Page 24 of Gone Hunting

“But not during earthquakes?” she guesses.

“No. Between the sound and the amount of magic used to create it, anycallwould be muffled.”

“What about your friends?” she asks.

My fascination with Celia’s beauty and subtle gestures make it hard to stay focused. I do my best. “My friends live close, so the distance and wind aren’t an issue.”

She nods, appearing to understand. She hesitates, then asks, “Is Koda okay? He sounded sad.”

My loyalty to Koda won’t allow me to say much. “He doesn’t have it easy.”

I gesture toward the house. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”

The refrigerator remained plenty cold when I opened it. I found the giant sides of beef Mom had prepared seasoned and ready to cook. I suppose I could have broiled them in the oven with just a strike of a match but chose instead to roast them over the firepit.

I beat back a grin when I caught Celia gaping at me as I chopped firewood. I was hot, sweaty, and shirtless. I pretended not to notice, and although I already had plenty of firewood by that point, I chopped some more.

Celia had drunk all the water we’d brought on the hunt. She drank even more as I cooked our meal. I was sure all that water would fill her and that she wouldn’t be able to eat much. She surprised me by eating almost as much as I did. The meal made a big difference. She perked up and color returned to her cheeks.

I didn’t want Celia to help me clean up. She did anyway and was as efficient and fast as my mother. I almost asked her if this was a regular task, but I didn’t want to remind her of home, not when it would make her sad.

She washes the last dish and passes it to me to dry, covering her mouth to suppress a yawn.

“We should go to bed,” I say.

Her eyes widen. “What?”

I don’t have to look in the mirror to know my face is fire-engine red. “Ah, bed?” I repeat like a dumbass. “You know, in my room?”

Her tigress eyes replace her own. That’s pretty much when I realize I’m in trouble. “I’m not going to bed with you.”

My hands shoot out so fast, I almost break the plate when it lands on the counter. “That’s not what I mean. I just want youinmy bed.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” she snaps.

And that’s when her claws come out.

“I mean, I want you in bed by yourself!” Holy crap, she looks ready to gut me. “Without me. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“No.”

Of course not. Celia doesn’t speak moron. “You can stay in my room is all I meant.” There. I said it. Why was that so hard?

Her nails slowly withdraw. “You want me to sleep in your bed?”

“Yes.”

“By myself?” she clarifies.

Because I haven’t looked like enough of an idiot, I click my tongue and make a little shooting motion with my fingers. “You got it.”

She watches me for a beat, then another, her nails protruding and withdrawing again as if unsure whether to believe me or leave me a eunuch. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“I figured I’d sleep in the guestroom.”

“You have a guestroom?” she asks.

“Yeah, a couple of them,” I admit.

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