Page 70 of Fated Exile

Just as I'm digging into my chicken, the marinated meat sliding over my tongue, Lance leans over and lowers his voice to speak to me. "Have you thought at all about the idea of an addition to the house?"

I blink at him, chewing a little and swallowing eagerly. The baked chicken nearly sticks in my throat before sliding down to settle in my empty stomach. Over Lance's shoulder, I spot Kerry in the kitchen, chatting merrily with Cat and seemingly not at all starving. Niall slings his arm around my foster mother's shoulders, and I avert my eyes before I can let a growl of something like protectiveness slide from my traitorous throat.

"An addition?" It takes me a moment to even understand what Lance is saying. "There are already three bedrooms in the house. Four if you count the study, which is where Aunt Kerry slept last night. I guess she might be staying permanently, but once Cat leaves..."

I trail off, finally understanding what Lance is suggesting. Grabbing my fork, I shove a large roasted carrot slice into my mouth so I can spend some time chewing instead of answering the unasked question that lays beneath his words.

Sounding half-amused and half-resigned, Lance says, "So I guess that means youhaven'tthought about living together."

I take my time to swallow. "I've been a little busy," I admit, voice pitched low. "I mean, I know Bastian lives here, but he doesn't really have another option, and Iswearhe sleeps in his own room. Besides, don't you think it's... fast?"

"Fast?" He arches a dark brow, thick amusement on his face, the same emotion sliding through the bond between us. "Delilah, I canfeelyour panic as you scramble to come up with a way to get out of this conversation. Last night, while you were with the others after me, your arousal was pretty clear, too. And just a bit ago, I know that I lent you my strength."

"Yes," I agree hesitantly, moving my food around on my plate, "that—that happened."

"I fail to see how living together would be fast, then, since we already live inside each other's heads."

Swallowing, I glance around. Roarke is in animated conversation with Kieran, who's moved his chair over to sit opposite him. Finn is digging into dessert, and Bastian is chatting with Kerry, who's perched on a chair next to him with her own lunch. The house feels alive, electric—and I have to admit, I don't mind being surrounded by so many people I care about.

Still, as I point out to Lance, "There isn't really room in the house for all that."

"Which is why I proposed an addition," he says, pouncing into the opening I left behind. "I mean, just think about it. We could help you finance it and build. It would only take a couple more bedrooms and maybe one or two bathrooms—enough for some breathing room. Then there'd be room for all of us."

I don't know how to say no, and I'm not sure I want to. Having the guys here, together, is like something I'd never even thought to dream of—it's just that nice. The only thing holding me back is the fear that, once pushed under one roof together, they'd stop getting along.

I can already feel it simmering beneath the surface, spreading through the room: tension. Little cracks that show beneath the surface, bits of jealousy and desire that could grow and fester with the slightest provocation. It's there in the sidelong glance Lance shoots Bastian, in the furtive look on Kieran's face when he looks at Roarke, the desire in Bastian's frame as he leans towards Finn. They're each precious to me in their own way, and I worry that if I force them together too soon, I'll lose them all.

"Let's defeat the serial killer trying to take us all out, then think about it," I tell Lance, effectively kicking the can very far down the road. "If we all survive, we can build five houses out back for all I care."

Then I put as much food on my fork as possible, and fill my mouth so that there's no more talking, or thinking, to be done.

* * *

"We're looking for a particular kind of tree," Kerry says, pushing aside a low branch and stepping across dead leaves and fallen sticks. "It's an evergreen tree with long, thin boughs. It should be tall, very green and sturdy, with chanterelles growing beneath it. It grows in moist conditions. A Western Hemlock tree, not to be confused with the poisonous hemlock herb, since you'll be chewing on this charm to activate it."

I scan the distant horizon, finding a place where tall evergreens like the one Kerry describes grow. "There's a grove down that way, near the lake."

"Then that's the way we'll go."

Despite her recently-healed injuries, Kerry makes her way across the forest floor quickly, her movements faster than I'm used to from a human. There's an eerie glow about her; she must be using some kind of energy or speed spell. We reach the evergreen trees in a matter of minutes. Once we do, Kerry gazes up at their thin boughs and makes a noise of satisfaction.

Then she tells me, "Climb the tallest tree and strip a fresh, new bough from its branch, peeling back the needles to ensure there's green beneath the bark."

I blink at her. "You do know that I'm a werewolf, right? Not a weresquirrel?"

"So I've heard." She grins at me, and arches a brow. "Now climb the tree, or your old auntie will have to do it, and you'll be shamed to see how fast I am. Or were younotthe kind of girl who shimmied to the highest branches on a dare?"

I was exactly that kind of girl; both Roarke and Kieran can testify. We used to spend long spring afternoons under the shade of the old forest trees, goading each other to go faster, higher, until the thin upper branches of the trees we climbed bowed and bent beneath us.

Finding the tallest evergreen I can, I shove beneath its branches and dig my booted toes into the trunk. Unwinding my belt, I throw it around the thick bark of the trunk and clasp either end of it, so I won't have to scrape my palms going up the rough surface. It's heavy work making my way up, inch by inch, so I tap into the she-wolf inside me, letting her wild strength suffuse my limbs and push me onward.

Thankfully Kerry doesn't make me climb very far before she calls up, "That's high enough. Strip a branch and toss it down."

Grabbing my utility knife, I flick it open and select a thin, young branch. I shift my weight back onto a thicker neighboring branch and grab hold of it. It cuts easily beneath my grasp, sap running where my knife slices. I peel back some of the needles and spot teeming, fresh life beneath the brown surface of the wood. It's too young and green to burn, but will apparently do for whatever Kerry has in mind.

I toss the branch down to her. She catches it in midair, wraps her fingers around it, and closes her eyes. Something passes from her, down to the earth, back up to the branch again. I feel energy swirl and snap in the air, and I swear the tree takes a breath beneath my touch, as if it senses my witchy aunt grasping a recently-severed piece of its body.

"This'll do," she says brightly, motioning me down. "Now to put the things you've learned today together. You'll be pulling energy out of yourself, targeting it into this branch, and storing it for later."

---