Page 17 of Dark Embers

But I couldn’t ask any of the questions running through my mind. There was a lump in my throat preventing me from voicing them.

So I changed tack. “What was it like growing up as a human?”

She turned to me with a cute wrinkle in her nose, blinking at me several times.

“I don’t know how to answer that.” She laughed and frowned. “It’s the only thing I ever knew. What was it like growing up as a shifter?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Okay, fair point. Although, my upbringing wasn’t really normal for most shifters.”

She nodded. “I think we can agree that we have that in common. We were both raised in gilded cages. Mine was built of obscure rules, and yours of strict expectation.”

Her words struck me. She might be the first person who could really understand me and where I came from. We were so different, and yet, the similarities were masterful in their intricacy. Our eyes met, and I had never felt so seen.

So naturally, I looked away.

Keep it physical. Don’t get too close.

The train mercifully slowed, and I jumped out of my seat before it came to a full stop. Why was it so difficult to be alone with her? I was either tempted to rip her clothes off or melt into those ocean-blue eyes like a love-sick puppy.

Thank goodness we were going to a public place, outside, with no intimate confined spaces. However, I was getting less and less confident that any number of onlookers or any amount of distance would keep her safe from me—or me from her.

Chapter 7

Tobias

Though City Mini Golf wasn’t far from our train exit, the walk there seemed to take an eternity.

I did my best to keep the conversation light and noncommittal, asking her mundane questions about the kind of music or movies she liked. I had expected she’d be the typical girl into rom-coms and pop bands, but just as everything else with Arya Walker, I’d been wrong.

Her tastes were similar to mine. We both liked all genres of rock, and her favorite band—Disturbed—was my second favorite. And where she appreciated the odd romantic or slapstick comedy, she preferred thrillers and suspense movies.

“The Insidious movies were good, but I think The Conjuring world is so much better,” she said as we crossed the intersection toward the golf course. “The Walkers are kinda my heroes.”

I laughed while secretly clenching my fists. Could she be any more perfect?

Maybe I was thinking about this all wrong. Niko and Brett liked the same movies and music I did, to an extent. What if I just thought of her as a guy friend?

One who I wanted to fuck so badly it hurt. And cuddle while I slept. And who smelledreallydamn good!

Fuck!

“This place looks fun,” she said as we approached the colorfully lit entrance. “I feel it’s only fair I warn you that I’ve never golfed in any way before, so I’ll probably suck.”

Her giggle chimed in the wind that carried her honey scent to my nostrils, and I made a conscious effort to breathe through my mouth to avoid savoring it. If nothing else, I had to do something to make her smell less appealing.

“Let’s grab a bite to eat first,” I suggested as I held the door open for her. “They have a snack bar with pretty decent food. Their garlic fries are great.”

She arched a playful eyebrow at me. “Really? You’re recommending I eat something that doesn’t contain fish or seaweed? No omega threes?”

I shrugged, charmed by her teasing. “Didn’t you know that fries are vital to every shifter’s diet?”

She nodded exaggeratedly. “Sure, they are.”

We went to the snack bar, and I was beyond relieved that she did, in fact, order the garlic fries. I ordered buffalo wings in the hottest flavor they carried, hoping the burn on my taste buds would distract me with discomfort.

We sat at one of the picnic tables to eat, and damn if she wasn’t sexy while she ate. The way she delicately placed each long fry into her mouth. The sultry way she sucked her fingers now and then. And the way she hummed in satisfaction at a particularly tasty bite. No amount of hot sauce on the planet could distract me from that.

By the end of our meal, my mouth was on fire, and I was sweating from the intensity of it, and yet my desire to press mylips to hers was no less intense than before—if anything, it had been amplified.

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