A bargain was what we said it was, and a mate bond was one more arbitrary act of fate. A destin noir.
“She’s gone,” said the man selling white liquor. “The witch.”
I turned to face him. “Do you know where she went?”
“Didn’t say. Other than she said you’d come looking for her.” He reached beneath his counter, pulled out an object made of sticks. “Left this for you, girl. Best you take it.”
I stared at the effigy of the Bone Woman. “I don’t want it.”
“She said you’d say that, too. When you did, I was supposed to tell you the answer you came for is in this…” He flicked the effigy with his forefinger until it skidded toward me. “Toy.”
My fingers trembled when I picked it up; a chilling frisson raced across my palm. I thanked him, closed my fingers around the sticks, and turned, pushing through the crowd toward the exit.
The blast of chilled air was clarifying.
So was the view.
Across the snowy, red-paved square, Grayson was crossing the street. He did not differ from the many in the crowd, except for the woman that he carried in his arms. The woman with her head resting against his chest, as if she’d rested against him many, many times before.
Lila Salas.
CHAPTER 27
Grayson
“Lila,” I said as I carried her the last few steps to the icy curb. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I’m perfectly capable of walking in snow, Grayson.”
Stress tightened her voice and her body. She struggled to keep her walking crutch from whacking my knee. The floral scent of her perfume was the same fragrance from years ago: orange blossoms and jasmine. I’d bought it for her.
My throat clenched as I held Lila steady, waiting while she regained her footing. Strands of russet hair clung to my arm as if reluctant to let go. When she pressed her body against mine, the soft curves slid naturally into place.
Lila shifted slightly, pressing with her hips, her breasts, the way she’d always held me. I waited until she pulled away. Recognized the wave of disappointment running through her when I didn’t stop the withdrawal.
“How are you?” Two years had passed since we’d last talked, and I expected recriminations. They weren’t forthcoming, perhaps an encouraging sign. She hadn’t changed, looked the same youthful age she’d been before—I stopped the ruminations and studied her face.
Her hair and eyes were like Anson’s, but her features were feminine. Straight nose, perfect cheekbones. Lush mouth that revealed more emotion than she preferred.
She kept her head turned so I wouldn’t focus on her scars. Deliberately, I cupped her cheek, stroked a thumb against the uneven, puckered skin close to her hairline. “Don’t hide this.”
“The time when you told me what to do ended long ago,” she murmured.
I dropped my hand. “I’m glad you’re working as a healer again.”
“I’m sure you’ll need me with the looming war.” Her fingers tightened, relaxed, tightened again as she gripped the handhold on the crutch. The forearm band pressed against her bare skin. She’d come without a coat.
“You’re cold,” I said.
Her smile was tight. “I’m fine. Pure wolf.”
I ignored the veiled implication, focused on the distress hardening in her voice. “You should rest more.”
“Doesn’t seem possible these days.” She rubbed at her arm, where the skin had reddened. “I get the reports, too. I’m head of the medical division now, so everything crosses my desk. The request for supplies, the estimated beds needed. Resources. I was going to talk to my brother about it. But I suppose I can talk to you, since you’re in on the planning.”
“The threat is coming out of Cariboo, Lila. We didn’t start it.”
“But you’re very good at it. The fighting.” Her smile turned fragile and sparkling. “I hear you have an amazing designation.”
