Page 9 of Snag
Taps me.
On the shoulder.
Then I get a flickering sense, an impression, of a powerful woman with wildly curly light-blond hair touching the fence that separates the property from the main road. A large vehicle idles at the entrance to the estate, unable to cross through the boundary wards without permission despite the gate being fully open.
Gigi. And Coda.
“Fuck,” I groan.
“Unexpected company?” Rought asks against my lips, as if he too felt the tap.
“Expected.” I sigh. “And … needed.”
Smiling, he brushes his lips against mine once more, then slides me down his body until I find my feet. I force myself to step back, though it physically hurts to doso. My gaze falls on the photo behind him on the wall. On all the photos. I hesitate.
“You want me to grab these?” Rought asks, anticipating me. “You get your guests settled. I’ll put these in your bedroom?”
“That would be … that would be …” I blink away renewed tears. I’m still utterly overwhelmed— and now also ridiculously turned on.
He touches my shoulder lightly, turning away to grab the first photo.
I grab his hand. “Maybe come with me to meet Coda and Gigi, then we’ll grab these together. They … it’s okay if they see them. It doesn’t make any sense to keep this kind of info from Coda, from either of them. But Coda might want to set up in this room.”
Rought’s grin is warm and inviting. Pleased. As if I’ve done something spectacular. For him. He threads his fingers through mine and allows me to tug him out of the room.
I don’t look back at the photos. Hand cradled in Rought’s warm grasp, I latch onto thenow. I hold onto it tightly.
As we descend the inside stairs, then head out of the suite, I focus on the energy of the intersection point, willing it to accept Gigi and Coda, to allow them entry.
That is actionable.
That I can do without second-guessing myself, my past, or my future.
A big-rigblack truck towing what appears to be a shiny black cargo container speeds along the driveway toward us as if the driver is being chased by dire werewolves. Or is in desperate need of a hot shower and a comfy bed.
I lift my face to the misty rain, closing my eyes against the cloudy day because it’s still bright enough to hurt them. The chilly late-winter morning actually helps settle me. Though thankfully, it doesn’t dampen the kernel of gentle energy I can now feel free-floating in my chest. I press my hand against it, as if I can protect it from the elements. From myself and all my vast — possibly self-destructive — ability to push away anything that tries to touch me more than skin deep.
Rought squeezes my other hand lightly, and I open my eyes to confirm that he’s staring at me, eyes bright with his gryphon and a soft smile on his face.
And Iknow… I know I’ll never have to stand alone again, except by choice.
How did I not realize how desperately alone I was?
“It goes both ways,” he murmurs, as if he can read my mind. As if he can read me.
No one looks at me that closely. No one is allowed, either by myself or the greater universe, to look at me that closely.
I squeeze Rought’s hand back, though being gentle, intimate, doesn’t come at all naturally to me.
The photographs lining the walls of Mack’s second bedroom flit through my mind. Maybe it was once natural for me to … love? Then someone, something — the universe? — took that away from me. From Rought and me and—
“Breathe,” Rought whispers, raising his free hand to direct whoever is driving the truck.
I inhale steadily.
The truck is close enough now that I can see Gigi driving — her wild mane of light-blond curls and ever-perfect slash of red lipstick is a dead giveaway. Coda isn’t in the passenger seat, meaning the awry tech is no doubt hooked up to all their equipment in the trailer.
“Behind the barn, Zaya?” Rought asks. “I’ll have them back it in.”
