Chapter 11
Eleven
An hour later, we had made it back down the mountain. It was late, and I should get home, and I was about to say just that when Fieran looked at me and said, “Have a drink with us before you go home. And some cake.”
I hesitated, but I needed to know if he knew my secret.
And I had some pretty powerful feelings about cake, too.
“You won’t be able to sleep anyway,” he added, and I was sure he meant because I knew he knew my secret, and then he added, “Adrenaline.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said.
In the lodging house, Louisa had already gone to bed, but there were cold meats and cheese, fresh bread and fruit, and a table spread with desserts. My mouth began to water.
Fieran prepared his food at the side table while Maura eyed me curiously, pouring spiced wine. “How much do mortals drink?”
“No one, mortal or Fae, drinks as much as you,” Dairen said, taking the bottle out of her hand.
She gave him a sharp smile back and raised another bottle to clink against the one he’d just taken. “Certain to be true tonight.”
Nixi rolled her eyes.
Fieran set a plate in front of me as he set his own down, taking his seat. I glanced up at him, perplexed.
Nixi clicked her tongue. “You’re going to confuse the mortal about the way the world works. Shifters serving? And a pr—”
“Enough,” Ander cut Nixi off.
Fieran had raised his gaze to Nixi’s, full of warning, but since Ander had spoken, he just turned to me.
“Eat something,” Fieran said, pushing the plate toward me. “Especially if Maura is going to try to get you to drink with her.”
“I’ll be careful with the tender mortal,” Maura promised, which felt very much like a promise to do the opposite.
I picked up the sandwich Fieran had made, and suddenly I was starving. It had been a long night.
“So, tell us this story.” Ander didn’t look at me; he was fixed on Fieran. “How did the mortal save you tonight?”
Fieran launched into a very dramatic—and unapologetically embellished—account of how I had apparently saved his life with my clever heroics.
I arched my brows at the tale, and so did Maura, sitting across from me.
Anayla said, “Well, thank you for looking after his life. He does a poor job valuing it himself, and we need him.”
“And how did you find this enterprising mortal?” Ander leaned back in his chair, one arm slung over the chair back. He hadn’t looked my way all night. It was strange.
“She fought off the wyrms all on her own,” Fieran began, clearly ready to tell that tale again too.
“Wyrms?” I asked. “Plural, now?”
Analyn grinned, amused. But no one stopped Fieran from telling the story yet again; I wasn’t sure anyone could have.
Fieran came across as brash and cocky, but he seemed to brag about my exploits more than his own. My cheeks heated as he quoted quips from me that were the kind of thing I came up with in the middle of a sleepless night rather than on the spot.
I sank down in my chair and decided to distract myself with the potted chocolate cream and berries on the table, but I couldn’t help smiling around the spoon at the praise in Fieran’s voice.
Ander finally looked at me, and I felt an unexpected jolt as his gaze met mine.
“Yes, she’s astonishing,” Maura deadpanned when Fieran wound up the tale. “Might we discuss the logistics of tomorrow before we separate for the night?”
“Of course,” Fieran said, and the two clans launched into a discussion of the next day’s efforts that I barely understood, with talk of wardstones and navigating the cave system to ensure there were no unattended rips.
I yawned, listening to their discussion, their banter, their plans for another death-defying day in the morning.
There was no point in me being here. There never really had been one.
“I should go,” I said.
“I’ll walk you home,” Fieran said.
“There’s no need,” I told him. “I know I don’t have to worry about more monsters escaping tonight. I’ve walked home at night for years without you.”
Anayla’s lips formed a little O over her wine, as she traded a look with Maura. I hadn’t meant to insult him.
“You have work to do.” It was time to go. I felt a wistful urge to belong, but I never would. Lingering would only hurt.
If the shifters had seen my mark, would they even let me go? I should be running away. That would be wise. So why did I finger the stem of my wineglass, lingering as if I were waiting for something. I stood, the movement feeling sudden and abrupt.
Fieran was on his feet too.
“She’s right,” Maura told him firmly. “You don’t know what it was like down there. It’s a massive system of caves.”
“All right,” Fieran agreed. “We’ll plan tomorrow’s work.”
But still, as I crossed the worn wooden floorboards, he followed me.
He swung open the oak door before I could, letting in the soft night air.
I stepped outside, feeling a tingle at the back of my neck that had to be my imagination.
I hurried down the steps, tugging the fabric at my throat again to be sure my neck was hidden.
He held out the cloak. “You can keep it.”
“Don’t you need it?” I still gripped the collar of his tunic in a white-knuckled grip that was not normal. “I’m wearing your shirt.”
“I have others,” he promised.
“He just chooses not to wear them!” Maura called. “He knows he looks far more admirable without one!”
He smiled faintly and stepped down from the doorway, closing the door behind him. Their voices and laughter faded, though the warmth of the scene inside still spilled through the windows.
The air outside felt hushed, though. Suspended. A soft rain had begun to fall, but it was more of a mist that kissed my hair and skin. The air smelled of ozone and smoke, and Fieran was coming down the steps of the inn toward me.
He would set the last traps for the rip in the morning.
There was no reason for me to go with them.
I’d heard about the caves, especially last year when a child had entered through a passage near the village and gotten lost. But I was no expert.
I’d served ale to the searchers and overheard their stories.
After tonight, I’d never see Fieran again.
I should take my last chance to kiss a dragon shifter.
To be as close as I ever would be to the destiny I’d been denied.
But it was reckless. “Goodnight, Fieran.”
His expression was unreadable, his golden eyes catching every flicker of the lantern flame. If he knew I was dragon-marked, surely this moment of privacy would be when he would confront me. Suddenly I felt foolish for thinking he was going to kiss me.
Maybe even if he had seen, he would mercifully ignore the mark. All the dragon-marked shifters trained from childhood. I was mortal, frail, a mistake. I didn’t belong in their world.
My lips parted, trying to find the words to prevent him from laying my secrets bare.
He cupped my cheek with one big palm, his calloused fingers warm against my skin. The world seemed to fall away as he tipped my face up to his. My breath caught helplessly. His gaze lingered a heartbeat—sharp, searching—as if he was going to ruin me.
Then his lips met mine.
There was nothing tentative about the way he kissed me. His mouth sought mine with a sure press, as if this had always been inevitable.
As if we’d done this a thousand times before.
The taste of him was smoke and heat and the sweetness of spiced wine. His other hand slid to my waist, anchoring me when my knees threatened to give out.
He didn’t ruin my secret. He ruined me.
His tongue stroked inside my mouth, and my hips swayed toward his recklessly, as if I wanted him pulsing inside me in every way.
His hand on my hip was as hot as a brand where his fingers overlapped the curve of my ass.
I’d never been so keenly aware of a man, so lost in the sensation of his mouth, his all-consuming attention.
I was breathless when he pulled away. He studied me a moment, that dangerous smile curving his lips.
“Goodnight, little mortal.”
I turned and walked away, feeling self-conscious. I didn’t even remember to protest being called mortal before I was at the turn in the road, the one that would lead me home and block my view back toward the shifters.
I turned and looked back. Their tall, lean figures were silhouetted against the light through the windows. Ander and Fieran, muscular and unmistakable, were deep in conversation.
Tomorrow, the lodging house windows would be empty and dark without them. They’d go, and I’d stay, and that was what I wanted.
It was what I tried to want.