Page 4 of Roaring Heat
I smile wryly. "I know many scientists don't buy into the idea of ley lines or their power, but when you've lived here for as long as I have, you can feel them. Glacier Hollow is different."
“I don’t buy the mystical explanation, but I’ll grant you—something here is different. I felt something change when I stepped into the clearing just now. It's as if everything did a sidestep two inches to the left."
She doesn't recognize or understand it, but it just did.
Anabeth moves closer, crouching across from me. Her gaze darts over the stone arrangement, but I can feel her watching me too. Not just the work—me. Her brow furrows in concentration, like she's trying to solve a puzzle she didn't even realize she'd stepped into.
I don’t look away fast enough, and for a second, she catches me staring. Her eyes flick up, surprised but unbothered, and something in them—curiosity, heat, challenge—pulls tightly in my gut.
"Do you always work out here alone?"
"When I'm not doing my day job."
"Which is?"
"Local mechanic and fix-it guy. If it's got an engine and breaks down, I'm the guy you call to get it running again."
Anabeth nods. "Shouldn’t you have backup? A partner? A druid with a flashlight or something?"
I huff a laugh. "You volunteering?"
"Hard pass. I’ve already got a job to do. Besides, if you gave me a spell and a wand, I'd probably conjure up a fire-breathing dragon with an attitude problem."
Her voice is steady and light, but her fingers tremble just slightly as she reaches toward one of the stones. Before I can stop her, she touches it.
A burst of heat flares through the ground—sharp, immediate, alive. It kicks beneath my boots like a warning shot, but it doesn’t come from her. Or me. It comes from the line itself, like the earth suddenly recognized her and answered with fire. Not violent, but intimate. Like a signal. Like a spark sent out in recognition of something long-awaited.
I move fast, catching her elbow and yanking her back. Her skin is warm beneath my hand, and the contact jolts through me like touching a live current. Not painful. Not even startling. Just... immediate, real, and powerful. Her balance tips into me for a moment, and the weight of her body against mine feels too right. Too familiar. I steady her, but I don’t let go—not right away.
"What the hell was that for?" she asks, pulling her arm free.
"You could have gotten hurt."
"It’s a rock."
"It’s a volatile conduit running under half this valley. You don’t get that close without knowing how they'll react."
"Who?"
"The ley lines."
She crosses her arms. "And how was I supposed to know that?"
"You weren’t. That’s why I’m telling you now."
Her eyes flash. "You know, just because you’re built like a lumberjack and talk like you wrestle trees doesn’t mean you get to bark orders at me."
My mouth quirks. "I don’t bark."
She glares. "You growl, then."
"Only when I'm trying to be persuasive. Otherwise, I roar."
Something about the way she looks at me, bold and unshaken, lands hard against the raw edge of my control. It hits the same place deep inside that her scent did back at the store. Like she doesn’t even realize she’s struck a nerve, unaware her words landed with precision. My bear paces, clawing at the surface, not out of anger but interest. Sharp, focused interest.
I school my expression. "You shouldn't come out here alone again. It isn't safe, at least not until we get a handle on what’s happening. The ley lines are drawing things they shouldn’t."
She frowns. "I don't believe in ley lines. But if I did, what kind of things would they be drawing?"
