“I think I can control myself,” I said, but it took another five seconds before I put my hand down again.
“There you go,” he said with a smile, then took that hand and stepped back onto the path. “You know, when we get back to the cascades, you’ll need to help me out—I’m not entirely sure where my clothes are, and mine won’t be the only ones out there.”
“I can point you in their general direction.”
“Good enough,” he said.
We walked side by side, vampire and naked shifter, back to the waterfall.
* * *
* * *
We returned to find the waterfalls nearly empty, only a few piles of clothing scattered here and there. The shifters who’d finished their searches had apparently dressed again and left.
“I guess Cash wasn’t in a hurry to discuss the evidence,” I said when Connor had dressed again. “Maybe he went with Everett to the funeral home?”
Connor surveyed the area, his expression going grim. “He should at least be out here managing the investigation. Waiting for everyone to report in. If a member of my clan was murdered, I’d be out there searching right along with them.”
“Cash isn’t you,” I said. “Maybe he didn’t like Loren. That would explain the indifference.”
“Yeah,” Connor said. “It would. But we’ve got a dinner date at Georgia’s. If we don’t tell him what we found until tomorrow, that’s his loss.”
“Because we’re going to keep looking,” I guessed. “And we’re more reliable.”
His smile was warm. “I like that I never have to explain things to you twice.”
* * *
* * *
Rain, soft and misty, had begun to fall when Connor pulled the bike in front of the cabin. I was glad I’d taken a photo of the tracks; there’d probably be nothing left of them by tomorrow.
I walked around the building, scanning for any trace of that same broken magic. And found nothing.
“No broken magic,” I said when Connor joined me.
“Could be on the other side of the resort,” he said. “Or maybe it didn’t come back here, whatever it is.” We walked to the front door, and Connor pulled off his boots. “I want a shower.”
“Okay. Do I need to do anything for dinner? Prepare anything?”
He smiled in amusement as he unlocked and opened the door. “Like whip up some steaks?”
“Or whatever.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again. “I’ve actually taken care of that,” he said. Then he walked to the duffel bag he’d left near the kitchen, pulled out a growler of thick, dark liquid. “I brought this.”
I stared at the bottle and the dark brew that sloshed inside it. “Do you hate your family?”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“It wasn’t bad,” I agreed. “It was just . . . a lot. But maybe they’ll have more of a taste for it.”
Connor put the growler on the table, headed down the hallway, pulling his shirt over his head. “We’re beginning Scotch trials when we get back. And you might need a drink after hanging with the family.”
* * *
* * *
While he showered, I checked my screen for messages from Petra. There weren’t any, so I toed off my shoes and sat down on the floor. My monster had handled the initiation just fine, but past results didn’t guarantee future success, as my father enjoyed saying in his not infrequent pep talks about mental toughness.
But Georgia had looked at me and seen . . . something. My eyes hadn’t changed color, and I hadn’t gone berserker. Maybe she’d only detected the magic, had felt the otherness about me. Either way, that was the most awareness I was willing to grant her.
So I crossed my legs, put my hands on my knees, and closed my eyes. I focused on my breath—in, hold, out. In, hold, out, until I could feel the remaining tension slip away, and the monster no longer peeked over my shoulder, looking for a way out.
I opened my eyes when I heard the water turn off, and half-expected to see Alexei staring at me again, but the room was still empty. Just me and the monster.
Feeling chill, if not exactly more energized, I stood up and stretched out, pulled a colored lip balm from my backpack, reapplied, then flipped over my hair, finger-fluffed it, and flipped it back again. I checked myself in the mirror that hung over the couch—the frame made of birch logs—and decided I was presentable.
“Best I can do,” I said, and prepared to sup with the family.
* * *
* * *
Georgia’s home was four cabins away from ours, so it was only a short walk. But I still made him carry the growler.
“Door’s open,” Georgia called out before Connor had even put a hand on the knob.
“I suppose I shouldn’t mention the importance of security,” I said.
He snorted. “No, vampire. You should not.”
“Welcome,” Georgia called out when he opened the door and amazing smells spilled through the doorway. She stood in front of a kitchen island, mixing something in a blue ceramic bowl with an enormous red spoon. She’d added a red apron to her ensemble, and switched out the formal shoes for furry house slippers.
There was food everywhere. Stacks of meat on plates, bowls of vegetables in various stages of preparation, two cakes—one pink, one covered in coconut—on a nearby table.
Like vampires, wolves could eat. That was a vote in their favor.
The scent of food was matched in strength only by the variety of magic in the room. Layers of it, probably because Georgia’s home had been a meeting place for shifters, a place where her family gathered and their magic had lingered.
“Georgia,” Connor said, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “thank you for having us.”
“You’re family,” she said. “And you’re welcome. What’s in the bottle?”
“NAC Industries’ first stout,” he said. “We call it the Alpha Stout.”
Of course they did.
Georgia arched a narrow painted eyebrow. “Is it good?”
“It’s . . . distinguished,” he decided. I couldn’t disagree with that, so I didn’t challenge him. But then she looked at me, and I had to work hard not to look away.
“Is it good?” she asked again, gaze narrowed.
“It’s complex.”