Page 12 of The Claiming of the Shrew
“You weren’t helping her sneak around the lodge?”
“Nope,” Fawkes said, hoping his innocent look held better with the sister than it did with Leah. The sneaking around had been entirely separate.
The sister relaxed a little. “Okay, that’s ... better than I thought, I guess. You still haven’t told me what your intentions are for her, though.”
“My intentions,” he said. “Uh.”
To hold her and protect her and love her and ravish her gently until she begs for more and make all her dreams come true?—
“Mostly undecided,” Fawkes said over his brain’s determination to show him in great detail how, exactly, he was going to make Leah’s dreams come true, especially any of them that could take place in the bedroom.
We shall grasp her in both hands and take her back to our den and curl up gently with her and cling to her forever as our greatest treasure, foremost among all the trash in our hoard.
Ah yes, there was his inner animal, being helpful as usual.
It really was true, he thought: when you met your mate, she was all you could think about. Which was very inconvenient for him on this particular weekend, especially with Leah’s sister giving him a look that suggested he hadn’t provided the correct answer and she was about to go full polar bear on him.
“Mostly undecided?” She shook a finger in his face. “My sister doesn’t date people very often, she’s had some bad experiences in the past, and if you’re planning a weekend fling followed by dumping her?—”
“Look,” Fawkes said, actual anger on Leah’s behalf beginning to stir in him. He pushed aside the hand that was thrusting a finger in his face. Leah’s sister looked shocked. “Your sister is an adult. She can have a weekend fling if she wants to, without having to answer to you. And no, a weekend fling isn’t all I have in mind, there hasn’t even been an actual fling yet, but if there was, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”
“How dare—” the sister began, but just then she was interrupted by a wonderfully familiar voice.
“There you are!”
Leah crutch-stomped around the corner and made a beeline for Fawkes. He tried not to visibly light up at the sight of her, but it was probably obvious.
“Fawkes,” Leah said. Her eyes flashed hazel fire; her hair was coming out of a casual braid. The sun lit her up like a goddess, which made him nearly miss what she said next. “Where were you last night? In your room?”
“Uh,” said Fawkes, who very much had not been in his room. “Yes.”
Leah abruptly noticed that he wasn’t alone. “Joy, move. I need to yell at Fawkes properly.”
At least now he had a name for the sister. “We were having a discussion,” Joy said.
“Yes, well, now Fawkes and I are having a discussion.” Leah frowned. “What were you talking about?”
Joy was looking back and forth between them. The anger had faded out of her face, leaving a dawning curious expression. “I think we’re done here, actually,” she said slowly. “I’ll just be in my room if you need me.”
She turned and went briskly back into the lodge. Leah stared after her.
“That was weird,” Leah said.
“What does your sister turn into?” Fawkes asked, which made Leah give him that unfairly adorable narrow-eyed suspicious look again.
“She’s a squirrel. Why?”
Well, that was definitely 100% less likely to result in a mauling than anything else he had been thinking of.
“Just curious.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not what I came here to talk about. I don’t believe you were in your room last night.”
“Why not?” Fawkes demanded indignantly, all too aware that he hadn’t been.
“Because someone trashed the sets I took you to look at just a few hours earlier.”
His budding protest of wounded innocence died in shock. “What?”
