Page 4 of The Healer

“About what?”

“Life.”

“So serious.” He tilted his head to the side, appraising her. “Please tell me it’s not about that male who clearly broke your heart.”

She rolled her eyes and nudged him with her shoulder, before wrapping her arms around herself. “Yes and no.”

Marche curled his arm around her slim shoulders and pulled her against his wiry side. She leaned her head on his shoulder, taking the comfort he offered. “I could make you forget him if you let me,” he whispered in her ear.

She laughed. “You and I both know you’d get bored of me quickly. And I think you’ve been spending too much time with Chesh.”

“Not true.Myflirtationsare all my own, princess,” he exclaimed. “Aaaand… I think you’d ground me.”

“And then resent me for it. I’ve seen it a million times.” And she had. So many girls had fallen for the bad boy and ended up at home nursing sick babies while their mate ran around with other women.

“So cynical.”

“No, I’m just tired, I suppose.” Nyx sighed. “I lack direction.”

“Then pick one.” He shrugged, as if it was as simple as all that.

She smiled and glanced up at him. “How simple you make it sound. Maybe I’ll just do that once Scarlet’s wee one is born.”

“On that note…” Marche gave her a sheepish smile, the small gold ring on his lip winking in the light. “You should know that the wolf sent me for you. Scarlet’s having contractions.”

Nyx gasped and jerked out of his arms, already running up the beach. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because Brine is being a big baby. My mother had fifteen children. I can almost always guess how long labor will be,” he said, catching up to her. “Scarlet has at least twenty-four hours before the babe is born, if it isn’t false labor. There is no rush.”

“Fifteen children?” Nyx gasped, her thighs burning from trying to run in the sand. She really needed to exercise more.

Marche grinned impishly. “My fatherisa hare Talagan.”

She snorted. That made a world of sense.

“Is this really as fast as you can run?”he questioned, jogging at her side like it was nothing. Like the sand wasn’t trying to suck his soul from his feet.

“Yes,” Nyx huffed, “not all of us have your heritage.”

She squealed as Marche swept Nyx off her feet and swung her into his arms bridal style. She clutched him close, giggling as he ran toward town.

“No worries. I’ll get us there faster.”

Nyx stared up Marche’s angular jawline. It was a bizarre feeling, being wrapped up in a man’s arms that weren’t Pyre’s or even Briggs’. Her fingers played with the ends of his hair. It wasn’t bad, to be held by him, just odd and… pleasant, if she were honest with herself.

“You’re staring, princess.”

“You have a very nice face,” she found herself saying.

He peered down at her through his wild fringe of white hair, blue eyes twinkling. “Are you flirting with me?”

Nyx rolled her eyes. “Just stating a fact.”

“Pity.”

Heat filled her cheeks as he continued to stare down at her, and she was the first one to look away. The breath trapped in her lungs hissed out between her teeth. What the devil was she doing? This wasn’t like her. She didn’t flirt, didn’t let men carry her around like a princess, didn’t play with their hair.

She pulled her fingers from Marche’s hair, and he squeezed her.

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