Page 163 of The Black Witch

“She came back about an hour later with a rabbit, proceeded to strip naked and sat glowering by the fireplace eating it.”

Aislinn swallows, mortified. “Naked?”

“Naked,” I confirm, matter-of-factly. “I finally had a chance to speak to Rafe about her, too. He stopped by my room earlier, looking for her.”

“What did he say?”

“He thought the story about her moving in is pretty funny. He thinks everything’s funny. I told him that I’m worried about how much time he’s been spending with Diana. I mean, she’s the daughter of an alpha, and our people aren’t on the best terms with each other.” I hesitate before continuing.

“Go on,” Aislinn prods.

“I told him I didn’t want to see him do something incredibly dangerous...for love.” I glance sidelong at Aislinn, watching for her reaction.

“And what did he say?” she asks, her voice now muted.

“Oh, you know. Typical Rafe. He told me not to worry so much—that he’d be careful. But then he laughed and said that if he was going to do something incredibly dangerous, he really couldn’t think of a better reason to.”

“That’s not very encouraging, is it?” Aislinn says, looking away uncomfortably.

I follow Aislinn’s gaze down the long, sloping field before us, the wilds just beyond.

In the distance a lone figure catches my attention. It takes a moment for me to recognize who it is.

Yvan, walking toward the forest at a fast clip.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen him heading into the wilds. I’ve spotted him a number of times from the North Tower window, striding purposefully toward the forest, always curiously alone.

I watch Yvan’s long, powerful stride and think about how things between us have continued to change. His overt hostility is gone. I catch him watching me in both the kitchen and Mathematics now. His expression is often difficult to read, and he quickly looks away as soon as I catch his eye. Against my better judgment, I continue to do a fair bit of discreet watching, too. It’s thrilling to look at him; he’s so absurdly handsome.

And I can’t stop thinking about the mystery of him—how fast and strong he was when going up against Damion Bane. Unnaturally so. And I notice, more and more, how he’s able to pick up heavy things around the kitchen as though they weigh nothing. Just like Jarod.

I dwell on other things, as well.

How he always leaves the top button of his shirt undone, the shadows of the kitchen playing over his elegant neck and throat. The sinuous grace of his movements, never a clumsy, false step, his reflexes razor-sharp. The sharp line of his jaw. The perfect bow of his upper lip, his mouth so distractingly sensual.

A warm flush rises in my cheeks just thinking about it.

“Where does he go?” I wonder as I watch him, thinking out loud.

Aislinn turns to me. “Where doeswhogo?”

“Yvan Guriel. He’s always going off into the woods like Rafe, but not hunting. He never carries anything with him. He just goes. It’s like he’s Lupine or something.”

“So follow him,” Aislinn says despondently.

“That’s bold advice,” I laugh.

Aislinn shrugs listlessly.

I get up and brush dried leaves off my tunic.

“Where are you going?” Aislinn asks.

“I’m taking your advice,” I tell her. “I’m going to follow him.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rescue

---