around her hips. “If you’ve healed I think we should concentrate on finding Tearloch and the child. We can worry about the cur who raised the zombies and his mystery friends later.”
Without warning he grabbed her upper arm and swung her around to confront his probing gaze.
“You’re babbling.”
She stiffened, sternly ignoring his gloriously naked body. Now was not the time to be thinking of how good it felt to have him between her legs, his heat seeping deep inside her as he plunged....
No.
She gave a sharp shake of her head.
“I do not babble,” she informed him, frost coating her words. “I was sharing a reasonable argument for a possible course of action.”
“You were avoiding the subject.”
“Because I don’t want to discuss it. That should be obvious even to a stubborn, pigheaded Sylvermyst.”
“Too bad.”
Jaelyn hissed in shock as he abruptly scooped her off her feet and carried her across the room to the door leading to a small cellar dug beneath the house.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Lowering her to her feet, Ariyal slammed shut the the door and leaned against it, trapping them in the dark, musty space that was lined with shelves holding hundreds of glass jars coated in dust.
Obviously the previous housewife had been dedicated to canning and juicing and pickling everything that came out of her garden.
Ariyal folded his arms over his chest, his expression brooding.
“One of us is always walking out just when the conversation is getting interesting.”
She snorted. “You and I clearly have different definitions of interesting.”
“You don’t think it’s mildly interesting that I happen to be your mate?”
The cramped space seemed to shrink even further.
Talk about awkward moments.
“You’re not my mate.”
The bronze eyes blazed at her denial. Almost as if he was bothered by her stubborn refusal to admit their growing bond.
“That’s not what you implied a few minutes ago.”
She shrugged. “What I said was ...”
“Yes?”
She glanced toward the shelf of pickled ochre. Yeah, time to split hairs.
“I said I didn’t want to take the risk. You might drive me nuts, but I feel ...” What was the word? “Aware of you. Like we’re connected on some level I don’t even understand.”
“And you think ignoring the connection will make it go away.”
Bingo.
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“And I don’t have any say in the future of our relationship?”
She turned back to meet his scorching gaze, fiercely determined to hold her ground.
It wasn’t like she had a choice in any of this, did she?
“There is no relationship.”
“That’s not how it felt when you were begging me not to stop.”
She shifted, just the memory of being wrapped around this beautiful Sylvermyst sending a heat swirling through her chilled body.
“Sex,” she muttered, ignoring the fact that she would happily beg again given the opportunity.
“No.” He shook his head. “It was more than sex.”
“It can’t be.”
“Why not?”
She hissed in frustration. Weren’t men supposed to want a female who didn’t expect “happily ever after”?
Ariyal acted as if he wanted her to claim him as her mate. As if ...
No. She shook off the mere thought.
What was the point?
“Because I’m a Hunter.”
“And?”
“And we’re not allowed to mate.”
He studied her with a grim expression. “Never?”
“Never.”
“What happens?” He sharply pushed away from the door, moving to tower over her. “You get voted off the island?”
“No.” She tilted back her head, her expression equally grim. “There’s only one way out of the Addonexus.”
The bronzed eyes darkened with swift comprehension. “Death.”
“Death.”
Chapter 13
Santiago shuddered as the King of Weres’ power blasted through the air. The mangy mutt wasn’t pleased that a pack of traitors had managed to waltz through his wine cellars without his knowledge.
Dios.
He’d known Salvatore was the top dog, but he hadn’t realized just what that meant until this moment.
It wasn’t an entirely pleasant revelation.
Barely aware he was moving, Santiago positioned himself between the Were and Nefri. As if the insanely strong vampire needed his protection.
And why the hell would he protect her anyway?
It was a puzzle he easily dismissed as the Were gestured for his overgrown guard to step forward.
“Hess, question the guards,” he commanded. “I want to know if anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary over the past two weeks. I don’t care how meaningless it might have seemed at the time.”
The cur fell to his knees, his bald head pressed to the floor.
“Yes, sire.”
“And bring each of them down here.” A scowl marred the Were’s brow. “It might be that someone will recognize one of the scents.”
“At once.”
Scrambling with surprising haste considering his bulk, the cur was on his feet