“What is taking them so long?” Gendra frowned at the door the three guys had gone through.
“Hopefully we won’t have to stage a rescue,” Zeph said, tossing back the last of her whiskey. Lena was nursing hers, as she was not a shapeshifter and lacked the hearty metabolism that kept them from getting drunk without serious effort. If Zeph’s story was true—and there was no reason for her to lie or exaggerate—that Rhyian had gotten drunk following his mother’s edict that he attend the party, then he’d had to work at it. Certainly said something about his feelings for her. As if he hadn’t demonstrated that clearly enough with the incident.
“I could go spy on them,” Zeph offered. “I have a bat form that would work. They’ll never see me.”
“Never mind them,” Stella said. “They can handle it, and their absence lets us talk. Lena, how are you feeling?”
“I’m having a great time,” Lena lied through her teeth. Being in the same room with Rhyian was sheer torture. He kept staring at her with intense, broody eyes over the rim of his goblet, like she wouldn’t notice. And he had yet to speak to her directly. She wished everyone could just get it through their heads that she and Rhyian did much better with a desert and a mountain range between them.
“You don’t have to stay if it’s too difficult for you,” Stella persisted.
“Yes, she does so have to stay,” Zeph insisted, sliding a long arm around Lena’s waist and hugging her like she meant to keep her from running.
Stella’s soulful eyes searched Lena’s face. “It’s painful for them, Zeph. Don’t be cruel. You weren’t there for the incident.”
Stella had been there. She’d been the one to sit with her while Lena cried—and to witness Lena’s vow that she’d never shed another tear over Rhyian. Stella had also promised never to tell anyone what had happened, and she never had. Not even Astar, unless she had told her twin and he’d kept it to himself, too, which was possible.
“No, I wasn’t there for whatever happened,” Zeph said, sharpening. “Isn’t it time you told us?”
“No,” said Lena decisively.
“It’s good to talk about these things,” Zeph persisted. “Isn’t that right, Gendra?”
Gendra’s indigo eyes widened, and she choked on her whiskey. “Leave me out of it. Rhy is my friend, too. Whatever terrible thing he did, I don’t want to know.”
“How do you know it was Rhy who was terrible?” Zeph demanded.
“Because he feels so guilty,” Gendra retorted.
“He does?” That surprised Lena. Rhyian had never demonstrated a hint of remorse. Quite the opposite. The way he’d smiled when she discovered him, sly and smug and shameless… She clenched her teeth to force the memory away.
Gendra met her gaze with sincere concern. “He does feel guilty, Lena. He’s never gotten over it, whatever happened between you. I’m not saying you have to forgive him, but at least talk to him.”
Just then, the doors to the salon opened, music and the roar of the party crowd spilling in, along with Astar in huge grizzly-bear form, Rhyian as a black bear beside him, both of them upright on hind legs as they rolled an enormous cask into the room. Jak followed them, red-faced, hair mussed, walking slowly and stiffly as he carried a stack of clothing.
The four women stared at the sight. “Do we even want to know?” Lena said into the silence.
The two bears wrestled the cask upright to stand on one end, then the black bear vanished, becoming Rhyian in his basic black pants and loose shirt, the simple outfit he’d drilled in since childhood so he wouldn’t return to human form naked. He met Lena’s gaze with a crooked grin. “Suffice to say that Jak is an idiot.”
“We knew that,” Lena replied lightly, excruciatingly aware that these were the first words she and Rhyian had exchanged in seven years.
Rhyian smirked, his eyes still on hers. “You have no idea. Once we get dressed, we’ll tell you the whole story.”
He snatched his clothes and boots from Jak, who scowled. “Hey! You promised you wouldn’t tell.”
“In your dreams,” Rhyian retorted, prowling to the other side of a high-backed sofa and stripping off his shirt. His leanly muscled chest and back gleamed golden in the light of the many candles, their glow lovingly caressing the planes and angles of his long, gorgeous body.
Astar had returned to human form, too, his clothes a basic white tunic and blue pants. He shook his golden head. “If you ladies would please turn around?”
“Of course,” Zeph replied sweetly. The four women fanned out for the best view, watching steadfastly and sipping their drinks.
