Page 86 of Ash Storm

What’s wrong with me?

He could no longer kid himself that this might just be desire. Because desire was part of it, sure—it was impossible to ignore the way their bodies just fit together—but there was so much more. Something about Reka made him think of forever, even when forever was something he had no right to.

You could be dead next month.

It’ll be years before you’re free.

And, even then, what kind of freedom would he have. The crime he’d been accused of wasn’t one that could simply be erased.

“Ash? You with us?”

“Uh, no, sorry. I missed that.”

“I said, let’s go to the kitchen. Slate said he was cooking dinner tonight.”

“Slate?” Rogue drawled. “Should we be ordering something as back-up?”

“You’d be surprised,” Griffin said. “Slate spent a lot of time in the kitchen with our grandmother when we were young. He can actually cook.”

“It’s so strange to think of you two growing up together,” Rogue said.

“Yeah,” Griffin agreed blandly, but something hard shone in his eyes.

The group moved along the corridor towards the large industrial kitchen, where Slate was busy pouring something into cups.

“What’s that?” Dark asked, coming in from the terrace. “It smells good.”

“Grab a tortilla and dig in. We’ve got home-made salsa, guacamole, and chicken fajitas,” Slate said. “There’s a cooler with beer and Coke over there.”

Ash knew the Coke was for Rogue, who didn’t drink alcohol.

“I love fajitas,” Reka said, moving quickly to the front of the line.

Ash followed, more interested in her and what she liked—apparently she preferred her fajitas heavy on the salsa but light on the sour cream—than in the food available.

He was so busy staring at her, he didn’t realize he’d piled tortilla chips onto his tortilla, instead of the chicken and pepper filling. He moved them quickly to one side of the plate and tried again.

Rogue passed him on the right, shaking his head sadly, but didn’t say anything. Ash contented himself with glaring at his teammate until he moved further down the line.

When they all had their food, they went outside to the terrace and sat at the long table there. It was a chilly March evening, the weather nowhere near as nice as it would be a month or two later, but at least the snow had melted, and there was no wind tonight.

“Thank you. This is delicious,” Reka said, taking a big bite from her fajita and giving Slate a smile that made Ash wish he’d been the one to cook dinner for her.

Really?

You’re jealous, now?

Ash drank some of his Corona, pondering this new development. He’d never considered himself a jealous man.

“So, tell us a bit more about what you do, Reka,” Dark said, wiping some sauce off his fingers on a napkin.

“I take it we’re going to talk about me, since we can’t talk about what you guys do?” she asked shrewdly, taking another bite from her fajita.

“She’s got your number, you have to admit,” Alexia said, laughing and dipping a piece of carrot into the guacamole.

Reka smiled a knowing smile. “I’m a psychologist. My area of expertise is emotional well-being. So yes, I’m familiar with deflection.”

“Who do you work with?” Rogue asked, sounding interested.