head while Luca handed me sliced fruit and waited until I actually ate some.

My camera case and personal bag still sat near the entrance where I'd abandoned them when Tavian came running at me. Patagonia dust marked one corner of the case. Inside were work notes, travel documents, and a drive filled with photographs I couldn't wait to sort properly.

None of it looked strange sitting inside an ancient hidden temple.

Tavian rested one hand over my ankle while Luca settled close enough for our shoulders to touch. Malek lay behind me with one arm loosely around my waist, careful not to put pressure against my sore neck.

Across the room, Tavian's dark stone remained on my shelf beside my hair tie and empty memory-card cases. The drawer still held the clothes I'd deliberately left behind, and my camera equipment sat only a few yards from the nest with three months of work inside it.

I was going to take another job eventually. Maybe the next one would be shorter and maybe it wouldn't. There would be other animals, other temporary rooms, and probably other nights when I made a small nest somewhere far from this rainforest.

Then I'd return with new photographs, too much laundry, and stories Tavian would almost certainly interrupt halfway through.

Being their mate didn't take any of that away. I could consider three people I loved when I made decisions without handing those decisions over to them, and they could miss me without asking me to stop doing work that mattered to me.

Home didn't have to stop me from leaving. It could be the place where my camera cases sat beside my nest and nobody asked me to choose between them.

For the first time, I had both.

EPILOGUE

EVIE

The first thing Tavian did when we walked out of the airport was stop beside the automatic doors and look back at them. Again. We'd already passed through three sets on the way out, and people moving around us had started giving him the occasional curious glance as the glass panels opened for another traveler, closed, then opened again when someone approached from the other side.

“You know they're going to keep doing that if you stand there.” I told Tavian as I shifted my camera bag higher on my shoulder, watching the doors open behind him for what had to be the fifth time as a family maneuvered several oversized suitcases around us.

“I know. I'm not confused about the doors.” Tavian replied as he finally moved out of the way, though his amber eyes followed the panels until they slid shut again.

“You spent ten minutes yesterday making an elevator go between two floors.” I reminded Tavian as I started toward the pickup area, humid evening air already making loose strands of hair stick to the back of my neck after two weeks in a much drier climate.

“There was nobody waiting for it.” Tavian defended himself as he caught up and took the duffel hanging from my left shoulder, shifting the strap across his own body before I could decide whether I wanted the help.

“You made a child press the buttons for you.” I told Tavian as I glanced sideways at him, remembering the little boy announcing every floor while Tavian treated the elevator ride as serious research.

“He wanted to. His mother said it was fine.” Tavian replied with complete confidence as he adjusted the duffel against his back, the wheels of my larger case bumping over the uneven pavement beside me.

“His mother was laughing at you.” I informed Tavian as we crossed toward the waiting shuttle, stepping around a couple reorganizing their bags near the curb.

“She seemed nice.” Tavian decided with a grin, apparently satisfied with that part of the story. I snorted and kept walking, although I couldn't stop my own smile. Taking Tavian with me had been an experiment, and despite several moments that had made me question my judgment, it had worked.

Two weeks photographing coastal wildlife had been long enough for me to learn a few things about traveling with him. He handled early mornings better than I'd expected and could sit quietly for hours when an animal required it, although afterward he usually talked enough to make up for the silence. He carried equipment without treating me as though I couldn't manage it myself, learned quickly which cases he needed permission to touch, and developed a serious interest in convenience-store food.

Airports were another issue entirely. Security annoyed him, the seats on the plane were too small for his legs, and he'd spent most of one layover offended by the price of a sandwich. Vending machines had fascinated him enough that I'd eventually stopped answering questions after he asked who refilled them for the third time.

More importantly, having him there hadn't made my job harder. Not every assignment would work that way. Some locations were too controlled, some accommodations were too limited, and there would always be jobs I wanted to do alone. Tavian hadn't argued when we'd talked about any of that. He'd only asked whether there would eventually be another trip he could join me on.

There would be.

Our final boat ride the next morning felt familiar in a way airports never would. Tavian stretched his legs beneath the narrow bench while I kept one camera case between my boots, the river slipping past us under heavy morning humidity. After two weeks away, the rainforest smelled strong again—wet leaves, dark soil, warm river water, and flowers somewhere beyond the trees. Moisture already clung to my skin, insects buzzed around the edges of the boat, and bird calls carried from both banks.