Page 63 of Primal Bonds

“Yeah. Name’s Kyler. He and his sister need a place to stay.”

“Help yourself, bro.” Beau waved a massive hand at the spare bed.

“Thanks.” Kyler set his backpack at the foot of the bed.

Jace left them to it and opened the door to his own room. His dad had left the walls uncovered. Three fae lights glowed to life, casting a soft yellow hue over the worked gray stone.

It was a plain, masculine room, save for the colorful Native American rug at the foot of the bed; the room of a man who lived alone. Other than the large oak bed, the only furniture was a chair and a nightstand with another of the large chunks of quartz his mother had brought back from her tours overseas. This one had come from Morocco, where his mom still had a few relatives, her family having migrated from North Africa to Jamaica several centuries ago. It was a piece of art—an oblong tower of white calcite encrusted in places with silver crystals and a darker gray mineral running through the center.

“I thought it would be damp,” Evie said, “like a cave. But it’s warm. And I love the rug.”

“My great-grandma wove the rug. Dad was part Cherokee.”

“It’s beautiful.” Evie crouched to trace a finger over the red, green and black pattern.

“Our cats don’t like the cold, so we have heating coils set in the floor. Actually, the wolves don’t either. The bears don’t give a shit, but they’re in the minority.”

She gave a gurgle of laughter and rose back to her feet. “I can’t imagine anyone telling Beau what to do.”

“You don’t. But like I said, he doesn’t care. It takes a lot to rile Beau.”

“I like him already.” The fae lights drifted toward her and her eyes widened. “Are those what I think they are?”

“Fae lights? Yeah. I did a sun fae a favor and she gifted them to me.”

She stretched a hand toward one of the glowing balls, and to Jace’s surprise, it floated down and slid over her palm as if welcoming her.

“I can feel it.” She turned awed eyes on him. “It’s warm and a little tingly.”

“Tap it, and it will shut off.”

She obeyed and the light winked out.

“You can leave it on while you’re sleeping if you want—it will sense how much light you need and power down.”

“Wow.” She tapped the light a second time, and it glowed back on and wafted its way toward the ceiling.

“You can put your stuff in there.” He indicated the closet. “Feel free to take a shower if you want.”

She nodded. “I really appreciate this. I hate to put you out—”

Her gaze went to the large unmade bed in the center of the room. It was a tangle of sheets and the red print bedspread he’d bought because it didn’t show dirt. He hadn’t expected to be bringing anyone home.

She glanced at him and he just knew her mind had gone the same place as his: the two of them nestled in the sheets, bodies joined.

Not tonight.

He’d brought her here to protect her, not fuck her. You didn’t take advantage of a woman like that. And his knife wound—the deeper one—was throbbing.

But he could almost taste her nipples in his mouth, feel her fingers digging into his shoulders, her body moving with his.

She dragged a hand over her hair, ruffling the short blond strands.

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

“What?” Her pupils were big and dark, the irises a rich brown shot with gold.

“Sleeping in the living room. I can change to my jaguar and curl up on a cushion.”

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