The Rescue
Greta glanced around, her eyes slow to adjust in the murky darkness of the cave. Honestly, it was more a recess in the cliff face than a proper cave, but at least it kept the rain out.
Her guide had vanished into some dark corner to do Lord knew what, and while that made her a little uneasy, it was a relief to no longer be subject to his golden stare.
She dropped her pack and started wringing the water out of her fleece, but she knew right away it wasn’t going to be enough. She was already starting to shiver as she examined the place. Aside from one flattish rock that seemed intended as a seat, there were no furnishings.
Ixoril faded in from the shadows so suddenly that she yelped in surprise.
His lips curled in an embarrassed smile that softened his entire face. “Sorry, I didn’t intend to give you a fright. Not used to having company.” He held out a pile of neatly folded clothes. “You can wear these until yours dry. They won’t fit, but they’ll keep you warm.”
“Where did you go?” She peered past him but didn’t see anything but rocks and darkness.
“There’s a narrow passage back into a deeper alcove.”
She focused on him again. “You live here?”
“I do.” He pushed the pile into her arms. “Get out of those wet clothes. Your body temperature is still dropping.”
She had to concentrate not to shiver. “How do you know that?”
He gestured toward his eyes. “I see in infrared.”
She stared up into his eerie gaze. The pieces finally clicked together. “You’re the Basilisk.”
Ixoril’s grin was sharp and fanged. “I am.”
She took an involuntary step backward and stumbled when she ran into the wall behind her. His muscular tail caught her arm and stopped her from falling. The tip of it trailed over her skin before moving away, making her shiver. “Are you going to eat me?”
He didn’t seem the least bit surprised by her question. “Despite the rumors, I’m unlikely to.” Again, that heart-stopping grin. “Unless you run.”
Her heart thudded in her chest with the nearly irresistible urge to do exactly that, turn tail and flee as hard and as fast as she could.
But he was a predatory species, one that thought the chase was part of the fun.
Lord, she was in trouble. But she knew how to deal with predators—she’d done it all her life.
He leaned closer, his big body crowding her, though he didn’t take a step in her direction. His nostrils flared. The noise he made in the back of his throat was birdlike and curious. “But you do smell delicious.”
She gathered her courage and shoved his shoulder. It was like trying to move a mountain. He didn’t budge, but his expression eased, as if she’d amused him. “Turn around so I can change.”
His lids lowered in a blink that seemed to take ages, but then he nodded. He turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. Her eyes scanned his muscular and well-formed back. His damp t-shirt clung to him, and his magnificent wings hung relaxed.
She kept watching him as she slid out of her wet clothes.
Her skin pebbled until she pulled the softest sweatshirt she’d ever touched over her head.
The back had two slits that were no doubt for his wings.
It hung to her knees, but it smelled amazing and was blessedly warm.
The shorts were just as ridiculous, coming down to the middle of her calves even with the tie waist cinched high.
“Where can I put these to dry?”
He glanced back over his shoulder, taking her in with a sweeping gaze. “I started a fire in the next room.” He held out a hand to her. When she hesitated, his lips quirked.
His smirk was infuriating enough that she stepped toward him, back straight, and took his hand.
His palm and fingers were warm as they wrapped around hers. An expression she couldn’t read crossed his face and vanished in an instant. “Such a brave little snack,” he murmured playfully as he bent to pick up her pack and then pulled her toward the back of the cave.
She ignored his taunting.
As he’d said, there was a passage in the furthest corner. Beyond, she could see the flicker of firelight. He had to slither, but she was much smaller than him and didn’t have quite as much difficulty. She made note of how long it took him to work his way through—just in case.
The room beyond was larger, with a hearth in the center and a pile of blankets that looked like a huge nest tucked against one wall.
The space was neat and tidy, very unlike what she’d expected to find back here, and the air smelled of woodsmoke.
Under that, there was another aroma, sweet and spicy.
She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was familiar.
If her circumstances had been different, Greta might have found the space cozy, but she couldn’t quite get over the fact that she was headed into a cave with a single way out and a very large, very dangerous man holding her hand.
Still, she didn’t pull away as he drew her further into the room. Did basilisks have some kind of hypnotic power? The question occurred much too late to make a difference, considering she was no longer as scared of him as she knew she should be.
When he gestured to a cushion next to the fire, she lowered herself to the ground and let the warmth soak into her. No, this didn’t feel like hypnosis. She wouldn’t be considering the danger of the situation if it were. This felt like calm. Relaxation. Safety.
He took her clothes and arranged them to dry on a rack near the hearth, not speaking until he was done, “Are you hungry?”
