Page 243 of Silver Elite

He snorts out a grudging chuckle. “I kind of see why he likes you.”

“He more than likes me. He’s obsessed.”

That gets me another chuckle.

We press forward.

—

The first predator strikes thirty minutes into our trek. Some breed of cat. Too hard to discern in the dark. The loud flapping of wings reverberates around us as my rifle shot rings in the darkness and sends the birds scattering.

Xavier’s breathing is heavy. So is mine as I ask, “Are you okay?”

He sounds a bit stunned. “Yeah. What was that?”

“I think it was a mountain lion.”

I crouch in the darkness and stroke the dead animal’s fur, skimming over the damp spot where the bullet penetrated. The fur is coarser than a mountain lion’s, the legs shorter.

“No, it’s a red cougar,” I say in delight. “They are delicious.”

“You’re a weird woman, Darlington.”

We keep walking. The sound of rushing water, a low, lazy gurgle, soon fills the disconcerting silence. Relief tickles my throat. I can’t see the creek, but I can hear it, and that’s all that matters.

“We need to follow the sound of the water,” I tell Xavier.

After the cougar attack, he stopped complaining about me taking the lead. I feel him behind me. His soft, even breathing. The slow echo of his footsteps. I sense his frustration at our pace, at the stifling blackness. Losing a vital sense, particularly to a soldier, is not an enjoyable experience.

“You really a ’fect?”

“What, you think Cross was lying to you?”

“No, he’s never lied to me. It’s just you hid it well.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I wrote on that report that you weren’t cut out for covert ops.”

I throw my head back and laugh.

“I’m more surprised that he is,” Xavier confesses.

“Who?”

“Cross. He told me last night.”

“Yeah? What else did he tell you?”

“Last night? Not much. Just that he has telepathy. But this other time…This one night, a couple of years ago…He was still with Eversea at the time, but he was thinking of ending it with her.”

I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I don’t stop him. Curiosity tickles my stomach.

“So we went to a bar in the city. Pounded synth whiskey until we were both good and boozed. When I asked him why he was dropping Ivy, he got this really serious look on his face and then said,Because she’s not the girl of my dreams. And I laughed and said,Okay, then who is?”

“What did he say?”

“He said the girl of his dreams loves daisies.”

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