Page 341 of Primal Bonds

She gave a jerky nod. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s even true. It’s hard to believe they’re really alive, since I can’t see or talk to them.”

“It’s true.” He crouched to squeeze her shoulder. “Marjani spoke to your mom herself. She was fine, and so was your dad. They just have to serve out the terms of their geas and then they’ll be home.”

“I know.” She grimaced and touched his arm. “But hey, I know I shouldn’t complain. At least I’ll see them again someday.”

“Yeah.” He glanced away.

She fingered the carving. “These are really beautiful. I don’t know anyone who can work stone like this.” She stood back up, and he rose with her. They were crowded together on the same step. She met his eyes. “You’re not what I expected.”

“It’s just a hobby,” he muttered. He set a hand on her lower back, urging her to continue down the stairs. “Now, get going. I still want to know what the fuck you’re doing here.”

But he’d lost control of the situation, if he’d ever had it.

Rosana acted as if she were an invited guest instead of a not-so-welcome trespasser, exclaiming over each carving as they continued down the two flights to his den. He had to admit, he enjoyed showing his carvings to her. They even discussed possible designs for the last few steps.

And when they entered his apartment she didn’t feel like a trespasser. She felt right. Like she belonged there.

Her eyes widened as the amber sconces in the foyer glowed on. “Those are powered by quartz?”

He nodded.

“Cool.”

He guided her into the living room and tossed his jacket on a chair. The gun clattered to the stone floor. Rosana didn’t even blink, but his cheeks heated.

“It’s not mine.” He set it on the mantelpiece. “I took it off a human kid before he hurt himself.”

“I saw. And I heard you send him to that restaurant for food. That was nice of you.”

“Yeah, I’m a real philanthropist. So. Why are you here?”

A secretive little smile. “Maybe I just couldn’t stay away.”

Setting her backpack on the floor, she peeled off her gloves, then removed her knit hat and hoodie and dropped them on his jacket. She was all in black. No high-heeled boots this time; instead, she wore short moto boots. He couldn’t help noticing how good her ass looked in the tight black jeans. Almost as good as her breasts in the ribbed sweater.

He swallowed. Hard.

She turned back and caught him looking. Their gazes snagged. It was her turn to swallow.

“I’m sorry about your hand.” She reached for it and turned it over to view the damage, and for some reason he didn’t shake her off. She clucked her tongue at the blisters forming on his palm and first three fingers. “You should soak it in salt water.”

He pulled his hand from hers. “It’s okay. The blade didn’t even break the skin.” If it had, the iron would already be poisoning his blood.

She rolled her eyes and muttered something about hardheaded men. “Come on. I’ll prepare a salt water soak for you.”

Bemused, he followed her into his kitchen and watched as she prepared a solution of salt and warm water. She set the bowl on the table and ordered him to sit. “Put your hand in the bowl.”

Why not? He shrugged and obeyed, and then sucked in a breath as the salt bit into the wound. But within a few seconds, the pain eased. To help it along, he pulsed some energy from his quartz to the injury. He wasn’t a healer, but he had a minor ability to heal. The blisters began to recede.

“Better?” She took the seat across from his.

He nodded and reluctantly tacked on a thanks. “Now, about why you’re here—”

She gave him a sunny smile. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”

“Would you like a drink?” he said between his teeth.

“Yes, please. But don’t get up,” she said airily when he started to remove his hand from the bowl. “I can get it.” She opened the quartz-powered cooling unit and peered at the nearly empty shelves. “You don’t entertain much, do you?”

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