Astar gave Stella a pleading look. “I’m your brother, for Moranu’s sake.”
“Rhy isn’t,” she pointed out placidly. “And the Tala don’t worry much about modesty.”
“Then why is Rhy hiding behind the sofa?” Astar retorted, stalking that way to join him.
Rhyian shook back his hair as he straightened—clearly naked now, though Lena couldn’t see past the sofa any lower than the carved bones of his narrow hips. He slanted the women a wicked grin. “I don’t want the sight of my glorious nudity to make them faint,” he said. “We have a lot of drinking yet to do. Witness that enormous cask we nearly killed ourselves to bring in here.”
“I’m the one with the strained back,” Jak muttered.
“Whose fault is that?” Rhyian shot back, bending to work the tight black velvet pants up his long legs. Was her mouth watering? Lena was definitely feeling warm. Astar was also swiftly changing clothes, but he was mostly a golden blur compared to Rhyian’s crisply dazzling darkness.
“Let me help your back,” Stella said, going to Jak. His crimson clothes bore wet patches and smears of mud. “Between my brother and my cousin, it’s true that the show doesn’t do much for me.”
Jak blew her a soft kiss. “You are a true friend, Nilly. Marry me and be my love forever.”
Stella blushed lightly. “Don’t tease, Jak.”
“I feel I should point out that I’m not blood-related to anyone here,” Zeph announced.
“Me neither,” Gendra put in, with unusual boldness for her. The two toasted each other.
“Not that it matters,” Lena put in with some irritation, finally managing to wrench her gaze from Rhyian’s brilliant masculine beauty, “as none of us are here tonight for sex.”
They all turned and looked at her, even Astar, who’d just poked his head through the opening of his shirt. Zeph snorted, unapologetic gaze fastened on Astar’s bare abdomen. “Speak for yourself, Lena,” she purred.
Astar yanked his shirt down and pulled on his powder-blue velvet coat. “Lena is right. Tonight is for celebrating our enduring friendships, not indulging in lustful flirtation.”
“You were the ones putting on the naked man show,” Zeph pointed out.
“Out of necessity,” Astar replied tersely, then glared at Jak, who held his hands up in innocence—the gesture completely ruined by his roguish smile. Apparently restored to his usual agile fettle, he returned to busying himself with tapping the cask.
“I, for one,” Rhyian put in, gaze lingering on Lena as he pulled on his glossy boots, “would be perfectly willing to be a gentleman and entertain some turnabout, if the ladies care to put on a show for us.”
“Hear, hear!” Jak toasted with a goblet freshly filled with mjed, dark eyes going to Stella.
“Absolutely not,” Astar nearly growled, glaring at both Rhy and Jak as he fastidiously buttoned up his jacket. He leveled the glare on Stella, who blinked in surprise. “You’re keeping your clothes on.”
She made a face at him. “Sheesh, Willy—I grew out of that phase by the time I was five.”
“Six,” he corrected.
“Don’t be such a prude, Willy,” Rhyian agreed with a sly smile, prowling over to swipe two of the elegant glasses from the table by the fire, taking them to Jak to fill with mjed. “I miss the days when Nilly ran naked through the halls, sending the fancy mossback ladies into palpitations.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” Jak said warmly, winking at Stella.
She rolled her eyes. “I was a child.”
“One who hated having to return to human form dressed,” Rhyian said. “It’s natural—nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Stella replied, lifting her chin.
“Good for you,” Rhyian murmured with a smile.
Astar, once again more or less perfectly attired, cleared his throat. “Let’s try this again. If everyone would fill their glasses and gather around the table, please.”
Lena moved to get a glass, but Rhyian intercepted her with smooth grace and shapeshifter speed. She managed not to gasp at the sight of him suddenly in front of her, so lethally gorgeous, his hair no longer sleeked back, but tumbling wildly around his face. He held out one of the glasses. “This one is for you, Salena.” When she hesitated—more out of sheer surprise than anything—his lips quirked in a half smile. “Unless you refuse to accept even this much from me.”
Stung, she plucked the glass from his fingers, being careful not to touch him. “That’s unfair. I never refused you. Anything,” she added with a hiss, which she immediately regretted.
