thought or feeling, but they hadn’t succeeded.
At least not completely.
Below the ice was a passionate female just aching to break free of her restraints.
And he was just the man to help her discover her suppressed needs.
Entering the woods that lined the edge of the meadow, Ariyal briefly halted as he caught the unmistakable stench of cur.
It wasn’t unusual for dogs to be sniffing around such prime hunting grounds, but he kept his senses on full alert as he stripped off his clothes and waded into the hip-deep water of the creek.
Once clean, he slid on the jeans he found in the bag that Jaelyn had tossed at him, tucking a dagger into the waistband at his lower back and strapping another to his ankle. Then after braiding back his wet hair, he reached back into the bag to pull out the shirt.
A brief glance was all that was necessary for him to comprehend Jaelyn’s earlier amusement. Good ... gods. The silk Hawaiian shirt painted with gaudy yellow and red flowers was an affront to fashion.
Clutching the offensive garment in one hand, and his sword and scabbard in the other, he marched out of the woods and across the meadow, finding Jaelyn and Levet resting beneath the large oak tree.
“I suppose you think this is funny?” he demanded, dangling the shirt in front of her nose.
Beside her the annoying gargoyle doubled over as his laughter echoed across the countryside.
“Oui. I think it is très amusing.”
Ariyal glared at the pest in warning. “I thought I caught the scent of cur near the creek. Why don’t you go investigate?”
“Why me?”
“Because if you stay there’s a good chance I’m going to skewer you to the nearest tree.”
“Are you always so surly?” Levet asked. Then, as he met Ariyal’s dark glare, he gave a frustrated flutter of his wings and headed across the meadow. “I thought fey were supposed to be shiny, happy people?” he called over his shoulder.
Jaelyn rose to her feet. “He’s right,” she accused. “You are surly.”
He was.
And it didn’t have a damned thing to do with butt-ugly shirts, he acknowledged as his gaze ran a hungry path down her body.
“I’m frustrated.”
She put her hands on her hips at his blunt explanation. She was obviously as frustrated as he was. But was she willing to admit the truth? Oh no, she rolled her eyes with a faux female annoyance.
“Men.”
“Women,” he mocked in return, waving the shirt like a flag. “And you chose this deliberately.”
She shrugged. “It’s clean, isn’t it?”
“It’s hideous.”
“Fine. Next time I won’t bother.”
He stepped close, shivering at the delicious feel of cool power washing over the bare skin of his upper body.
“Which begs the question why you bothered this time,” he pointed out. “Can’t get me out of your mind even when we’re apart, eh, poppet?”
“I wanted to annoy you.”
“Sure you did.”
She growled deep in her throat.
“In case you haven’t noticed, time is a-wasting,” she snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be hunting your friend and his freaky wizard?”
Ariyal grimaced, tossing aside the shirt and strapping the sword over his bare skin. She was right. They had more pressing problems than the state of his wardrobe.
He had managed to follow Tearloch’s portal to this spot, but once he’d landed in the meadow he’d realized that his connection to his tribesman was muted, making it impossible to pinpoint his exact location.
“I can sense he’s near, but there’s some sort of spell of protection surrounding him.”
Predictably the vampire glared at him with a seething impatience, making it clear she held him entirely to blame for being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no immediate enemies to suck dry.
“So you intend to sit here and wait for him to stroll past?”
He clenched his teeth. Aggravating female.
“I’m waiting for midnight.”
“Why?
“That’s when the spirits are easiest to raise.”
“What do you need with spirits?”
“The wizard that Tearloch called from the grave possesses an abnormal amount of magic.” He grimaced, more deeply disturbed by Rafael’s power than he wanted to admit. “I have no intention of walking into a trap when I can use spirits to track him down and tell us of any dangers.”
She shuddered in distaste. “Does it have to be spooks?”
He arched a brow. Was it possible the fearless Hunter was unnerved by a harmless ghost?
Of course, Rafael had proved they weren’t all harmless, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.
“Don’t worry. They dislike vampires.” He smiled at her sour expression. “If you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone.”
“Isn’t there another