Chapter Twenty

Kal

 

When we got back to the house, I was more relaxed than I had been in a long time. Which was strange, given the fact that Iris had snapped at me and still didn’t seem to have completely forgiven me. Inside, I stole glance after glance at her. Heavy wet curls dripping down, flushed cheeks, and sparkling brown eyes. That small, amused smile hovering around her lips interchanging with the crease between her eyebrows.

“Take the first shower,” I said and took her dripping bag from her. “Let all this dry.”

“Okay,” she said and peeled off her jacket.

Quickly I averted my eyes, not having failed to notice how her shirt was sticking to her and revealing the curves of her body. Especially of her breasts and hips. My skin was growing hot and itchy, the predator at my core clawing and roaring, trying to shake off the layers of ice above.

Even after a long and trying day, Iris was radiant.

“I’ll be quick,” Iris said.

“No, take your time,” I said. “I’m going to dry off, change, and eat. No shower needed.”

“Thanks,” Iris said and began to make her way upstairs, then stopped. “You’re not coming?”

“I am.” The words sounded hoarse, and I shook myself, fibbing, “Trying to get this jacket off.”

“Oh, let me help,” Iris said and hopped back down, coming over. Her deft fingers plucked at the material and helped me shrug it off. “Not so bad. We’re gonna need a lot of towels down here.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I said and plucked at the material sticking to me. It was a thin shirt, and I was sure you could practically see my scars through it. “Get going.”

Iris didn’t say anything. I’d been trying not to look at her, but I did now. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, and her expression dazed. What the hell was wrong with her? A memory flashed into my mind. The first time we’d met, she wouldn’t stop staring. What a goofy woman.

“What the hell are you staring at?” I barked, discomfited and amused at the same time.

To my surprise, Iris reached out and poked my pec. “What do you do to get muscles like this?” I looked down at her hand, then at her, and Iris snatched her hand back, going a shade of red I had never seen on another human, only tomatoes. “I’m so sorry.”

She was admiring me. A laugh escaped, and I put a hand to my face as a burning, but pleasant, tingle worked its way up from my chest into my throat. “Iris. Go take a shower.”

“Right,” she said and scampered away.

I waited a minute, my hand falling and rubbing my chest. This was why I’d kept my guard up around her and avoided her. Iris was too damn good at dismantling walls as though they were never there. Part of me almost wanted to let her through, to see what would happen when she got to the ice.

I imagined one slender finger poking it and cracking it, and everything melting away.

For a moment, it was so tantalizing, I found myself taking the steps two at a time and eyeing the bathroom door. I always, always wore the armor of a protector. Lived under the ice.

If the predator broke free, I wasn’t sure I’d recognize myself. Even though I knew, logically, it was a part of me I’d locked away. Sometimes it made me so numb, I said shit without even realizing how it came off. Or didn’t say anything at all.

At that moment, I knew if I saw Iris—if she acknowledged the leap of heat between us that I’d spent weeks barely holding off—it would be over.

Or if she knew the truth, instead of the fib I’d told her earlier.

I hadn’t been coming to check on her. I’d been coming to get her because something had tugged at me and said she was in trouble. Something I couldn’t ignore.

An instinct I’d felt dimly a month or so ago when she’d been at the auction.

Another reason I’d been avoiding her. I could sense the weight and uncertainty hovering around her as she worked, the worry about this situation and me.

Worse, I could see it on her face.

The shower turned on, and I silently spun away, angry at myself. Both for wanting to give in and for walking away. But it shouldn’t be like that. A stolen moment buoyed by insanity and desire.

For right now, nothing was certain. There was still a chance Iris wasn’t…

Shoving that all away, I dried off, got dressed, and went downstairs. If I let myself dwell on any of that, I’d spiral down and hurt her again. For now, I would try to be a friend and as good a fake mate as I could be. That way, Versk would keep his hands to himself, and Iris wouldn’t have to walk around on eggshells.

Yet underneath everything, I couldn’t repress the little glimmers of joy I stole from our interactions. The stupid things that made me want to smile.

Like Iris glaring at me in the rain and telling me off, her eyes filled with fire. It made me happy to see her take a stand like that. Better yet, she wasn’t indifferent or done with me. If there was passion, she still cared. It wasn’t fair to her, but it filled me with heady relief.

Or Iris gripping my shirt, then smirking to herself as I flailed around, for a change.