He didn’t take the easy opening, however, instead regarding her seriously. Surely that wasn’t regret in his deep blue eyes. “You refused to talk to me.”
Her stomach dropped and her head swam. Oh no. This was exactly the confrontation she hadn’t wanted. She’d begun to relax, believing that he didn’t want to revisit the bad old days either. “I did not. You weren’t exactly available for conversation,” she replied coolly, congratulating herself for her poise. “Besides, there was nothing to discuss. You made yourself very clear through your actions.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But you left before we could sort it out.”
“You didn’t exactly chase after me,” she bit out, then kicked herself. Gah. Why was she still talking?
Rhyian was searching her face. “Was I supposed to chase after you? I didn’t know I’d made that mistake.”
“You made a lot of mistakes, Rhyian.” The bitter heartbreak of that time felt excruciatingly fresh and raw. “We both did.”
“Salena, I…” He trailed off, pressing his lips together. Those lips that had caressed her skin with such intimate delight. She’d once thought she’d give anything to have those lips on her—and then she’d given too much.
“We were young,” she said, gentling the old bitterness. She didn’t—couldn’t—forgive him, but it had been a long time ago. “We didn’t know what we were doing.”
He dipped his chin ruefully, his gaze catching on her bosom, then rising to meet hers, the blue fulgent with desire she remembered all too well, lips curved in a sensual smile. “We did some things right.”
She couldn’t help an answering smile. That summer had been the best of her life, regardless of how painfully it had ended. “We did,” she conceded.
Rhyian gave her a more serious look. “Could we—”
“Are you two joining us or what?” Astar called out, then grunted as if in pain.
“Shut up,” Zeph chastised the hunched Astar, who’d apparently taken a sharp elbow to the gut. “Are you completely oblivious, you oaf?”
Gendra and Stella gave Lena rueful smiles, while Jak tossed off a little salute from where he leaned against the fireplace. Lena’s face heated with embarrassment. She’d been so intent on Rhyian that she’d forgotten about their audience. “Don’t be silly,” she said brightly. “We were being rude.” She moved to join their waiting friends, but Rhyian caught her hand.
His fingers lightly tangled with hers, his touch scalding, bringing back so many memories. Rhyian holding her hand as they walked on the beach at Annfwn. The first time he kissed her sensitive fingertips, his eyes heated as he savored her shivering response. When he laced their fingers together on either side of her head as he lay against her… She couldn’t breathe. “Rhyian…” she said helplessly.
“Dance with me later,” he said with dark intensity. “Please.”
Rhyian never said please or thank you. At least, the Rhyian she’d known hadn’t. He’d disdained mossback manners, along with rules of all kinds, and she’d once found that exciting about him. She’d also suffered because of it. Extracting her fingers, she folded them into her palm, where they burned with longing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t get why you’re all so upset with me,” Astar’s voice rose in the background, Stella and Zeph hushing him.
Rhyian’s gaze didn’t even flicker in their direction. They held hers fast, the blue drowning deep in his wildly beautiful face. “One dance. Isn’t it a night for letting go of the past, for new beginnings?”
“So I’ve been informed,” she answered drily. “Repeatedly.” Her little sister, Bethany, had babbled on at length on how the crystalline moon made it the perfect night for falling in love. Well, Lena had fallen in love once and still had the bruises to show for that brutal fall. Never again. Certainly not with Rhyian, who’d been the one to shove her off the cliff.
“One chance is all I ask,” he said with hushed intensity. “Just for tonight. Can we pretend to be friends again?”
“It would still be a pretense,” she warned, absurdly tempted to say yes. But then Rhyian had always been able to tempt her into going against her better judgment.
He smiled, slight and more than a little wicked, as if he knew the effect he had on her. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”
“One dance,” she breathed. It didn’t have to be about love or the past. Just friends. And in the morning she’d be gone, back to her desert and her work, where he’d never follow.
“One dance—with potential for more,” he qualified, smile widening.
And there he was, the old Rhyian in fine style, teasing and pushing for just a little bit more than she wanted to give. Well, she’d learned her lesson. She hoped. “We’ll see,” she replied loftily, and turned her back on him.