Page 49 of Mated Exile

It reminds me of the bond between someone and a well-loved dog, or the way Cat looks at a loaf of bread rising on the counter. Something is being tended to, encouraged to change and grow.

As the energy in Bastian sinks into the lavender plant, its buds stretch out, and it grows at least a few inches all at once. Bastian grins at me—and before I can stop myself, I reach towards him as well, my senses pulsing outward.

I recoil the instant they do, not because I chose to, but because it's like Islammedinto a brick wall. Jerking back, I stare up at him in shock, and he stares back at me in utter confusion.

"What's wrong? I know I didn't explain much of it, but it's just a simple charm. You just think happy thoughts and put some of that into the plant while you touch it."

He looks distinctly unhappy, and unaware that I just threw my senses at him, so I shake myself off. "It's amazing, Bastian. I was just surprised is all. I guess I expected more words or ceremony to go with the spell."

"A lot of kitchen witchery is just about feelings." Shrugging his wide shoulders, he sets the plant down on the windowsill and rubs his hands together shyly. "There's not much that I know, and none of it would help with the curse, but maybe I could show you ways to strengthen the land. Even lone wolves can commune with nature."

"That would be wonderful," I tell him, reaching out to squeeze his arm. My eyes widen at the strength and muscle I feel beneath my touch, breath hitching. "You're really amazing, Bastian."

Stepping back, he draws away until my hand no longer touches him. "It's nothing," he murmurs, his eyes pained. "I'm really not that great."

I step back, stomach churning, feeling as if I've done something wrong. A moment later I realize—of course he's upset I touched him. After so long with the vamps, things constantly being done to him without even the tiniest bit of consent, he probably doesn't want me coming along and just casually putting my hands on him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." Bastian swallows and gives me a tremulous smile. "I just don't take compliments well, I guess."

"You should work on that," I joke.

"I'll try." A moment passes. "We can work on the land soon, if you'd like?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," I tell him, calculating my to-do list's length. "Tonight we're going to patrol for vampires. Just me and the others—you can stay here and rest, of course."

"I'm glad to help out."

I want to reassure him, but I don't want to touch him, so I twist my fingers together instead. "You will be. Just stay here with Cat, and make sure she doesn't get into too much trouble." I quickly add, "And I'll tell her not to touch you."

He frowns. "Why would you?"

"Because you don't like being touched."

"It doesn't bother me." Shrugging his shoulders, he murmurs, "Better than being thrown into the arena."

"Right. Okay."

Thoroughly confused, I watch him retreat to the hallway with a murmured goodbye, my mind racing. After he's just out of sight, I dare to reach out my awareness to him, instinct and curiosity overriding my caution.

Once again, I hit the wall—harder this time. So hard I wince and step back, leaning against my bookcase, eyes wide and breath hissing through my teeth.

I thought I knew who and what Bastian was when I brought him into my home.

Now I'm not so sure.

Twenty-One

Delilah

As the sun sets, I find myself in the kitchen, full of restless energy. The guys and I finished painting the living room and downstairs bedrooms today. Most of what's left is some work in the kitchen and bathrooms, which will only take a day or two—and then we have to work on the upstairs, where memories of my father reside.

Once the work was done, they went to their respective homes to change and have dinner, but are coming back for vamp patrol. I can't help but feel restless. Though Bastian and I only escaped from the vampire coven a few days ago, I expected them to have shown up by now. Surely they've figured out where we might have gone.

It should relieve me that they haven't attacked the house again, but it doesn't. I can't shake the feeling that it just means they're gearing up for something worse. There's no way they went to all that effort to nab me only to let me slip between their fingers.

So I make tea, while in the living room, Cat walks Bastian through several of the last decade's best sitcoms, at least according to her. I'm glad for her presence here. I know she's had to stretch herself thin, at least when it comes to work. While the guys and I fix up the house, I hear her sometimes in the office or on the back porch, taking calls and delegating with precision. Soon enough she'll have to leave, and I'll be all on my own in this big lonely house.

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