Day two.

Cornwall.

Nine a.m.

Status of mission: Fucked.

“This trip was supposed to be simple,” Minach muttered to himself under his breath. “Go to Cornwall. Find a Dragon, tell him to get his arse in gear, and then locate the Relic.”

But no. In the short time since his and Amara’s arrival, he’d managed to discover that the Dragon was dead, his Seeker was torn between her Wolf and human sides, and Amara had pushed him away again.

Probably for good this time.

She was still upstairs in her room, no doubt determined to avoid any contact with him. And who could blame her? He’d kissed her like a fool, even though she’d told him that she couldn’t be with him.

He hadn’t respected her plea for solitude. He’d fucked up. Again.

Well, it was high time that he made his way into town in search of Caitlin. The sooner he found her and persuaded her to help him, the sooner he could head back to London, back to his old life and away from the pain associated with this godforsaken place.

Damn this cottage, damn my desire, and damn the Relics.

He left a note on the kitchen table for Amara, telling her of his plan. She would know where to find him if she needed him, but he assured her that he could look after business on his own. The Enlightened should get whatever rest she needed; no doubt she’d been as lacking in sleep last night as he had.

As he strode out of the cottage, his feet hitting the grassy path that led towards Perthewey, his pace quickened. The horrible truth was that he couldn’t get away fast enough from Amara’s scent, from her presence, from anything associated with her, and he needed to focus his mind on something else.

He had no idea what had happened inside that beautiful head of hers yesterday, but it wasn’t good. He’d never seen her look so hostile, never heard such strange violence in her voice.

Well, he couldn’t blame her for any of it. It wasn’t her fault that he wanted her so badly.

Or maybe it was.

She showed up in his life too often, yet not often enough. She teased him with her presence, then pulled herself away. His balls had gone from blue to indigo on more than one occasion, his body left frustrated, craving her affection, her touch.

Yet he couldn’t be angry with her. She was denying herself, too. Giving herself tiny tastes of the Dragon shifter then retreating, for both their sakes. Minach was no idiot; he understood at least some of the insurmountable difficulties that her life entailed. He just bloody wished she’d let him help her. If her concern was that she was too frail, then he could be gentle. If she was frightened, he could protect her, or at least calm her. But the damned woman was as stubborn as he was, and headstrong. Convinced that she functioned best alone, when he knew exactly how badly she wanted his touch, his companionship. He knew what it was to be lonely. He knew that the gift they could give one another would cure them of that particular plight, if nothing else.

Something inside Amara had snapped the previous day, a temporary madness taking up residence inside her. She’d behaved for a moment like a snarling animal, forcing him to flee from her, when all he wanted was to calm her. The look in her eyes had been so strange; a look he’d only ever seen from Forsaken seeking a kill.

Amara was no Forsaken, though. She would never hurt him. Or would she?

The thought of it sent a reluctant shiver down his spine as he made his way towards Perthewey’s High Street. He realized for the first time that he hadn’t eaten anything that morning. Or had coffee, for fuck’s sake. That was what he needed to clear his mind: a solid cup of hot brown liquid. He stopped to look at the first café he came to, hoping to grab a pastry or anything solid, to feed his mounting hunger.

The place was welcoming, a small sign in its window advertising an authentic English breakfast, and his stomach growled approval as he stepped inside. But his temporary joy at finding sustenance was quickly cut short. The moment he edged up to the counter, a familiar voice called out from somewhere behind him.

“Minach!”

His eyes narrowed in a wince before he pivoted to face the speaker.

“Caitlin,” he said, turning to greet the Wolf shifter, an artificial smile working its way over his features. He’d come looking for her, yes, but he wasn’t convinced that he could deal with her mood swings before ingesting a gallon of caffeine. “How are you this morning?”

She was seated at a table at the side of the café, a small cup of some steaming beverage in her hand. “Wonderful, now that I’m seeing you,” she said, her expression far too bubbly for a woman in mourning. “Come, sit with me. Mary will look after you.”

“Mary?” Minach replied, turning to see that the rosy-cheeked woman behind the counter was smiling at him and nodding. “Ah, Mary.”

“What can I get you?” the woman asked.

“Something solid and unhealthy, and a very large coffee. Thanks.”

