Page 61 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
Back in the bathroom, I eyed the tiny window above the toilet, measuring it against my shoulders. It was barely wider than a shoebox. Still, I found myself genuinely calculating whether I could squeeze through the narrow opening. If I exhaled completely, dislocated both shoulders, and possibly broke several ribs in the process… maybe?
The three-storey drop on the other side would be the cherry on top of this disaster sundae. I’d either break both legs or land in those thorny bushes I’d spotted yesterday.
At least it would solve my current predicament. Death by rosebush seemed marginally less painful than facing Rory after what had just happened.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, peering down at the concrete below. The drop looked even more lethal from this angle. Perfect. I could picture the report now: “Cause of death: acute embarrassment followed by gravity.”
I turned away from the window with a silent curse. I had a possible homicide to solve, a case to close, and a professional reputation to salvage—if only I could remember how to look Rory in the eye without feeling the echo of his pleasure still reverberating through my mind.
10
Rory
The Scottish countryside was showing off, and I couldn’t even properly enjoy it. The sunlight broke through the clouds in dramatic rays that would’ve made Kit grab his camera. Mountains rose majestically against the horizon, their peaks disappearing into wisps of cloud, and heather painted the hillsides in patches of purple. The occasional cluster of sheep dotted the landscape like tiny cotton balls scattered by a careless child.
My wolf senses were already heightening as we neared pack territory. The window, cracked open just an inch, brought a symphony of scents—the sharp tang of pine sap from the forests to our left, the sweet musk of heather warmed by sunlight, the earthy richness of peat bogs, and beneath it all, the faint mineral smell of granite that formed the bones of these mountains. Home smells that bypassed my human brain and spoke directly to my wolf, stirring memories I’d tried to bury.
Luckily, I was rather distracted—busy suffocating in the awkward silence that had settled between Maxwell and me since we’d left the B&B this morning.
My phone buzzed against my thigh.
Priya
Guess what?
Just caught Flynn trying to break into room 303 FOR THE THIRD TIME. Honestly, that man. He won’t let it go.
Anyway, can you keep texting Kit to reassure him you’re still alive? He’s so stressed he’s snapping at everyone. Even Felix.
Can do. And really???
Yes, really. Now poor Felix is traumatised and Kit is feeling awful even though he won’t admit it. But anyway, how’s it going?
This was followed by a stream of shifty eye emojis that made me instantly suspicious.
what?
What do you mean, what?
I stared at my phone. Priya was never this cryptic unless she was fishing for something specific.
how long until you arrive?
only a couple of hours now.
and you and Maxwell have survived this long in the car together without killing each other?
I glanced sideways at Maxwell, who was gripping the steering wheel like it might try to escape. His jaw was clenched tight enough to crack walnuts. I’d obviously really upset him with my teasing about the cuddling this morning.
The way he’d bolted from the bed made it clear how disturbed—disgusted, even—he was to have woken up wrapped around a practically naked me. And if he had any idea what I’d done in that bed while he was showering, he’d probably die. My cheeks burned at the memory of how hard I’d come. God, what kind of person wanks thinking about someone who can’t stand them?
What made it even more annoying was how different things had been last night in the forest. When I’d shifted, Maxwell had suddenly smelled like ambrosia to my wolf—the intoxicating blend of cedar, rain-on-pavement, and that sharp black pepper and lemongrass scent altered my brain, and suddenly something inside me demanded to press against his legs. Maxwell hadn’t seemed to mind at all. In fact, he’d stroked my fur with those long fingers of his, scratched behind my ears in ways that had made me melt. He’d evensmiled. Smiled atme. And I’d loved it, leaning into his touch shamelessly like some overgrown puppy, even bringing him that rabbit as a gift. Which, in retrospect, might not have been my brightest idea. But still.
Then, earlier, I had to go and ruin it with my stupid mouth, making jokes about the cuddling. Now we were back to square one—worse than square one—with him acting like I was radioactive. Typical Rory behaviour, always bollocksing things up just when they finally started going well.
In a futile attempt to fix things, on the journey today, I’d been fighting to be my best, least-irritating self, which mainly involved completely shutting my mouth, to be honest. It didn’t help that ever since last night, I was hyper-aware of his scent—the black pepper and lemongrass radiating seemingly from his pores made it impossible to focus on anything else. Every time he shifted in his seat, a fresh wave would hit me, and mywolf would stir restlessly beneath my skin. Distracting didn’t even begin to cover it.
we’re sat in silence right now because i’ve pissed him off. think he hates me more than ever tbh
