“Spend the night with me.”
She hesitated. “Will I be safe?”
“From me? Not in the least.”
She laughed. He liked that he could make her laugh so readily. He suspected she’d not had much cause for joy in her past life.
“But I will keep you safe from the rest of the world,” he promised, because he knew she needed to hear the words. Like him, she was running from her past. The difference, he suspected, was that her past wasn’t dead. It could find her. And that terrified her.
After doing his best to reassure her that he could care less if they ever had sex missionary style, he had stepped out of the shower, quickly dried himself, and left the bathroom, leaving her to do her after shower routine alone, while he rushed to his dresser, pulled out an undershirt and slipped it over his head.
By the time she opened the door and walked into the bedroom, he wore a pair of lounge pants and the shirt, and held two glasses of wine in his hands. She took one of the glasses, sipped, and then he watched as the tension drained from her shoulders. They had walked out into the living room, but before they could sit down on the couch, he’d asked her to stay. And then he abruptly pulled her into his arms, squeezed her tightly for a moment before letting her go.
“What was that for?” she asked, stepping out of his embrace, canting her head to the side, and giving him a curious look.
“I promise, you’re safe with me.” He meant it. He would kill anyone who threatened her. Anyone.
He sat on the couch and pulled her down next to him, so close she was practically in his lap. She curled up against his side, tucking her feet underneath her. Her eyes already looked tired. He was willing to bet she’d be asleep before she finished that glass of wine.
“Why do you work evenings?” he asked. “Given your need for sunlight, I would think you would work in one of those restaurants that only serve breakfast and lunch.”
“I wouldn’t be able to express my culinary creativity nearly as much as I can where I work now. When I cooked for the king, I always had carte blanche, and until Tanner took over, an endless budget too.”
His entire body tensed. “Tanner took over?” he repeated. “Tanner Lyons?” While Carley had previously confirmed that Tanner was mated to the lightbearers’ princess, she had not mentioned that meant he had actually become pack master.
A shifter, pack master over a coterie full of lightbearers?
“Well, the king is still the figurehead, but everyone knows Tanner runs the show now.”
“What sort of leader is he?” Reid had often wondered how different the son was from the father.
“A good one,” Carley confirmed, yawning widely. “The king had overspent the royal coffers, and Tanner managed to get us back into solid financial shape, within just a few months. One of the things he did was reduce the queen’s parties to once a quarter, instead of once or twice a week.”
She spoke with her eyes closed. Her voice was low and slurred with impending sleep. Reid wanted to ask her more questions about the coterie and Tanner. He had been so long with no communication with any other shifters.
He gently tugged the wineglass out of her hand and placed it on the coffee table. She snuggled into the crook of his arm. The corners of her mouth lifted into a sleepy smile. “You can take advantage of me again if you want.”
“I think I can wait,” he said drily. “I prefer my women to be active participants in the bedroom.”
“I prefer you in the bedroom,” was her mumbled reply.
He chuckled. “Glad to hear it.” He slid off the couch, pulling her into his arms, and carried her to the bed. “I’d like it if you slept naked, though.”
She didn’t open her eyes, but her lips lifted again. He laid her on the bed and quickly divested her of her clothing. After a moment’s hesitation, he shed his pants, and his shirt. Then he climbed into the bed, crowding her, wrapping his body around her much smaller form. She turned to him, her arm snaking around his waist, as she nuzzled his chest. Within seconds, her breathing became steady and rhythmic. She was asleep.
He had so many questions about the coterie, about Tanner, about the life she’d left behind. He hadn’t realized how much he truly did crave interaction with his own kind, until she came into his life.
Unfortunately, his questions would have to wait.
*
When the first ray of light splashed onto the bed, Carley stirred. She rolled over, so that she was half lying on top of Reid, and threw her leg over his hips. He came awake while she fondled his fast-rising manhood.
“Good morning,” she said impishly.
“It certainly is,” he agreed, and he pulled her on top of him, and proceeded to demonstrate the thrills of morning sex.
They both nodded off again afterward, sleeping like spoons, with Reid’s bigger, warmer body wrapped around Carley’s smaller one. When she woke a few hours later, Reid was still sound asleep. Careful, so as not to disturb him, she slid out from under his arm and padded to the bathroom.
When she returned, he was lying on his stomach, sprawled on the bed, still sleeping. When her gaze fell upon the scars zigzagged across his back, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. He shot awake and rolled onto his back, looking up at her. She stood next to the bed, her eyes wide as saucers.
“What?” There was accusation in that word, as if she’d done something wrong.
“Your back,” she whispered.
He scowled. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”
She sank down on the edge of the bed. “I suspected something terrible had caused you to leave your pack, but I had no idea…”
“It’s not exactly something I like to talk about.”
“That’s why you didn’t take your shirt off last night.”
He didn’t reply.
“Will you tell me?”
“No,” he said shortly, and then he reached over the side of the bed, snagged his shirt from the floor, and pulled it over his head.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he muttered as he climbed out of bed and pulled on the lounge pants he’d discarded last night. “You didn’t do it.” He walked into the bathroom.
A moment later, she heard the sound of running water, indicating he’d turned on the shower. She wanted to join him, but she wasn’t sure he would welcome her. She had no idea how to deal with something like this. She’d always been the one with issues. Everyone else had always seemed so…normal, without any sort of horribly checkered past.