He made his way towards Caitlin’s table, his body tense. Her eyes were glowing bright, her Wolf very near the surface. The beast was acting as a sort of protective sentinel again, a wall that stood between Minach and the human inside her. For a moment, empathy overtook him. He almost understood how the shifter felt. After all, he’d spent the bulk of his life concealed behind a rather protective Dragon. He understood what it was to hide behind one’s déor in order to quash feelings of sadness or trauma. He also understood the desire that Caitlin’s Wolf felt to find a companion, perhaps more now than ever before. Loneliness was a misfortune for humans, but for shifters it was a damned curse.

“There was a meeting this morning,” Caitlin chirped in a happy voice as he joined her, pulling up a chair on the other side of the table. “The pack got together down at Percival’s Cove.”

“Percival’s Cove?” he asked. “Where’s that?”

“Not far from Land’s End. A little ways east. I could show you later, if you’d like. We could walk down…or maybe I could ride your Dragon.”

Minach concealed a shudder. Whereas Amara was always welcome on his back—or on any part of him, for that matter—Caitlin wrapping her legs around him seemed far too intimate and very, very wrong.

“I think it would be nicer to walk,” he said. “Don’t you?”

A look of disappointment crossed her face. “I suppose. If you’d prefer.”

“I would,” he replied, a little too abruptly. Amara would have glared at him for his tone, but she wasn’t here, was she? “Now listen, what was the meeting about?”

“A bunch of things. Leadership. You. Me. Amara. The Dire Wolves.”

“All right, that was a lot of information. Please back up for a moment, and let’s begin at the end. What’s this about Dire Wolves?”

Caitlin sipped her drink, which, from the smell of things, was a cup of hot apple cider. “There’s a pack of shifters that lives up near Trekilling,” she said. “They’re the old breed of Wolves. They’re enormous.” For a moment her eyes seemed to glaze over, and Minach wasn’t sure if the look was one of admiration or fear.

“Is that…good?” he asked.

“Well, they’re impressive,” she replied. “They’ve been in the area for generations. Duncan didn’t much like them, and he told them to stay away from Perthewey. Said he didn’t want them moving about our territory.”

“And what do you think of them?” As Minach asked the question, Mary the café owner set down a cup of steaming coffee and a warm danish in front of him. “Thank you,” he said, throwing her a quick smile.

“I’m not sure,” said Caitlin. “All I know is that we have no defences against them, should they try something. Unless someone like you…”

“Yes?” Minach was grinding his jaw now, his patience failing him. Spit it out, woman.

“Unless someone like you helps us. That is, if you were to settle here…”

Here we go again. Fuck no.

He wanted to palm the bottom of the table, throw it across the room, to yell, “No damned way would I stay in this hellish place!” and storm out. But Caitlin was the Seeker, and throwing furniture or giant fits in her presence was probably a very, very bad idea. Must be nice, he told himself. Mustn’t rock the sodding boat until the Relic’s been recovered.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, smiling as sweetly as he could. “Now, I have more questions, of course, but I need to ask: have you given any more thought to the verse we talked about?”

“Not really,” she replied, stroking a hand over her belly. “The baby was kicking last night so I didn’t sleep all that well. He misses his daddy.”

Minach tensed at the words. He wanted to offer sympathy, to be kind as Amara would have done. He could almost hear her voice inside his mind, dictating his next move. Be nice. This is her Wolf talking, protecting her unborn child. Trying to make your protective Dragon take possession over her.

“Perhaps one day he’ll have a new daddy,” Minach said softly, though he had to fight every cynical instinct to force the words out.

“I hope so.” Caitlin reached across the table, taking his hand in hers and squeezing. “I hope that by the time he—or she—is born, a new daddy will be in place.”

“Oh—I didn’t mean…” Minach began, but he was interrupted by the tinkling of the café door’s bell as someone pushed it open behind him. A feeling of blissful warmth flooded his chest as his nose picked up a familiar scent. He turned to look, gratefully accepting any excuse to draw his eyes away from Caitlin’s.

“What have we here?” a booming male voice all but shouted. “Did I hear something about a new daddy? My, my, someone’s been hard at work.”

“Aegis!” Minach called out, spinning to draw himself to his feet. For the first time in his life, he wanted to give the big blond shifter a bear hug. “What the hell are you doing here?”