Karin stood in the storage room tucked behind the galley. Organizing food stocks they’d collected in Invercargill was a big job, but easier to do it now than once they were underway. She looked longingly at a series of raised beds and grow lights. She’d tried her hand at making use of them, but none of the seeds aboard Arkady had been viable after ten years. They’d helped the humans grow crops in Ushuaia, so maybe she’d be able to grow at least a few items here as well—if she could get hold of more seeds.

She made a mental note to make one more trip into town and hunt down a garden supply store. Those seeds might not have fared any better than the ones aboard the ship, but she wouldn’t know until she attempted to sprout them. Lettuce and spinach grew fast, and fresh vegetables would be a welcome addition to their canned and powdered diet. Not that she was complaining. Compared with what she’d survived on in Ushuaia, she’d eaten like a queen since coming aboard the ship.

“Interesting discussion across the hall,” her wolf said in a sly, enigmatic tone she recognized.

“Were you always a gossip?” Her words might be sharp, but she grinned indulgently. Not much got past her bondmate, and she was grateful for its vigilance.

“I watch out for us,” it countered. “Gossip is such a common word.”

Karin went back to lining up cans, tins, and pouches in cupboards.

“If you tarry, you’ll miss it.”

“I figured you’d give me the lowdown.”

“I could, but this is one time you’d be better served to be there yourself.”

Something about the wolf’s tone caught her attention. It rarely pushed her toward any action unless it was truly important. She straightened from where she’d been crouched in front of storage cabinets and shut them. Her hands were gritty, and she dusted the palms together as she made her way through the galley and then into the main dining room. It was empty, but her wolf had said across the hall, which must mean the other dining room.

When she got there, the four scientists from McMurdo were bent over steaming cups of coffee, chatting intently. They nodded at her and then returned to their conversation. The only other possibility on this deck was the lab, so she trotted toward it.

“Are you going to offer up any more clues?” she asked her wolf. It didn’t answer.

The door to the lab was shut, but it was often closed. She knocked briefly and walked inside. Recco and Daide sat across from one another, and the air fairly crackled with emotional residue. “Is this a private conversation,” she asked, “or can anyone join in?”

Recco smiled and stood. “We were pretty much done. I’ll be back later to straighten up my mess. Told Zoe I’d meet her about now.” He sauntered out of the lab whistling a catchy tune.

Karin stared at Daide. He exuded his usual heartbreakingly handsome charm in formfitting clothes that made his lanky, well-muscled body even more appealing. She shut down that line of thought fast. “I apologize if my appearance was ill-timed.” She stopped there, choosing not to mention her wolf’s prodding.

“No. It really wasn’t.”

“I don’t know. Your discussion looked pretty serious to me. Is everything all right with the whales and dolphins?”

“Recco finished with the last whale a little bit ago.” Daide got to his feet, but he seemed edgy. Not like himself at all.

She considered employing magic to read his thoughts, but decided to try to get to the bottom of whatever had alerted her wolf the old-fashioned way. With words. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?” Before he answered, she forged ahead. “Did you have a recurrence of the demon problem? If that happened, you should have come to me, not Recco. He’s a gifted healer, but his grasp of magic is still developing.”

“No recurrence.” He glanced her way and smiled, but it looked forced.

“If not that, then what?” She angled her head to one side, shuffling through possibilities.

Daide’s nostrils flared. For a moment, she would have bet money he was about to run out of the room, but he held his ground. “This is about me. And you as well.” He walked close enough to place a hand on her shoulder. “I care about you. More than I probably should. I know you’re involved with Leif—”

Shock waves hit her like a runaway train; she sent truckloads of thanks to her bondmate for making sure she was right where she needed to be. “Leif? Where did you ever get that idea?” Daide’s touch felt exquisite—warm and solid—and she leaned into it.

Passion laced with hope flared in the depths of his dark eyes. “So you and he aren’t a couple?”

“No.” Karin reeled in an inane desire to throw herself into Daide’s arms. His thinking she was involved with Leif was one hurdle, but they faced many more. She’d lived without a man in her life for more than a century. If that was going to change, she had to be damn sure it was the best thing—for both of them.

“Before you get any ideas, young man”—she stressed the young man part on purpose—“I’m old enough to be your great-great-great grandmother.”

