Page 17 of The Eagle and the Shrew

He shook his head. “No. Not really,” he added quickly, not wanting her to know that her touch was a drop of water to a dehydrated person. He craved it. No—he needed it.

Her soft fingertips wrapped the splint around his arm, strapping it to his body to help immobilize the limb. Anson’s heart fluttered being close to her. His eyes were drawn to her soft curves, yet he looked away. He feared she would notice his excitement and was even more afraid of what it could mean. How could it impact the constant battle within him for coming completely clean or only giving enough information to give the illusion of helping? Why was he protecting the scumbag who held his sister captive? The more he became close to Nari, the less it made sense.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nari’s voice was a soft caress on his ear.

“Yes. I’m fine,” he whispered, his tight chest unable to produce enough air for anything louder.

“Can I see your face?” After he nodded, Nari gently put a knuckle to his chin to tilt his head toward her. She delicately wiped a cotton swab wet with some sort of ointment across his forehead. “It looks like these healed overnight. There aren’t even scabs left on most of them.” A tingling sensation sparked by her touch meandered across Anson’s skin. It sent goosebumps down his arms that had nothing to do with the chill in the morning air. Nari must have noticed because she added, “It’s damp in here this morning. The logs I put on last night are almost gone. I’ll rekindle the fire with the coals that are left.”

Anson wanted to tell her not to worry, just to keep her next to him a moment longer. His dry throat would not let his voice work. Nari got up, wove her way around the long coffee table toward the cast iron wood-burning stove over by the far wall. The warmth from her thigh touching his still lingered after she rose from the couch. He put his hand on it, wanting to touch her but being too shy to open up about his feelings. He’d have to be careful, or she’d start to notice.

“So, Agents Sparks and Stone, they’re a thing?” he asked, having picked up a vibe.

“Yeah.” Nari chuckled. “They really complement each other. Grayson grounds her in a way I thought no one ever would.”

“But… FUC and ASS? You told me they don’t get along.” He supposed that was just part of the package of lies she’d served him.

“That’s not a lie,” she said quickly, turning to face him. “Our agencies don’t work together on cases. There’s some generational rivalry and big egos that don’t allow it. But that doesn’t mean every agent feels that way. There are quite a few ASS agents who have defected to the dark side now.”

“The dark side? You mean FUC?” He let out a chuckle.

She shrugged and laughed. “That’s basically how they’re thought of at the aerie—our ASS headquarters down in Australia.”

“But FUC accepts the ASS agents? Lets them work for them?” At her nod, he continued, “Have any FUC agents ever gone to ASS?”

“Heavens no!” Nari laughed loudly at that. “They’d never be accepted in the aerie. I imagine there would be a full-on revolt if anyone ever suggested it. Besides, the infrastructure of the aerie is meant for flying creatures.”

“Do you miss it?” he asked, suddenly aghast at the idea of her going back.

Nari sat back on her heels and looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I thought I’d miss it more, but it’s been refreshing being out here. FUC is a lot more lenient with their agents.”

The sentiment brought a wave of relief to Anson, but he tried to shake off the thoughts that were building. He couldn’t have feelings for Nari—for an ASS agent currently working for FUC! Anson was technically a criminal in FUC custody. He had no business crushing on Nari.

Anson hung his head. How could he let things get this far with Dr. Grimm? He’d never thought he’d be arrested. And for helping a mad scientist of all things. It wasn’t that he was upset he’d been caught. He was upset he’d stooped to the level that he had. Breaking the law to get his sister back. Terrorizing people and aiding Grimm so he could hurt them. What had he become?

A pain that had nothing to do with the injury to his ribs spiderwebbed across his chest. It was the consequences his choices led him to. Regardless of it being an act of love to save his sister, how many other shifters and people were hurt in his wake? Was he no better than Grimm? Anson wasn’t sure anymore.

Anson cleared his throat, doing his best to swallow the guilt. He leaned his head against the back of the couch, not even taking the time to think about how dusty or gross that fabric stretched across the wooden bones of the furniture could be. With a sigh, he decided he couldn’t tell Nari a thing about how he felt about her. He didn’t deserve a woman like her.

10

There was some sort of war playing out behind Anson’s green eyes when Nari glanced at him. She wondered if he was still on the fence about helping them find Grimm. She knew he wanted Ariel back; Grimm was a different story. She wondered if this was similar to Stockholm syndrome, where a hostage bonded with their captor. Maybe she was reading too much into the way Anson was expressing his body pain through facial features. Something seemed up. And she just hoped Anson would be willing to open up to her.

Worried there was something he wasn’t telling her, Nari turned back to analyze his posture for clues. Anson leaned back on the couch, a look of defeat wrinkling his beautiful features.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer. She had a feeling any pain Anson was experiencing was of the emotional sort.

Her question piqued the interest of the seasoned agents in the kitchen. Though they appeared to be very busy making what smelled like an omelet, Nari was certain Agent Stone had his hound ears eavesdropping in on their conversation. And Agent Sparks seemed far too interested in the neatly arranged spices on the counter. Though her peahen ears couldn’t hear better than a human’s, Nari supposed she was listening in as well. Not that they were difficult to overhear; the kitchen was nearly in the living room.

Deciding to play it safe—for all she knew, she was misinterpreting the whole situation—she crossed the room back to Anson. “Do you need an ice pack?” She tilted her head, taking him in. His eyes squinted shut as if in pain, and his mouth twisted into a grimace, but she was almost certain it wasn’t from how his body felt. She couldn’t put her talon on it, but she had a feeling. An instinctive drive that told her something else was going on. And it pained her to see him like this. Was it worry for his sister? From her understanding of his case, Anson hadn’t seen Ariel in over a year.

“It’s just a cramp,” he uttered through clenched teeth, turning his face away from her.

“Let me get an ice pack. It could?—”

“No,” he said far more forcefully than necessary.

She jumped back in surprise. “I just want to help.” Nari held up her hands in surrender. Whatever Anson was thinking, she knew it wasn’t her fault, yet she felt a tinge of guilt all the same. What if her stunt cost them finding Ariel? Was that why Anson seemed angry with her?

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