Never mind the way she’d regarded me in the hallway earlier. That passion again, a hungry one, too. Probably woken up under her anger. It took a lot of self-restraint not to smile or even allow myself to think about how I’d indulge it.

Delicious and beautiful little honeycomb.

 Something akin to a groan slipped free of me, and I spun around to make sure Iris wasn’t in the kitchen. She wasn’t.

Glancing at the time, I was surprised she wasn’t down here and harassing me for food. The shower was off, but Iris was still in her room. Quietly, I crept upstairs and listened at her door.

Light snoring came from within. Cracking it open, I saw Iris had fallen asleep on top of the covers. She was wearing a thick bathrobe, and her hair was clumsily braided in one loose plait. Slipping inside, I pulled back the covers and lifted her in one fluid movement under them. Iris didn’t stir once. She must have been exhausted.

“Night, honeycomb,” I murmured and tucked her in, before leaving and hitting the light.

We could talk tomorrow.

 

Hours before dawn, I woke up, hands reaching out for a gun and straining for a sound of attack from the quiet desert. Chest heaving, sweat pouring down my face, it took a few moments for me to realize that that world was a memory. I wasn’t in a tent in the middle of a war.

I was in Winfyre, and it was in danger.

In moments, I was dressed and rushing downstairs. While yanking on my boots, my eyes went to the kitchen, and my fingers slipped. There, on the counter, was the vase of flowers I’d left Iris. Quickly, I finished getting my boots on and flew in, scribbling down a note, then leaving it under the flowers. They were still full and blooming, even weeks later.

She’ll be safe here, I told myself, even as I hesitated. Some part of me wanted to wake her up and tell her to go to Luke’s. He was closest, and I was sure he’d have shifters hanging around the house to watch over Reagan and Caleb. But at the same time, I didn’t have time. Xander had already gone to the border, and my brothers were well on their way. For once, I wasn’t first.

Jotting down a P.S. to go and see Reagan if she got lonely, I forced myself to leave.

The cold air slipped deeply into my lungs as I raced toward the border, every instinct roaring and the night sky pressing down. I hadn’t felt a rush of alarm like this in years, and it shook me, waking me up and rattling my old fears. I’d thought I hadn’t let the peace of the territories get to me.

I was wrong.

Charging up the hill like a bull, I almost knocked over Jeques as I came in, and he held up a hand, steadying me as I shifted back. “Easy,” he said in his warm voice, but his eyes were hard and cold. Taking in every detail. “You haven’t missed the fun.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, breathing hard, and Fallon came over.

There was a circle of Northbane shifters prowling around, some holding up the bright white lights that Finch had fashioned for us. Powered by derenium and firsase crystals, they weren’t often used. That’s when I saw the broad shoulders of Niles as he looked over three men.

They were all restrained, kneeling on the ground, and shifters were fanned out around them. As I moved closer, my stomach knotted and twisted into my throat. Every man had been trussed from head to toe. Xander was standing in front of them, face impassive and arms folded. Tristan was standing off to the side, talking to Rett, and both of them looked uneasy. Luke was pacing on the other side, his mind going a mile a minute, and I held out a hand, stopping him. The look he gave me confirmed all my worst fears.

“I know Lind is still alive,” Luke said, naming the ex-fiancée who’d handed his father over to the Stasis Bureau. The bastards had killed the old man and left him outside his own house so Luke could find the body. Anger snapped up my spine at the mere mention of her name. “She sent them. Even left us a note to find.”

I didn't know what to say. But I thought maybe Iris would.

“All the more reason to hold steady, Swift,” I finally got out. “We’ve been through worse.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to go through it again.”

“Buck up, soldier,” I said under my breath. “I’m sure everyone is freaked out. While I appreciate your mind working and planning, worrying is going to tear us apart. Step aside if you must, but calm the hell down. And make sure those two idiots do, too.” I jerked my head at Tristan and Rett. “Winfyre needs us to be calm and collected in the face of this.”

Luke nodded and took a deep breath, snapping out of it. “You’re right.” He gripped my shoulder, and we exchanged a wordless nod as he went over to Rett and Tristan.

I walked up to Xander, who was watching as one man twitched against his ropes and snarled around his gag. We never tied up shifters like this. But these men were corrupted.

“Seems Orion found out another way to give us nightmares,” Xander said. “He made it real.”

Bloodlust.