Chapter 4

Lucius

I paced inside the large, sprawling kitchen of my home and running my hands through the feathers that crowned my head. What had I done? I was crazy, I’d lost it. The last thing I needed was a visitor sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs. A human visitor at that. If she discovered my secret, she’d run away screaming, and with any luck she’d bring hordes wielding pitchforks down on my head.

My mind vividly conjured up the image of the young woman; it had already soaked up every detail it could hold onto. From the tumbling sable-colored hair, her pale, freckled skin, to the soft curves. My cock twitched in my pants at the recollection, and I leveled it with a fierce glare. No, I wasn’t going there. It was just a response to a female after all this time.

Ziv’s meow announced his arrival, and I jerked away from the counter. What was my cat up to? Then I heard shuffling, awkward footsteps and a soft voice swearing with each plodding step. Ah, no… She couldn’t see me, not like this. I started to back away from the kitchen, my wings pressed tightly against my spine, but then I changed my mind.

The amulet. Could I use that? It was burning in my pocket after I’d dug it out of my desk drawer earlier. I hadn’t used that talisman in so long that I wasn’t even sure it still worked. Vaguely, I recalled that magic needed to be fed, maintained, and cared for. I had done none of those things for the glowing golden disk, but it glowed. That was a good sign.

When the door to the kitchen in front of me opened, I had to make a split-second decision. I yanked the leather cord from my pocket and threw the worn string over my neck. The gold disk collided with my bare chest, tingling against my flesh. Its magic settled like a cloak over my skin—a cloak that was two sizes too small and made my wings ache as though they were trapped.

The young woman’s scent hit me first, all delicate notes and sweetness. Then she shuffled through the door on bare feet, and my first instinct was to rush over and pick her up. Her toes must have been cold on the stone tile of the kitchen floor, and she shouldn’t be walking on that badly sprained ankle.

Ziv was leading the way, quiet except for the initial warning meow he’d given me. I shot him a glare, which he ignored, and then focused on my unwelcome but oh-so-tempting guest. Her pale hair lay around her shoulders in a tangled, messy fashion. My hawk-like vision zeroed in on the details: a twig beneath her left ear and a small pale green leaf dangling from the tips. What was the protocol in this situation? Should I tell my guest about her dishevelment or not? My assistant would know the answer, but I wasn’t about to call Aries—I’d never hear the end of it.

She froze just beyond the door, staring at me with enormous hazel eyes from behind a delicate pair of glasses, her mouth open in surprise. “Oh, someone’s there!” she muttered quietly, and then, more loudly, she added, “Hey, are you the person who rescued me?”

I liked her voice; it was cheerful and firm. She wasn’t a wilting flower, but I already knew that from the way she’d stood up to those shifters earlier. She had fire, and given my nature, I was drawn to that fire. That was a very bad idea. Staying in this room was a bad idea, and letting her stay in my house was even worse. I had to get rid of her now!

I opened my mouth to tell her yes and then to firmly add that she had to leave, but she derailed me by smiling. “Thank you. I really appreciate the rescue.” She shuffled closer, and I had to clench my fists to stay rooted to the spot instead of helping her walk. She hid it, but I could tell it hurt her.

When she made it to the nearest bar stool on the other side of the kitchen island, I almost cheered out loud. No, this really wasn’t going the way it was supposed to go. Striving for my firm business persona, I crossed my arms over my chest and gave her a glare. “Yes, that was me. Why were you out in the woods that late at night anyway? Don’t you know how dangerous that is? You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

She stared at me, her lush bottom lip wobbling slightly as though she was about to cry. I bit my tongue and ignored the creeping and increasing discomfort the amulet was causing. The magic was working; otherwise, she would be running and screaming, not sitting down a few feet away from me. I couldn’t decide if I was trying to hold back more angry words or an apology at the sight of her impending tears, and that just made me angrier at the situation.

Then she opened her mouth, a giggle burst out, and my thoughts ground to a sudden halt. She clasped her fingers over her lips, but another giggle escaped anyway. The sound was high and feminine. It was a sound completely foreign to this kitchen, to this house even. It was a noise I hadn’t heard in so long that it made my chest ache with a sudden, fierce kind of homesickness. A longing that I had no place for, that could only bring more heartache.

“You’re a grumpy guy, aren’t you?” she said through her fingers. “It wasn’t my choice to wander the woods in the dark. I was kidnapped.” My heart dropped in my chest at those words. I spread my wings wide, fire tingling up my arms and pooling in my hands. All my protective instincts wanted to leap into the fray. They wanted me to fly back into the woods to locate that pair of shifters for another round.

The fire tore at the magic of the talisman, threatening to dispel the illusion that was putting my guest at ease. I took a deep, shuddering breath to get my feelings under control, and in that same breath, my guest continued talking, completely unaware of my inner turmoil. “I’m Ava,” she said. “And I really will get out of your way as soon as I can. Just point me in the right direction.”

The words did nothing to calm me, nothing at all. The thought that she was ready to step out into the darkness and vanish, never to be seen again, felt wrong. I growled and yanked open the nearest kitchen drawer for my first aid kit. It echoed in the room when I slammed it onto the counter, and my guest finally fell silent, staring at the red cross emblazoned on the kit in surprise.

“I’m Lucius,” I told her, drawing in a deep breath in an effort to sound calmer than I felt. “Let me see to your ankle.” That was the least I could do, and it wasn’t a battle with my instincts to give in to that urge. I wasn’t crossing any lines I shouldn’t by doing so; it’s what anyone would do. It still felt like an excuse to touch her.