The Last Warrior (Shifters Unbound #13) - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,35
making for his storage room.
“Jaycee and Dimitri? They’re good kids.”
“I mean all the Shifters.” Somehow her hand was back in Ben’s. “You say you’re alone, but you’ve made friends with them, become one of them. I hear they don’t easily let anyone into their packs or prides. Or clans, or whatever they call them.”
“You’re right, they don’t let many in.” Ben let out a breath, her kiss still tingling on his lips. He noticed they studiously avoided mentioning it. “When Shifters stopped being suspicious of me, they accepted me. Mostly. They’re still suspicious, but that’s Shifters.”
“Understandably. They have to be very careful. The Fae almost destroyed them, and the humans fear them.”
“Yep.” Ben squeezed her hand. “You be careful. Shifters can be loyal to the death, but they’re also deadly. They’re not quite sure what to do with you yet.”
“I won’t stay here forever.”
Rhianne spoke with confidence, but Ben remembered that same confidence when he’d first arrived in the human world. He’d assumed he would figure out how to survive here for a time, and then return home and avenge his people.
Before he’d known it, centuries had gone by. Surviving had turned to existence, which had turned to settling in. He’d lived here longer than he ever had in Faerie, and he wasn’t certain now if he wanted to return to Faerie permanently.
They fetched the purchases from Ben’s storage room and walked on to where Ben had parked the motorcycle. Rhianne still said nothing about the kiss, or much of anything at all.
Did she regret it? Ben sure as hell didn’t. Rhianne was a beautiful woman, ready for loving. Tuil Erdannan, true. That could make for some complications, but since Ben’s whole life was complicated, why should he think this would be any different?
Ben stashed their things in the saddlebags, and they mounted up. Rhianne wrapped her arms around him less hesitantly than before, leaning into him as he turned the motorcycle to head out of the city.
All the way out to the haunted house, Rhianne’s warmth poured over him. Ben had tasted her, forbidden fruit, and he wanted to taste her again.
When they reached the house, Jaycee and Dimitri were already there. The two waited on the porch, lounging together on the swing where Ben had sat with Rhianne that morning.
Ben led the way inside. The house opened its door readily for him, then closed softly once they’d entered, the locks clicking into place.
Dimitri revealed that he and Jaycee had changed their minds about Ben’s offer of beer. “We decided we were tired after the long trip from Texas,” he said, glancing at Jaycee. “We’ll head up to bed.”
“Good night,” Jaycee said, cutting off any chance for debate.
She marched up the stairs, and Dimitri, with a wave, took the stairs two at a time behind her. Dimitri and Jaycee had a bedroom reserved for them here, and soon the door closed behind them.
“I hope you brought earplugs,” Ben said to Rhianne, resting his arm on the newel post. “When they start in, they rattle the walls.”
Rhianne’s brows rose. “Are they going to couple?”
Ben huffed a laugh. “Of course they are. They’re mate bonded. They like sex. They were probably so horny by the time they got here they didn’t want to do anything else.”
“Then we should leave them to it.” Rhianne wandered down the hall to the veranda’s door at the end.
Ben followed her out into soft darkness, the scent of roses lingering. Moonlight streamed over the trees behind the house, lighting the path below.
Ben thought Rhianne would linger on the veranda, but she stepped down its stairs and started around the house, Ben behind her.
“Where ya going?” he asked lightly.
“To the garden Tiger showed me. It was beautiful. A fine place to look at the stars.”
Ben agreed that the rose garden, old and venerable, was a lovely thing. He got ahead of her on the path, preferring to lead in case of danger.
They entered the garden, moonlight like a pool of silver, the Big Dipper stark in the sky, planets hanging out on the ecliptic. The rose bushes were dark in the night, late roses rendered a stark white.
“Some of these bushes are more than a hundred years old.” Ben gestured at the climbing roses on the wall, feeling the need to babble something. “One or two even more than that.”
“They must have seen many things,” Rhianne observed quietly.
“Without a doubt. This house could tell a lot of tales. Sometimes it does.”