Page 192 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 3

Paul spun around. Was he still falling? His eyesight was fuzzy but there was something in front of him. He grabbed a hold of it.

‘Ouch. Steady on, Paul.’

‘Ivy?’ He blinked to clear his vision. Her lovely face hovered over him, straight brows creased. ‘What are you doing here? What happened?’

‘Steady. Sit back down. There. Better.’

She lowered him back to the ground, soft grass tickling the bare part of his leg. ‘Why are you here?’

She let go of his shoulders when he was sitting steady and sat beside him, close, but not close enough to touch. He missed her touch. It always soothed the sharp stabbing and burning pain that so often ran through his body—a symptom of his power and his visions. ‘I followed you. I’ve been sitting guard, waiting for you to wake up.’

He shook his head slowly, closing his eyes, trying to make sense of her words. ‘Why were you sitting guard?’ He opened his eyes and looked around. ‘What happened?’

She sighed and picked at a blade of grass, stripping it as she spoke. ‘You had a vision. Earlier. Those dicks you call guards—’

He snorted a laugh. ‘One of those dicks is your brother.’

‘Still a dick.’ She picked a little daisy and began to pluck its petals. Her wavy chestnut hair was pulled into a high ponytail, bits of it curling around her face and highlighting the arch of her neck. Unlike her peers, she barely wore any make-up, just a hint of something that highlighted her long eyelashes and a touch of frosted pink on her lips. She didn’t need anything else. Her skin always held enough of a healthy glow, it didn’t need make-up. She was so lovely.

She looked up at him, the topaz and green flecks in her hazel eyes glowing in the late afternoon light. He should look away, should actually leave like he usually did when he found himself alone with her, but he just couldn’t make himself do it right now.

‘… anyway, surprise-surprise,’ she was saying, ‘but they didn’t think to go and get Iris when you came out of the vision unsteadily and instead let you take off.’

He raised his brows. He didn’t remember the vision right now, only that thinking of it left a nasty taste in the back of his throat. It must have been a bad one. The ones he couldn’t remember afterwards always were. And they were the worst ones to go back into later to figure out. Horrors slowly unfolding. One he didn’t want to try to figure out now. Not with her by his side. She shouldn’t be tainted by the darkness of his visions. She was too good. Too pure. A bright light that didn’t need his darkness marring the gift of her.

He plucked at a daisy, mirroring her actions as he turned his thoughts back to her complaints about his guard. ‘I told them I don’t want them running to Iris every time I have a bad vision.’

‘Maybe not, but they should have helped you, not stood around like dumb idiots when you took off.’

He frowned. ‘Hang on. If I lost my guard, how come you found me?’

She looked down at the daisy she was plucking, her ponytail flipping down to cover the side of her face. ‘I know you come here when you need some down time. I just guessed this was where you’d be.’

‘Oh.’ She’d guessed but his guard hadn’t. How had she known? Why did she know? ‘Have you been following me?’

She ducked her head down further, but he still saw the blush that crept up her neck. ‘Not following. Not like stalker following anyway. Just … making sure you are okay. You feel so … sad. And alone. More than my wolf likes.’

‘Your wolf worries about me?’ His breath began to burn a little in his chest.

She glanced up at him, her glorious eyes spearing into him for a breathtaking moment before she ducked her head again, hoop earrings jangling against her neck, her t-shirt slipping further off her shoulder.

He swallowed hard. He shouldn’t look. She was Stellan’s sister. And she wasn’t meant for him.

Thankfully she didn’t see his struggle, her attention back on the daisy she was shredding, then in a voice he had to lean in to hear, said, ‘My wolf has to know you’re okay, okay?’

‘Really?’

‘Of course. She’s a maternal wolf.’

‘Yes. Of course.’

She didn’t look up at him, her gaze firmly fixed on her hands.

His followed her gaze, watching as she pinched a hole in a daisy stem and pulled another one through. She had such beautiful hands. They weren’t perfect princess hands—no, it was obvious she did hard work with those hands, working the vines and in the orchards when she wasn’t helping in the kitchens or studying, part of the workforce that had made the McVale vineyards into the success they were today. Her nails were short, her thumb nail on her right hand bitten down, the skin there a little red-raw. She always chewed it when she was thinking deeply—which she did mostly when she was studying. He smiled as she lifted her hand and bit at her fingernail now. He wondered what she was thinking.

His gaze roamed over her, taking advantage of the fact she was studiously not looking at him.

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