TAUSHEN

“That was so beautiful,” Brooke tells me dreamily as we lie beside the fire that night. “Thank you for taking me there.”

She reclines across from me, stretched out on her pallet of furs in the hunter cave we have bunked down in for the night. The fire flickers between us, and she props her head on one arm, gazing into the fire. I sit across from her, legs crossed as I tend the fire and warm tea for us. After weeks of traveling, I know how Brooke likes her tea, and I make it without being asked now. It is a small thing, but I like pleasing her.

I nod. “It is my favorite place.” And it feels good to share it with her. It feels right, like I have exposed a part of my spirit and shared it with her. I like that thought. “I am glad you liked it.”

Her smile is sweet but distant, and she continues to gaze into the fire thoughtfully. She has been quiet this day, and when I asked her about it, she only said that she was thinking about the cave. I worry something is wrong, but I do not know how to ease into the subject. I have learned much about my Brooke over these last days and nights, and I know that she will talk about things, but in her own time. She does not like to be rushed. So I decide to care for her in the only way I can, at the moment. I offer her a pouch of travel rations, and when she declines it, ask, “Tea?”

She shakes her head.

“Not thirsty?”

“Just thinking.” Her gaze meets mine and she smiles softly. “Weirdly enough, thinking about the others and the twenty newcomers. I wonder how they’re doing with them.”

I ignore the stab of jealousy in my stomach. We are friends, I chant mentally. Nothing more than friends. If this is all that I can have of her, I will take it and be glad. I tell myself such things a dozen times a day in the hopes that one day I shall believe it. So far, though, it is not working. I still dream of Brooke and her soft limbs every night, and when I wake, it takes every bit of my strength to not cross the small cave and pull her into my arms. To kiss her until she decides she wants me as much as I want her.

Being “friends” has not eased the ache for her. It has only made it worse.

“Thanks for traveling with me,” she says, the thoughtful note still in her voice. “Feels like I’m getting to see stuff I’d never get to see otherwise.”

“Eh? Why would you not get to see such things?”

She shrugs. “Seems like most of the girls don’t travel much. They either have kids or are pregnant, so I guess that puts a damper on the wandering spirits.”

“Leezh and Mah-dee have kits,” I point out. “And Li-lah. They enjoy traveling with their mates.”

“Yeah, because they have a mate with them. I’m single, remember? No one to watch my back.”

I would watch it for her. “I will go to the ends of the land if you wish to. Anywhere you want to go, we will go.”

Her smile curves her mouth, and then she gives a soft chuckle. Her sweet, happy, true chuckle that makes my chest ache with want. “What if you resonate?”

“She can wait.”

Brooke just laughs even harder, shaking her head. “Says a man that hasn’t resonated. I suspect it’d be different if your ladylove was waiting for you.” She gives me a thoughtful look. “You think it’ll happen this time?”

“No.” I hope she does not ask me if I think it will happen for her. I worry my face will give away the truth.

“Mm. If you could pick a mate, any mate, would you pick a sa-khui or a human?”

“There is no sa-khui female of appropriate age to mate.”

“I know. We’re playing a game of pretend.” She gives me an exasperated look. “Go along with it.”

A game? It sounds like a dangerous one. I give her a wary look. “Very well. I would pick human.” My mind cannot wrap around the thought of picking another female. There is only Brooke in my mind.

“Dark-skinned or light-skinned?”

I sense a trap. Does she wish for me to confess my feelings for her again? To tell her that they have never changed? That I wake up every morning with no desire but to see her smile? That I care for her more and more every day? That the thought of bringing her back to the tribe and watching her resonate to another fills me with dread? But if I tell her such things…will it ruin our friendship we have built? Will she get uncomfortable around me and will our easy camaraderie disappear? I worry it will be so, and so I choose the answer least like her. “Dark.”

She nods, as if considering this thoughtfully. “Dark hair or light hair?”

Pink, I think to myself. “Dark.”

Her brows draw together, and she gives me a curious look. “So…basically like Tiffany.”

I shrug. What is the answer she wishes to hear? That I dream of the pink waves of her mane tickling my stomach as she curls up against me in her sleep? That I wish I had never stopped her when she put her hand on my cock? That I want her to demand more from me than just companionship?

I do not want to lose what we have, though. So I say nothing.

BROOKE

His perfect woman is Tiffany.

Damn it, I fucking hate Tiffany. I don’t even know her all that well, and I hate her. I hate her pretty face and her bouncy curls and her smile and how she’s good at everything. Oh, you want leathers? Talk to Tiffany, she’s the best at dyeing things. Plants? Tiffany. Traps? Tiffany can show you. Tiffany’s good at everything.

Tiffany’s also really good at leaving an impression, it seems, because Taushen still views her as his perfect woman. Dark skin. Dark hair.

Damn it all, why do I care?

I shouldn’t. I should feel sorry for him that he’s in love with a happily mated woman. Instead, I just want to cheerfully choke someone at the thought of her smiling at him.

I told myself I didn’t care. That we were just friends. But as I toss and turn in my bunk that night, I think it’s pretty clear to me that we aren’t—and can’t be—just friends. Because I keep thinking about how sweetly he touched my hair and stroked my cheek as I lay under him. I think about the tender way he called me his mate. I think raunchier thoughts, too, like when he pulled my hair while he was deep inside me and I freaking loved it, and when his spur pushed against my back door and I loved that, too.

Really regretting my whole freakout and the “can we just be friends?” thing. This is new to me. It’s not just that we’re friends and I feel closer to him than I’ve ever felt to anyone. It’s the added complication of him wanting more and me pushing him away and demanding nothing more than companionship. It was my choice, and he’s given me what I wanted.

For all intents and purposes, he’s moved on.

Me? I’m stuck. I keep thinking about that night and wondering if it was incredible because of the drugs or incredible because of the man. I won’t know unless we have sex again. Because mind-blowing sex with my best friend? It might be the best thing ever. It might be…perfect. I might be in love.

But do I ruin what we’ve got by trying to push things in the direction of lovers once more? Or will he think I’m blowing hot and cold and get mad at me? If only he’d give me a signal of some kind, I could know which way to turn.

Of course, him telling me that Tiffany is his perfect woman is a signal. But I’m going to choose not to think of it that way. He liked me before. Maybe it was just his dick talking post-sex, but it’s a shot. I can turn him from Tiffany, I think. She’s mated and off the market, and I’m right here.

All I need to do is show him what he’s missing out on. I think.

I hope.