Despite her bravado, Teresa’s fear was so thick he could sense it, graying her aura, fraying the edges of her control and patience. But her strength was more than a match for that fear, he told himself, pleased at the set of her squared shoulders and the defiant tilt of her chin.
She would need that strength and more in the coming days.
“You really took your time riding to the rescue,” she said softly, scraping her hands up and down her arms as if looking for warmth.
“You were never in real danger,” he told her, stung by her accusation. Hadn’t he been watching over her for centuries? From one incarnation to the next, she had never been out of his reach. “I was nearby.”
“Right.” She dropped her hands to her sides and frowned down at the sand that still clung to her clothing. Nodding to herself, she took another deep breath and asked, “So where are we?”
He winced at the pain in his back. “In a house near the edge of Sedona.”
“Whose is it?” she asked, instantly wary.
As she should be, he thought. Her magic was alive and already the federal agencies were aware of it. Suspicion would be her closest friend now.
“It’s mine,” he said and watched her tension relax the slightest fraction. She was still taut with residual uneasiness and the remnants of her own power rushing through her. He felt a quick flare of admiration at her strength of will.
But it wasn’t only her character that caught his attention. Rune looked at his witch and felt his body stir in appreciation, despite the agony of the white-gold shards still trapped beneath his skin. She was tall, though since he stood six feet five inches himself, her height was negligible to him. She wore faded blue jeans, dark brown cowboy boots and a forest green T-shirt that clung to her lush curves. Her eyes were the color of dark chocolate and her skin the shade of rich coffee with cream. Her wildly tangled black hair hung past her shoulders. It was all Rune could do to keep his hands off her.
He had already waited several lifetimes for her—another few days while she accustomed herself to the fact that they were mates wouldn’t kill him.
He walked to the closest window, peeled back the edge of the curtains and looked out on to a rainy scene. No one was about, which was all to the good.
“You own a house in Sedona?” she asked. “How long have you been here?”
“I bought this house when you were a child. To be close by if you had need,” he said, not bothering to tell her that he hadn’t stayed here all that time. He was an Eternal, after all, and besides his duty to his witch, there was also a duty to all of those with power. He and the others like him were the strongest barrier standing between witches and the enemies who would destroy them.
“Where were you, then, when Miguel came into my life?” she murmured.
Rune stiffened at the mention of the abusive man who had made Teresa’s life a misery for several months before she freed herself of him. The moment she became involved with the male, Rune had left Sedona. He couldn’t force himself to stay near her and watch her with someone else.
“I didn’t realize what he was until after you left him,” he said softly.
She threw him a quick, haunted look that disappeared in a flash. “Doesn’t matter. I took care of myself. I always do.”
Her bravado didn’t hide the pain in her eyes and Rune felt another sharp stab of regret slice at him. Miguel had left town after Teresa showed him the door and Rune hadn’t wanted to leave her to find him. But one day, he assured himself, there would be reparations made with Miguel.
He watched her gaze sweep the room and knew what she was thinking. Spartan, the house held only the bare necessities. He had no need for luxury. And drawing attention to himself or this house hadn’t seemed wise. So he had stocked the place with only what he needed. There were couches, chairs and tables. In the kitchen, there was food, though he rarely required sustenance. There was a bed, extra clothing and the emptiness that always filled a place where nothing was shared.
Where nothing mattered.
Until now.
“If this is your house,” she asked quietly, “won’t the feds know to come here?”
“They know nothing of me. It’s you they’re following,” he reminded