Page 31 of Tangled Threads Of Fate

Nate gave her a charming smile, which honestly tended to fry the brain cells of anyone with a pulse, and walked outside after me. I sipped my cold milk, trying not to turn my head back up the road toward the fortress. The sun was warm but not overbearing, and I let it soak into my pale skin.

The golden threads were whipping around Nate, stronger than they normally were. I frowned and turned back to the woman in the cafe. Actually, the streaks of golden light were strong around her too. Even the dog had soft golden strands across its shaggy white fur. This town was definitely weird, and I understood what Nate meant now. I’d just been too caught up in the feeling in my chest, but there was an element of wrongness about this place.

The elderly Greek lady brought out our lunch, which made my mouth water. I was starving. No one seemed to eat a full breakfast in Crete. I’d only had a couple of pastries for breakfast, and the babies were eating through my energy stores at a rapid rate.

I dipped some fluffy bread in olive oil that didn’t taste anything like the olive oil from the grocery store shelves back home. It was something else. I moaned, and Nate’s eyes heated, like he was remembering last night.

Hell, now I was remembering last night, and my skin started to tingle with need.

Shaking his head, Nate stood, leaning down to kiss my temple. “I’m just going to have a look around. Don’t move from this spot, okay?”

I chewed my lip. “Okay.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I mean it, Wren. Eat your lunch, but don’t leave right here. Promise?”

Sighing, I nodded. “I promise.”

He gave me a stern look, which kind of made me want to bend over and tell him I’d been a bad, bad girl, but before I could, he stepped out onto the street with his hands in his pockets, looking like a tourist as he walked down the road, checking things out.

I watched him go and then went back to devouring my lunch. The huge white dog from beside the door came over and ploppedhis blocky head on my lap, looking up at me with so much longing, there was no way I could resist giving him a little piece of hard cheese.

A deep chuckle had me looking over my shoulder. A grizzled man stepped beneath the trellis, his floppy hat clutched in his hand. He said something in rapid Greek, and I shook my head.

“I’m sorry. I can only speak English.”

He nodded sagely. “I was saying that he likes you.”

I scratched the dog’s ear. “Is he yours?”

The old man shook his head, and the dog looked over his shoulder at the man like he was interested in his answer too. “No, Cy belongs to no one. He is, er… the village dog, yes? He comes and goes as he pleases, and we all take care of him.”

Cy huffed and looked back up at me with those big brown eyes full of pleading, and I gave him a piece of my meat.

The old man laughed again. “Well, we are all stupid for him. He looks up at you, and then you feed him. That’s why he’s so round.” The man banded his arms out in front of him and puffed out his cheeks. “He needs a little less care, I think.” He leaned over and scratched Cy’s fur at the base of his tail, making it wag faster, even if the dog seemed slightly annoyed at being called chunky. “You’re a tourist?”

I nodded, inviting the man to sit down opposite me. “Yes, we’re staying down in Heraklion. My boyfriend has just gone for a stroll.”

First rule of traveling: don’t end up in a horror movie by insinuating you’re alone in a tiny village with a weird vibe, where no one would ever find your body.

The old man smiled, and the cafe owner came out to put his own lunch plate in front of him, as well as a glass of wine. She spoke to him in rapid Greek, her eyes darting between me and the empty chair where Nate should be. The old man shrugged, and the woman huffed as she strode off.

“Your wife?”

The man snorted. “Niece.”

Considering the woman had to be pushing seventy, I wondered how old that made the man. His streaks seemed almost faded, more like a bronze than a gold. “Ah.”

“How are you liking the island? Amourgeles?”

I gave him a smile. “It’s beautiful. Feels like coming home.” I realized that was the closest description I had for the tug in my chest. Like I was so close to home, and I could feel it. But I didn’t tell the old man that—it sounded absolutely insane.

“Sometimes, the gods maneuver us where we need to be, but free will has other ideas, no?”

Man, this guy had no idea. In my case, itwasliteral Gods. Or monsters, at least.

As we ate, we chatted about everything. About life on the island, about the best Greek food, about his family. He had eight children, though only one or two still lived on the island and none lived in Amourgeles anymore.

After I’d finished off the food, having fed most of the cheese to Cy the Dog, Nate returned. He cast a wary eye at the old man. “Nate, this is… I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

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