Page 77 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
The word “prison” hung in the air between us. Was she trying to test me? I kept my expression neutral, maintaining eye contact with her as I took another tiny bite of the bloody lamb.
My gaze flicked to Rory beside me, radiating misery. His leg tapped an anxious beat until his palm slammed against it, stilling it abruptly.
How would I survive a whole week up here? The only way to end this torment was to get the information we’d come for—namely, the whereabouts of Devraj Bassi.
I’d never felt so out of my depth. My ordered world I navigated daily—the one where my badge carried weight and my telepathy gave me an edge—had evaporated the moment we crossed the threshold of Thorne Manor. Here, I was just prey among predators, the lone human in a sea of wolves with gleaming teeth and ancient grudges.
The familiar confidence that carried me through homicide scenes and interrogation rooms had abandoned me completely. My training meant nothing here. What good was police procedure against pack law? What use would I be fighting creatures who could tear me apart in seconds?
Every instinct screamed that we should leave immediately. This wasn’t just uncomfortable—this felt dangerous. I could call Kit, force him to talk some sense into his brother. We could be back in London by morning.
“Teddy?” Rory’s elbow dug into my ribs, jarring me from my spiralling thoughts. “Alex is trying to talk to you.”
I blinked, forcing my attention back to the table. Alex was watching me expectantly.
“Sorry,” I managed, plastering what I hoped was a convincing smile across my face while my heart tried to escape my rib cage. “Miles away.”
“I hear you’re a detective in London,” Alex said, his Scottish accent pronounced on the city name.
Everyone has heard that,I almost spat at him. They probably knew my shoe size and blood type too.
“That’s correct.”
“And how did you two meet?” Alex pressed, glancing between us with undisguised curiosity.
Before I could formulatea response, Rory piped up beside me, that trademark mischievous glint in his eye. “Let’s just say it involved handcuffs.”
I laughed too loudly, the sound brittle and forced. “Oh, I do love his sense of humour,” I said, squeezing Rory’s forearm with barely disguised warning. “I’m afraid we actually met in a coffee shop.”
…boring…
Rory’s dismissive thought floated into my mind, clear as a bell, with an edge of challenge to it.
“The nicest little independent coffee shop,” I said, letting my eyes linger on Rory’s face. Something in me decided to throw caution to the wind—perhaps it was the absurdity of our situation, or maybe I just wanted to see Rory squirm.
“This little place with black and white striped cups,” I continued, watching recognition dawn in Rory’s eyes. “I used to go almost an hour out of my way each day just for the chance to bump into him.”
Beside me, Rory completely stilled. Even his thoughts, normally a constant barrage against my mind, had fallen silent.
“I saw him there every day for months before I worked up the courage to talk to him,” I continued, warming to my fabrication. “He’d always order these ridiculous concoctions—caramel this, extra whip that—while I stuck to plain black coffee.”
Rory’s mouth twitched as he clearly had to fight his instinct to correct me— in Killigrew Street meetings he always took his coffee black, like me, and mocked Felix for his cavity-inducing drink orders.
Alexander and Isla watched us with undisguised interest, clearly enjoying these romantic revelations.
“And even then, when I finally spoke to him, I pretended my phone had died and I needed to borrow his charger, rather than ask him out directly.” I shook my head, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Can you believe that? Me, a detective who interrogates hardened criminals for a living,completely tongue-tied by Rory.”
“I made him wait three more visits before I gave him my number,” Rory interjected. “He looked so sad, I eventually took pity on him, and asked him if he enjoyed activities other than staring at me in coffee shops.”
I reached for Rory’s hand, which lay motionless on the table. “I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I thought for sure he’d say no. That someone like him—funny, vibrant, full of life—wouldn’t look twice at someone like me.”
Rory remained frozen, his eyes fixed on me with an odd expression. For once in our acquaintance, I’d managed to render him completely speechless. No quip, no deflection, no rapid-fire commentary.
Isla made an “awww” noise, clasping her hands together. “That’s adorable.”
Rory’s gaze burned into the side of my face. The room seemed to shrink around us, the other dinner guests fading into background noise.
“What do you mean?” Rory finally asked.
