I gave him the look. The one that said “don’t be dumb.” He raised his hands. “Okay, stupid comment. But that doesn’t negate the question.”
“Yes, it does. And before you ask, I can’t tell you why I’m suddenly reacting to silver—especially when it isn’t all encompassing. I can still handle both my knife and my athame without problems.” I hesitated. “What I can say is that not only are my senses sharpening, but I’m now healing far faster than I should. For example, I should be sporting a colorful array of fading bruises right now, and I’m not.”
“Bruises? From the explosion?”
I nodded and glanced at him. “Jaz did tell you about that, didn’t she?”
“Yes, but she didn’t say you’d been hurt.”
“I guess she figured it wasn’t her place, especially given everything else you had going on.” I shrugged again and decided to change the subject. If we continued down that particular path, we’d end up at the whole “I’m not a wolf and will never be pack” discussion and I wasn’t quite ready for that yet. “When I was talking to Belle just before, she mentioned there’d been another murder.”
He nodded, though the brief flicker of relief that crossed his expression suggested he also wasn’t ready for the confrontation we both knew was coming. “Hale Letts. At least this time it wasn’t accompanied by an explosive attempt to get rid of evidence.”
“Maybe because, in the process of trying to defuse that first bomb, I think I exposed my presence to the killer.” I shrugged. “Maybe they’ve decided not to waste magical energy on a spell that could be used to trace them.”
His gaze cut sharply to mine. “Why would you think the killer is aware of your presence?”
“My rollover wasn’t an accident. I was forced off the road by a bolt of magical energy that appeared to come from the same entity I sensed up near the caravan.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” The coffee machine started spluttering. I concentrated on it rather than the man whose concerned anger washed over me in waves.
“Why on earth would it be targeting you? And why didn’t you mention it to Jaz?”
“Because I don’t believe the explosion was aimed at me. And it’s not like you and I have had any time to talk.”
“No.” He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. It was a somewhat frustrated sound. “If the rollover was an attempt to get rid of you, it might be wise if you stayed out of the investigation.”
I snorted and switched cups to fill the second. “And how will that help? This thing is clearly aware of my presence and is intent on nullifying me. What makes you think I’ll be any safer on the sidelines?”
“Misplaced hope?”
I grinned. “At least you recognize it as such.”
He started plating up our meal. I picked up both cups, walked around the counter, and sat on one of the stools. “Have you made an ID on the van victim?”
“There was nothing left of him to hang an ID onto—not even teeth. But Jason Martin owned the caravan, and we believe the body was his. According to his parents, he’d been living there for the last two months after losing his job and his rental.”
“Did he have any connection to the second victim?”
“Initial forensics suggests Hale might actually be the first victim.” Aiden slid a filled plate across the counter, then handed me a knife and fork. “But no connection that’s immediately obvious.”
He moved around to sit on the stool beside me. His leg brushed mine and sent my pulse rate skittering again. The small smile that tugged at his lips suggested he was well aware of my current state of hypersensitivity where he was concerned.
I pulled my leg away a fraction to allow concentration on the food rather than the man.
“Any theories?” I asked in between mouthfuls. To say I was famished would be the understatement of the year. It was probably just as well he’d also readied a stack of toast.
“Not at this point. Jason wasn’t local—his parents live in Bendigo. The second victim was born and raised here.”
“Either of them wolf?”
“No.” He shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time something nasty has stepped into this reservation to hunt for the hell of it.”
“No, but if it was here to do nothing more than hunt, why go after me? Why bring attention to itself like that?”
“You ask that like you expect me to have an answer.”
His voice was wry, and a smile tugged my lips. “Well, you usually do.”
“Maybe they’re as attracted to your luscious body as I am.”
“Attracting evil’s attention isn’t something I want, thanks very much.”
And we both know there’s more between us than mere attraction. But I kept that thought well and truly to myself. He’d admitted he cared for me—deeply cared—but that was all he was willing to admit, now or probably ever. I had to accept that, like it or not.
And I certainly didn’t.
With a little more force than necessary, I swished my bacon through the yolk then shoved it into my mouth. “Has Monty come up with any theories as to what we might be dealing with?”
He eyed me for a moment, perhaps sensing the brief flicker of anger. “Other than some sort of vampire? No. I believe he and Belle have been searching through her books to see if they can find anything.”
I grunted. “Hopefully that’ll work.”
“It has in the past.”
Which didn’t mean it would continue to do so. The library was extensive, but I suspected there were far more evil entities out there than anyone knew. “What about our SUV? Has it been found yet?”
He grimaced. “Yes, and it’s a write-off.”
“I suspected it would be.” I reached for a bit of toast and slathered it with butter. “That’s not going to make the council happy.”
“They’ve nevertheless ordered you a new one.” He shrugged. “You could write off a hundred vehicles, and it wouldn’t make the slightest impact on the reservation’s finances.”
“How full the reservation’s coffers might be has no relation to how pissed off they become over constantly having to replace my vehicles.”
He waved his fork at my plate. “How about you concentrate on the rest of that rather than talking. You haven’t eaten anything for three days—I’m amazed you even had the strength to bounce down the stairs so damn energetically.”
“Oh, I have the strength to do much more than just bounce down stairs,” I teased. “And if you hand over that piece of bacon sitting all uneaten and forlorn on your plate, I might just prove it later on.”
He laughed and immediately handed over the bacon. He finished relatively quickly after that, but I had several more slices of toast. Maybe I was changing into a Hobbit rather than a werewolf. I seemed to have gained a stomach that required more than one breakfast.
Eventually, I did push my plate away with a contented sigh. “That was lovely, thank you.”
“No problem at all.” He caught my hands, then tugged me off the stool and into his arms. His teeth grazed my earlobe and sent a delighted shiver through my entire body.