“If it’s the only problem we have, we’ll be golden.” Daide wrapped his arms around her and brought his mouth down on hers.

She wanted to sputter they needed to work things out, carve out a path before they dove blindly down a black hole. Instead, she kissed him back. His lips were firm and demanding. Whiskers scratched the sides of her face, heightening her awareness of how male he was.

Strong hands kneaded her shoulders as he teased her mouth with tongue and teeth. He licked along the seam of her lips, and she opened to a quick tongue dart inside. Because it was so fast, she followed his tongue with her own, sparring with him, hoping he’d swipe back in again, and again. The comparison with intercourse was obvious and heat spiraled outward from her belly.

Sex had been a clinical experience for so long—release coming from her fingers when she was so desperate, she had to come so she could think—she wasn’t sure how to behave with a partner. His cock swelled. Long and thick, it pressed into her belly. She longed to touch him, wrap her fingers around that hardness and savor it, but she didn’t want to appear too forward. It was one of the downsides of being born two centuries before when social conventions were very different.

Breath clotted in her throat, and the world hazed over with desire. Her hips writhed against him, and she threaded her arms around his torso, splaying her hands across his muscled back.

He raised his mouth from hers, a soft smile playing about the edges of his chiseled lips as he moved a hand to cup the side of her face. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Karin wasn’t sure what to say. Should she admit she’d lusted after him? Would it make her look like a slut? Heat rose from her neck to the top of her head. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “’Fraid I’m terribly out of practice at this sort of thing.”

“We all are.” He caressed her cheek with a calloused thumb.

“Some of us way more than others.” She looked up and lost herself in his enticing dark eyes. “I wasn’t referring to the lost decade in Ushuaia. I’ve pretty much kept to myself for a long time.” She inhaled briskly to encourage her heart to beat a little more slowly. This was an opportunity for the serious conversation she’d sought before their kiss. Maybe not exactly the same thing since remnants of the kiss eddied between them, but close enough.

“That surprises me.” His voice was deep and sensual.

“It shouldn’t. Shifters only marry other Shifters. There weren’t any men who appealed to me, and after a while, casual affairs lost their zing. Easier to concentrate on medicine and keeping my skillset up to date. And on supporting the younger women. Rowana and I were kind of like den mothers.”

“You must miss her.”

“Oh, I do. Even more than everyone else. She and I were peers. We understood one another in ways the others don’t.”

He continued to stroke the side of her face and her neck, and he snugged the arm behind her back. “You know a lot about me. Tell me about you.”

Creeping unease pushed her to disentangle herself from his embrace. Intimacy meant sharing life histories, and she’d concealed anything personal for a long time.

He angled his head until his gaze caught hers. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. Of course not.” She twisted a chair around until it faced him, dragged another opposite it, and said, “Sit.” Shaking her head, she added, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound like a drill sergeant.”

“You didn’t. You sounded like yourself. No worries. I’m partial to self-assured women.”

She settled into one of the chairs and waited until he’d taken the other. “It’s hard to know where to begin, but I’m probably not the best choice for mate material. I’ve hidden behind being a doctor for a very long time. This probably doesn’t apply to vets, but doctoring people means I find out everything about them while disclosing nothing about myself. It will be a hard habit to break.”

“Do you want to?” His words thrummed with emotion.

“To be totally honest, I’m not certain. How I’ve operated has insulated me from being hurt. It’s also cut me off from joy, but I’ve considered it a quid pro quo.” She smiled crookedly. “It’s not that I’m not attracted to you. I am, but when you asked me to tell you about myself—and trading histories is something prospective lovers engage in—I didn’t exactly panic, but neither did I warm to opening the vault around my private self.”

“I’m a patient man. I can wait.”

A warm place bloomed deep within her, but she reached for rationality. It was where she lived. “I appreciate the thought—and the kiss. It’s been a long time since a man held me in his arms.”

“But?” He arched a dark brow.

“You’re quite perceptive because there is, indeed, a but.”

“The perceptive part comes from working with non-verbal patients. Come on. What roadblock were you about to toss between us?”

She blew out a breath. Was she being a fool? Or worse, a coward? Ignoring her indecisiveness, she soldiered on with what was in her mind. “You’d be so much better off with one of the younger women. They’d welcome you without reservations, be the partner you deserve—”

Reaching forward, he placed a hand over her mouth. “I don’t want them. It’s you I want. You that I long for. If I were attracted to them, we wouldn’t be sitting here. Want to know what I think?”

