Bound by Forever - (True Immortality #3) Page 0,27
frost-dulled green. “And it goes right into those woods.” He turned to her. “We follow that road but keep to the trees.”
“And you think this is definitely Sweden?”
He nodded. “When I checked the map on the flight, we were heading toward the south of the Baltic Sea.”
“But doesn’t that mean we could be in any one of the countries with coasts along the southern end of the Baltic Sea?”
“No. We traveled west.”
Niamh frowned. “How do you know that?”
His expression was shuttered as he strode toward the road in the distance. “I have an excellent sense of direction.”
“Is that a wolf thing?”
He shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of.”
That now-familiar burn of irritation flared in Niamh’s chest. She knew Kiyo could be like Conall, an extraordinarily powerful alpha with his own quirky gift. But her gut instinct told her there was something more here. How did he and Fionn know one another? And why was Fionn so sure that Kiyo was the one supernatural on earth powerful enough to protect a fae? Niamh was stronger, faster, and almost unkillable. Yes, she could be overpowered by too many people at once and was absolutely screwed if they used iron on her, just as Kiyo had proved. Strength in numbers helped.
But that didn’t explain why Fionn chose this guy of all supes to send as her bodyguard.
And it was bugging the crap out of her that she’d received a wishy-washy vision about him that told her nothing except that Tokyo was important.
She thought of that moment on the plane, when he’d wanted her to share her recent vision and Niamh had held his hand. She’d allowed herself to be vulnerable because, for a moment, she’d felt an inexplicable connection with him.
Kiyo had rejected her. Niamh reckoned he’d tried to be as nice as someone like him could be, but he’d still rejected her need for comfort. And in the end, he hadn’t been very nice about it at all.
“Who are you really, Kiyo?”
He stopped mid stride and turned to look back at her. His expression had been blank until his gaze dropped down her body and his eyes narrowed.
Frowning, Niamh glanced down. Her white T-shirt was plastered to her skin, leaving very little to the imagination. And now that she was aware of it, her skinny jeans were soaked through and rasping like sandpaper against her legs.
Kiyo was in much the same condition. His T-shirt delineated the powerful muscle she’d seen in the woods back in Moscow. She remembered his nakedness and the scar on his belly. At one point someone had come at him with silver.
She noted a slight tremor move through him. A shiver.
The wolf was cold.
It occurred to Niamh that it was February on a Swedish island, and they’d just been in a sea that was probably subzero. The ground beneath was crisp with frost and sparkled in the sunlight. Werewolves ran hot, but they still felt the chill.
She walked toward him, and his whole body locked with tension. Niamh reached out a hand to touch him and his snapped up in reflex. He grabbed her wrist, holding her away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”
A needle of hurt stung near her heart.
He still didn’t trust her.
Was it because he didn’t trust anyone … or because she was fae?
“I was going to use my magic to dry your clothes.” Niamh tugged on his hold but his grip tightened. “Let me go.”
His dark eyes searched hers, the suspicion fading to bemusement. Slowly Kiyo uncurled his hand from her wrist. “Fine.”
Feeling less charitable toward him than she had been a minute ago, Niamh hesitated.
The wolf cocked his head, contemplating her. “Did I hurt you?”
For a moment, she panicked he could see right through her. Then she realized he meant her wrist. Niamh gave him a somewhat mocking smile. “It takes a lot to hurt me.” Reaching out, she placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and poured her energy into drying the clothes on his body and also into his skin to warm him up.
“Why do I think that’s not true?” Kiyo’s question was almost a whisper.
Her eyes lifted to his as her energy moved through him. “What?”
“You said it takes a lot to hurt you. I doubt that somehow.”
Seeing his clothes were now dry, she wrenched her hand away. “Because I’m soft, you mean? Soft and weak.” Refusing to meet his gaze, Niamh strode past him, her clothes drying as she used the same magic on herself. “I meant physically.