Kitten and Allure

He catches my gaze and arches his back a little so he can see the floor. “What are you looking at? Do you have more feathers?”
“Oh, ah,” I stammer, swallow hard, then try again. “How do you know I’m looking at something?”
“I don’t do the full range of emotions like Killian does – but I can feel desire easily enough. Was it my ass?”
He starts searching the kitchen before I can answer, opening every cupboard and drawer until he finds the larder – a small pantry with a few sacks of flour, potatoes, onions, that kind of thing.
“It’s just my Allure. You don’t actually have any say in what you lust for around me, and I don’t have the option of getting out of your range until the others catch up.”
He pulls a loaf of round bread out of a hanging bread bag and taps it on the bench, listening to the soft thuds. Baked no more than a few days ago… by the woman out on the rocks. My heart aches a little, but he just digs out a pot of jam and a serrated knife, cutting chunks and lathering them up before handing one to me and preparing to demolish three himself.
“Maybe I need to blindfold you,” he says, but his gaze traces my blanched face, down to my shaking fingers, and his expression softens.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern lacing his words.
What isn’t wrong? Let’s start with my bubble shrinking and the dead woman outside – actually, let’s just start with the dead woman.
“Was that?” I ask, waving vaguely toward the back of the house, toward the body on the rocks.
He swallows first before answering. “Eydis.”
“And they killed her?”
He nods, putting his bread down.
“Why?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Lithael’s killing them all.”
“Why? Are they a threat?”
“All of the ones he’s killing probably are – that would make sense.”
I pass my bread back to him, suddenly not sure I can even hold it properly.
“Are they coming back – the Sabers, I mean? They tore out her heart.”
Roarke steps closer, wrapping his arms around me. Pulling me in tight. One hand rests on the back of my neck and the other between my shoulder blades. So much for giving each other space – but I’m not going to tell him that. I really need this hug right now.
“No, they didn’t tear out her heart – we don’t know what happened there. But those Sabers aren’t coming back, and they won’t remember anything. We’re safe here for now.”
“Who took her heart then?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He steps back, gathers a water jug and a tray, then piles the bread and jam onto it before setting it all on the edge of the bench.
“Eat,” he says, shoving my piece of bread back at me. “Take it and eat it. We’re not going anywhere until you do.”
“It’s not that I’m not hungry,” I say, accepting the bread.
“I know,” he whispers, watching me take a bite before turning and leading the way back to the front door.
“What are we doing?” I ask, giving chase.
“The horses,” he says.
The horses. Right. Because I’m the worst horse owner ever born.
I follow him outside, closely – what choice do I have? When we reach the few steps off the veranda, I reach out and hook my arm through his to steady myself on the way down.
“What? It’s cloudy and dark, and I’m not sure how well you can see, but I’m not keen on tripping down a flight of stairs,” I say, not that he said anything.
“It’s almost midnight and a last quarter moon, but yes, even with the clouds I have eighty percent of my daytime vision. I’m guessing mortals don’t?”
“Um, try five percent.”
The noise he makes puts a smile on my lips, like surprise and intrigue mixed together. It’s a nice feeling, teaching the smartest Elorsin something new, even if it is at my own expense. Might also be at my own expense next time too, but something deep inside me decides that this moment is worth repeating. Worth hearing him make that little noise a million times more. He does make the cutest sounds.
The horses are by the stream, mine with his nose in the water and Roarke’s pawing at small shoots of grass nearby. And the only reason I can see that from a distance is because of the way the water glistens and lights up when the fish ripple the surface.
“Why does it do that?” I ask Roarke, letting go of his arm so I can finish off my bread.
“Phosphorus in the water, I guess.”
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur.
Roarke casually slips his fingers into the strappy-thing over his horse’s nose. The animal barely moves. Mine looks like he’s ready to run off, be free, never to be ridden again.
“Here, boy,” I coo, grabbing the reins quickly.
I am not playing chase-the-horse. My body is in that kind of weak state that hangs around after having the flu. It’s bearable, manageable, but not very nice. And the fact that I have one arm strapped to my chest compounds the growing feeling of claustrophobia that I’m living with. Chasing horses is not on the agenda.
With the reins slipped over my arm, I pat down the length of my horse’s silky neck, watching his unique color shimmer. He’s a dark brown, almost black on top, but there’s a cream color underneath.
I think that’s what I spend ninety percent of my riding time doing, patting his neck.
We turn to follow Roarke, but the man hasn’t moved. “Are you doing okay?”
I nod, stretching my neck back toward the blackened sky where there’s a single lonely star slowly being smothered by the clouds. Damn, these clouds are moving fast, rolling over the sky like they’re angry about something.
“Shade?” Roarke pushes. “Are you missing Pax?”
“Yes,” I mumble. “And Seth, and Killian too, though I feel like I will regret that feeling.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, soft with regret.
I pull my gaze down to him. “I’d miss you if you