She angled a pointed glance his way. “I have a feeling you’ll tell me whether I say yes or not.”

“You’d be correct.” He moved his hand from her mouth to her knee and scooted his chair closer. Warmth from his touch ratcheted through her. “You’re a strong woman, Karin. Strong and used to being in control—of everything. Not that I’m much of an expert on relationships, but I’m pretty sure they’re about sharing power, or ceding power.” He shook his head. “I’m making a botch of this, maybe power has nothing to do with putting the other person’s needs first.”

“Each person giving a hundred ten percent has always been my assumption too, and it’s a tall order,” she murmured, never wanting him to stop touching her and conflicted as hell over her need.

“Don’t take this wrong, but I suspect you’re afraid. I convinced myself you and Leif were an item. It was easier for me to pine for a lost love interest than to put myself out there and risk being shot down. It’s what Recco and I were talking about when you walked into the lab.”

“What’d he think?”

“He convinced me I had to talk with you, that I’d never know for sure about you and Leif unless I asked.”

Karin placed a hand atop his. “You didn’t exactly ask. You told me you knew.”

Daide smiled softly. “I was having a hell of a time getting any words out. What I did worked. It’s all that matters.”

Karin turned over what he’d said. “It’s not that I’m afraid, or maybe I am in a backhanded way. I’ve carved out a niche for myself. It’s a comfort zone, and it’s filled with watching over my patients.” She swallowed hard. Now was a time for truth. “Sometimes, there’s not much left. Certainly not enough for a mate.”

“Even if that mate can share patient care—and worry—with you? I always practiced with Recco, and it was a relief to have a second brain and second set of eyes on the difficult cases. It also lessened the guilt when we lost patients.”

“I can see where it might work that way.”

“Were you always a healer? I’m guessing you were born in the 1800s. Women weren’t doctors then, at least not many.”

“Early part of the 1800s,” she confirmed.

“Where were you born?”

“Cumbria in northern England in a large, sprawling Shifter community. Magic wasn’t such an oddity back then, even though the Church called us abominations and occasionally went on a rampage when they hung a few magic-wielders to make a point.”

“Keep talking,” he urged. “It’s intriguing.”

She smothered a snort. “You’re smooth. I hadn’t planned to give up anything personal.”

“You haven’t said much. When did you become a doctor?”

“Officially? Because I’ve always manipulated magic to heal.”

“Yes. Officially.”

“I enrolled in medical school in the 1940s. They didn’t want to allow me in, but a wee bit of compulsion magic solved that problem.” She tilted her chin at a defiant angle. “The residency system wasn’t as entrenched as it is today, but I completed a fellowship in internal medicine.”

“I assume you practiced in Wyoming since it’s where your group was living before you headed for Ushuaia and the eclipse.”

“Yes. I’d been there for maybe twenty years.”

“Before that?”

She started to laugh. “You’re one determined man. A few more hours here—and about a hundred more questions—and you’ll have my entire history laid bare.”

“I want to know because I care about you.”

Karin wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. Caring was dangerous ground. She’d loved Rowana, but no magic in the world would have been enough to save her. Her Shifter companion and friend had died in her arms, and it still haunted her.

Part of her—a small part—wanted to tell Daide he was a sweetheart, but they had no future together. A much bigger part balked at such a Draconian approach.

“What are you thinking?”

“How do you know I’m thinking anything?” she countered.

“Because you get this little line”—he traced a fingertip vertically between her brows—“when you’re considering something.”

He’d apparently spent a lot of time watching her, and it both pleased and scared her. “I propose a compromise.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let’s work on getting to know one another, not as professionals—that part is already nailed down—but as people. I’ll do my best to not hide behind my carefully crafted persona.”

“You’re going to give us a chance.” He broke into a broad smile. “I’m elated.”

She didn’t know how to respond, so she nodded and muttered, “I hope to hell I don’t disappoint you.”

“How could you? You’re going to try, which is all anyone could ask.” His smile faded, and his tone grew serious. “I’ll never hurt you.”

Karin rolled her eyes. “All men say that.”