“Should I be asking you that?”
He let out an amused chuckle. “I already told you, I’m unlikely to try to eat you.”
“Would you really tell me if you were, though?”
He tilted his head as if her response surprised him. “I know Basilio told people I was responsible for many of the murders of paranormals in Las Vegas. But it’s not true. It never was. I am a predator, but my preferred prey is deer.”
Greta had no idea why she believed him, but she did. “I like venison too.”
His lips curled briefly, then he walked to one wall where some cast iron pans hung near a counter-high table. Without a word, he set to work.
With her arms wrapped around herself to try and warm up, she watched him as he chopped with his back to her. When she shifted in her seat, he cocked his head—seemingly aware of her every move—though he never turned around. She found she didn’t mind that as much as she should have.
After a while, he brought the pan to the fire and set it on a rack. Inside rested a combination of diced potatoes and what looked like sausage. Rather than sitting, he crossed to the pile of blankets and fished one out to bring back to her, placing it around her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she said, looking up at him.
“You’re welcome. Food should be ready in fifteen minutes.” He went back to tend his pan.
“You must not get a lot of company out this far.”
His glowing eyes met hers briefly. “None, really.”
“In that case, you seem remarkably relaxed about my intrusion into your territory.”
He frowned as he stirred the food that was starting to sizzle. “I am both extremely territorial and, in general, not very relaxed.”
She swallowed, gathering her courage again. “Should I be scared of you?
His eyes flicked to hers again, something in them uneasy. “Probably.” He let out a breath. “But I don’t want you to be.”
She couldn’t look away from his face. There was a vulnerability to his expression that drew her in despite her reservations. She ached to soothe him, even though that seemed much too forward, considering they were strangers. “That’s reassuring.”
Ixoril, however, didn’t look at all reassured. If anything, he seemed more concerned. He didn’t offer any further conversation as he finished preparing the food.
When he handed her a plate mounded high with mouth-watering hash, he asked, “Are you warm enough?”
She nodded. “Yes, thanks. I can get out of your way as soon as my clothes are dry.”
He clenched his teeth, his cheeks bulging, but once again, didn’t respond. He sat across from her with his own plate and tucked in.
They ate for several minutes in silence, until the weight of it started to get to Greta. “This is fabulous.”
His golden eyes scanned her face, as if gauging the truth of her words. “I’m glad you like it. If you’d said you were a vegetarian, I wouldn’t have had much to offer you.”
Greta laughed. “Far from it.” She put another forkful of the savory scrumptiousness in her mouth and chewed, humming happily.
He watched her eat for a few seconds, his smile warming. “It’s been a while since I’ve made food for anyone else. I’d forgotten how much I like seeing someone enjoy what I cooked for them.”
“You can cook for me any time.” She gestured with her fork. “This is fucking delicious.”
His back straightened, and he frowned again.
When he didn’t say anything, she asked, “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t.” He tilted his head back for a moment. “Your presence here doesn’t bother me at all. And it should. I’ve lived alone a long time. I should be counting the seconds until you’re gone, but somehow, I’m not.”
She didn’t respond, but waited for him to continue, because he clearly wasn’t done.
He let out a long sigh. “But when you said you’d be gone soon, it hurt.” He was heart-wrenchingly handsome in the flickering firelight, the hard planes of his face at odds with the softness she saw there.
“You’ve been lonely,” she finally said.
He growled. “Yes, but until you burst into my quiet life with all of that annoying…” he trailed off, waving his hand in her direction.
She utterly failed to restrain her smile. “Sass?”
“Fuck. Yes.” His shoulders shook with his laughter. “Exactly. Until you burst in here with all that sass, I didn’t realize how much.”
She put down her plate. “Okay, well, the good news is that you don’t have to stay out here anymore. Basilio is gone.”
He rolled his eyes. “Considering how terrified you were of me when you figured out what I am, do you think anyone will welcome me back?”
“It can be a slow thing, done in stages. Give people time to get used to you again.” She held her hands out to the fire. “Maybe cook for them. It sure worked for me.”
His gaze moved over her, and the ensuing surge of warmth had nothing to do with her proximity to the flames. He didn’t offer up what had put that scorching look on his face, so finally she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He seemed conflicted about providing her an answer and then shrugged. “Because every time you say you like my food, I want to rub myself all over you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She’d never been the type of witch who could tell when someone was lying, but she felt the truth of his words all the way to her bones.
Her magic fluttered under her skin. She was the type of witch that trusted her body and her gut—and right now, both were in complete agreement. “I really like your food.”