She pulled on her clothes and left the bedroom. When Reid walked into the kitchen a short time later, she was pulling an omelet off the stove.
“Steak and cheese,” she said as she slid a plate across the kitchen island. “For you.”
“Thanks,” he said as he sat down and dug in. “It’s good.”
“Thank you.”
They ate in silence for a short while. Carley tried to gauge Reid’s mood, tried to determine if he was angry with her.
“Stop,” he finally muttered.
“What?”
“Stop overthinking it. It’s something from my past. I’ve let it go, and you should too.”
“I…” It seemed obvious to her that he had not let it go. She did not want to, either. She wanted to know what happened. She wanted to know if she could help him deal with it and then truly let it go.
“I’m usually much more careful about letting anyone see my back.”
“I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to let me see the scars.”
“I’m not at all comfortable letting you see them,” he said sharply. After a pause, he said, “I think I was just comfortable enough sleeping with you that I wasn’t conscious of what I was doing.”
She smiled. And decided to let it go after all, at least for now. She liked getting along with Reid far too much to press about something that he clearly was not ready to deal with.
“I like that,” she said.
After breakfast, they cleaned the kitchen together, and then Reid rearranged his living room—much to Carley’s giggling delight—so his furniture was positioned to catch the most possible sunlight streaming in through the patio doors.
“It’s a good thing I live on the top floor,” he commented as they cuddled together on the couch. “I would have a hard time leaving all the blinds open if I thought someone else could see you walking around naked all the time.”
“I’m not naked,” Carley pointed out.
“Do you want to be?”
His question was flip, but she turned around and climbed into his lap. “Yes,” she said breathlessly as she tugged off her shirt.
“I think I’ve created a monster.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Nope.”
He lay down on the couch on his back. Carley found she had a real fondness for the woman-on-top position.
*
Afterward, they lounged on the couch, basking in the flood of sunshine pouring through the windows. Reid was on his back, with Carley lying on top of him, her chin resting on one hand, while the other used her magic to draw designs on the shirt covering his chest. The designs glowed and sparkled like glitter for a few moments, before fading away. He watched, fascinated.
“I bet it’s awfully handy to have so much magic,” he remarked after she’d drawn a swan and a wolf and then convinced the swan to chase the wolf down to his abs and up the back of the couch.
“You have the ability to change forms at will,” she replied.
“Yeah, but that’s it. Your magic manifests in so many other ways.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s just a part of who I am. What I am. I don’t know any different.” She drew a series of hearts. “We really can share our magic, you know,” she whispered, without looking at his face.
He didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to respond. Despite having grown up under Quentin Lyons’ influence, Reid had never once believed the man’s theory about stealing a lightbearer’s magic.
“Killing us doesn’t do it, so relax,” she teased. “All killing does is, well, kill us. But our magic, we can decide to share it. Or, what seems more likely, is that we inadvertently share it. That’s how I understand it happened with Olivia. And Cecilia.”
“Olivia and Cecilia?”
She continued to trace patterns onto his shirt. Despite the fact that they’d just had vigorous sex a short time ago, the touch of her finger, the feel of her magic, was making him hard again.
“Olivia is our princess. She’s mated to Tanner, who once was the heir to a pack of shifters from somewhere out west. Wyoming, I believe.”
“I’m aware of them,” Reid commented drily. Obviously she did not recall their conversation last night, when he’d asked her about his former pack master’s son.
“Cecilia is her cousin. She is actually my cousin as well, although it’s more distant, and we are not nearly as close as she and Olivia. Anyway, Olivia shares her magic with Tanner. Which makes sense, as he is her mate. We now understand that usually, when we mate, we share our magic with each other, although no one really noticed before, because we all have magic anyway.”
“Interesting theory.”
Carley frowned. “But Cecilia shares her magic with Finn, too. I’ve seen it. And they aren’t mated, at least, they weren’t before I—”
“Finn?” he interrupted, his lust-coated brain finally catching up with her words.
His brother’s name was Finn. The last time Reid saw him, Finn had been leading yet another one of Quentin’s missions to seek out the lightbearers. It had been Quentin’s last mission. The pack master had been killed, and Reid had assumed his brother had died, too. As soon as word came back that the pack master was dead, he’d grabbed the bag he’d had packed since shortly after the incident, and he left. He hadn’t spoken to a single shifter from his former pack since. That was nine months ago.
“Finn?” he repeated.
Carley was oblivious to his sudden tension. She continued to trace patterns on his chest, but his body no longer reacted to the pleasurable sensation. Suddenly, he just wanted to know. Was his brother alive?
“They weren’t mated when I left,” Carley explained. “And yet, he shared Cecilia’s magic. It was obvious they were in love. At least, it was to everyone except them.” She giggled. “I think they were both in denial, even after they started sleeping together.”
Finn? His brother was not only alive, but…in love? With a lightbearer? Although this ought not to surprise him, given that Reid was currently lying on the couch, swathed in a pool of sunlight, the world’s most beautiful lightbearer draped across his body.
“What does he look like?”
“Who?”
“Finn,” he snapped impatiently.
Confusion crawled across her face, as she finally looked up at him and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Tell me what Finn looks like.”
She studied his face, his features. Something else bloomed on her face. Something like…
“Actually…he looks a lot like you.”