Page 40 of Changelings
In the melee of so many manticores over the past few weeks, she hadn’t gotten a chance to walk her land, sweeping for traps, like she often did. In winter, it was all the harder to do. She’d need to do a full sweep before the worst of the rain began.
“It’s a shame your markings only scare off bears, not Dermotts,” she mused, taking up her basket.
Balar caught her arm before she could follow Kiri and Shadow. “I have ways.” Holding her chin with a thumb and finger again, Balar lifted Imogen’s face so he knew she saw him when he said, “If anything happens again, you will tell me. Even the slightest hint of Dermott. I will take care of it.”
Fates, the way he said that…it set her to lusting almost as much as his kiss had. Was that normal?
Swallowing past her dry throat, Imogen said, “All right.”
She wasn’t entirely sure she meant it. She wanted to see Dermott fined, even arrested, for his actions. Not necessarily mauled to a pulp.
Still, another little thrill settled in her center to hear his voice all serious and determined.
I like it when he talks like that,she realized.Maybe too much.
15
Balar hustled down the path, regretting his decision not to fly. Yes, winging through the rain was never pleasant, but it was far faster than sprinting down a muddy path. Storm clouds darkened the sky above, and wind rattled the great trees. All sensible creatures had stayed in their dens and burrows that morning, but not him.
The rain beat against his face and shoulders, his oilskin cloak already overwhelmed. Cold rivulets found their way under the collar, soaking the back of his neck. His breath puffed in misty clouds in front of him as he jogged; he would’ve gone faster but had already learned that speed meant slipping.
His brothers had taken one look at the weather—“The first big one,”Diar had called it—and as one had shaken their heads when he asked whether they were coming today.
“Don’t go, seska,”Soren had said, even as Balar donned his cloak.“She’s sensible, she’ll have everything she needs.”
It was the wrong thing to say, implying that Imogen didn’t needhim. That wasn’t what Soren meant, he knew that, butBalar was in no mood to be reasonable. Ever since they’d come across that trap several days ago, he’d had an insistent itch below his fur. The continued threat to his mate, combined with finally getting a long, deep taste of her, had made Balar an impatient, aching male.
Something’s happening,he felt. It was more than the turning seasons. There was a change in the wind and in Imogen, too, he couldfeelit.
He couldn’t miss a day with her. Certainly notdays. He needed to keep this spark alive, stoke it into a flame.
And so Balar had set out, his brothers watching on from under their blankets like a bunch of ninnies.
The rain and wind had certainly made him earn this time with her. Balar grimaced at the feel of mud between his toe pads, the unpleasant squish making each step precarious.
His relief was total when he trotted into her meadow, the wet grass squelching beneath his feet. As he approached her door, he shook off the worst of the rain and mud, longing for the warmth peeking through the wooden shutters.
Keeping his hood low, he rapped his knuckles on the door.
It was a long few moments before it opened a crack, revealing a frowning, baffled Imogen. Or a sliver of her, at least.
“Balar! I didn’t think—what’re you doing here?”
“Come to see you, of course.”
“It’s storming outside!”
“Don’t I know it.” He peeked over her head at the warm interior of the cottage. “It wasn’t so bad when I started out,” he fibbed.
Imogen pursed her lips, perhaps not believing him, but then opened the door wider. “You’re soaked,” she noted as he stepped for the first time inside the cottage.
“And muddy,” he said, wincing as the muck ran from his legs onto the front mat.
Imogen winced, too. “Stay there.”
Shadow sat nearby to keep him company as their mistress hurried about, collecting a jug of water and a towel. He’d already begun to peel off his cloak by the time she returned.
“You can hang that up on the peg.” Taking a look at his shirt and kilt beneath, she added, “The rest should probably dry by the fire.”