“Yes, but I’m not them. We won’t always agree because it’s not possible, but so long as we keep talking with one another, we’ll find common ground.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.”

Sincerity shone through his words. He meant them with every fiber of his being. Anxiety shot through her, tightening her gut into a knot. “I can’t be responsible for your happiness.”

“I’m not asking you to be.”

She tried to draw her hand away, but he laid his other one atop it, sandwiching hers between. “You’re like a skittish colt, ready to break and run the second something’s not right.”

“Figures you’d use an animal analogy.”

He nodded. “Sure. They’re what I know.” Bending forward, he brushed his lips across her forehead. “Maybe this is enough for now. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“Yes. I will. Speaking of which, I should get something started. It’s my turn to cook.” Feeling like an awkward teenager who’d just accepted her first date, Karin got to her feet.

Daide stood too and bowed slightly. It was a courtly, old world gesture that tugged at her heart. “Until then. Is there anything I can help with?”

She gazed into his bottomless eyes, encouraged and frightened by turns. “Maybe straighten up in here.” She swung an arm to encompass the lab where things sat out on tables and ledges. “I could use a spot of time by myself to process our conversation—and my feelings.”

“So long as you don’t process me out of your life, all will be well. See you at dinner. Say six thirty?” He turned and began sorting lab accoutrements.

Karin walked out of the room, feeling like she was floating and trying her damnedest to rein in her happiness.

“At least you didn’t tell him to get lost,” her wolf spoke up.

“I came close.”

“I know. I live here too.”

“How come you didn’t say anything?” She avoided the smaller dining room and angled for the one off the galley.

“Because it was important for you to listen to him.” The wolf whined softly. “In a lot of ways, I’ve filled the role a mate would. You and I are close, closer than many Shifters and bond animals. Before the Ushuaia years, when you still had choices, I wasn’t displeased when you chose to remain aloof. It meant more of your attention flowed my way.”

Karin trod through the dining room and shouldered into the galley, relieved it was empty. Rather than begin dinner, she leaned on a counter and focused inward. “Why tell me these things now? If it hadn’t been for your nudging, I’d never have known Daide and Recco were discussing me.”

“Because Shifters and bond animals were never meant to totally fill each other’s needs. I have the other animals. You’ve mainly had me—and Rowana. You asked why. Maybe my decision is rooted in Ro’s death. You need an emotional link to someone besides me.”

Tears pricked behind her lids. “I love you.”

“I know you do, and I love you just as much. We were a good choice for each other, but I want you to give Daide a chance. He’s a good man, and his coyote is coming along.”

Karin snorted and began dragging supper items out of the pantry. “Coming along, eh? You’re ancient. The coyote is very young. You might cut it some slack.”

“I am. If I wasn’t, I’d have punished it for misreading the sea dragon.”

“How would something like that work?” Karin kept her words casual as she covered dehydrated vegetables with water. She wanted to know more about the bond animals and their society. Long ago, mages had breached the borders of the animals’ special world. If they’d garnered knowledge of such things, it was long since lost.

Her wolf snarled and left; the place it dwelt within her echoed with its rapid egress.

“Fine. Be that way,” she told the air. Maybe the wolf could still hear her. Maybe not. Her eyes widened as an analogy smacked her in the gut. In many ways, her relationship with her patients had elements in common with Shifters and bondmates. The wolf knew everything about her, whereas her knowledge of it was patchy. She saw what it wanted to show her and not a jot more.

“Jesus. It took me two-and-a-half centuries to figure that one out,” she muttered. Covering parboiled rice with water, her thoughts turned to Daide. Why he wanted her was one of the mysteries, but truth had rung cleanly off his words and feelings. He was sure of himself. The question was if she could lay her ambivalence and uncertainties aside long enough to let herself care for him.

It was one thing to yearn for him while she lay alone in her bunk. Quite another to move from dreaming about the impossible to something real. A smile wanted out, and she understood she not only liked the idea, but she’d rise to meet the challenge.

She’d have to ask him why he’d assumed she and Leif were involved. It had to have something to do with when the sea Shifters had healed her, but how Daide had gotten from her nearly drowning to being spoken for would make for an interesting story.

Maybe she’d bring it up over dinner...

Yeah. Dinner.

She bent to her ingredients. If she didn’t get moving, no one would have anything to eat.