small drop of the Heirs’ arrogance. “We know where they are. We can stop them—use magic against them.”
“I’ve none to use,” she answered. “The code of the Blades demands that Blades may only use magic that is theirs by birth or gift.”
“Damned inconvenient,” he muttered.
“It can be.”
“You’re not a Blade anymore,” he pointed out.
Hell. The prohibition of magic use was deeply ingrained into all Blades. She’d forgotten that their code no longer applied to her. Astrid knew it was inscribed in her very blood, no matter how much she wished otherwise.
“Just be cautious,” she said instead. He gave a clipped nod. Even though the Heirs were nipping at their heels, she needed to think of something else. “Take care with rabbit,” she advised him. “They are too lean to live on. You can gorge yourself on them and still starve to death. Be sure to eat enough fat. Even pure suet, if you must.”
He looked at her without hiding his interest. “You know a hell of a lot about living out in the wilderness.”
“If I did not, I would be dead.”
“And did you know as much, before you came to the Territory?”
She gave a noncommittal shrug. “I knew some things.”
“What brought you out here?”
Astrid glowered. “This is the edge of nowhere, and you’re cross-examining me.”
He refused to look abashed. In truth, he appeared downright arrogant. “I studied law for three years and took up at the firm right after that. Nobody argued a case better than me. Even ones that others thought unwinnable. I helped a Chinese laborer with settlement against a white banker who cheated the laborer of his savings. Everyone was sure the banker would win. The Chinese have hardly any rights in Victoria. But the banker lost, because I got the truth out of him. I always do.”
She believed all of that. She felt her own truths laid bare before him. And as for arguing, she and Lesperance did that very well.
It would be better if she kept quiet, if she knew as little about him as possible, yet she could not stop herself. “Will you go back to Victoria, go back to the law, after all this?”
Arrogance fell away as he considered his options. “I’d be the only wolf in the courtroom.”
“I’ve heard that lawyers are jackals.”
A corner of his mouth turned up, wry. “Then it could be my advantage. Wolf beats jackal.” He shook his head at the fancy. “Maybe I can’t return. Maybe I won’t be able to find other Earth Spirits. All I know for certain is that I want to rip out the Heirs’ throats.” He gave a small self-mocking snort. “Finding out I can turn into a wolf, and that there’s a gang of murderous Englishmen after me, threw off all my pretty plans.”
What those plans were, he didn’t say, but she was surprised at the loss coloring his deep voice. He didn’t show his vulnerability if he could help it. A twinge of shame pierced her, having, up to that point, mostly considered her own unhappiness at being drawn into this mission. It wasn’t a mission to Lesperance. It was his life.
“I’m sorry,” she said, for that was all she could offer. She knew what it was to have dreams for the future, and those dreams to blow away like ashes.
“I’ll find my way. Could use guidance, though. A firm hand.” He raised his eyes to hers, and a heated interest glowed there.
“You don’t need that kind of guidance,” she answered tartly.
His scarce smile flashed. “A man who believes he’s nothing more to learn about women is a damn fool.”
Her sudden laughter caught them both off guard, but he chuckled with her.
“That’s a nice sound,” he said.
“Rusty,” she replied, grimacing. How long had it been since she’d laughed with another person?
He fed twigs to the fire, but she could not help but notice the masculine grace of his hands. A traitorous thought teased her: How might he touch a woman? With a firm hand, no doubt.
Astrid took her knife and carved the roast rabbit into pieces. Rather than bother with dirtying plates, she shoved a cooked leg into Lesperance’s hand and took one for herself.
She muttered something in Swedish about her disloyal mind, but, before she could take a bite, he asked, “What language is that?”
Astrid sighed. “I’m not used to all this conversation.”
“You intrigue me,” he said simply.
Her body gave a sudden pulse of answering interest. “I shouldn’t.”
“But you do.”
She had been so far withdrawn into herself for all these years, the idea that she could draw any man’s interest—particularly one as devastating as Nathan Lesperance—stunned her. “Why?” she asked, genuinely baffled.
“You’re not like any woman I’ve met before.” When Astrid gave an indecorous snort, he said, “Don’t scoff. We’re alike, but not the same. Tied together somehow, you and I. I knew it the moment I met you. You felt it, too.”
She wanted to deny it but couldn’t. She tried to shield herself behind flippancy. “Who knew a shape-changing attorney could be so sensitive? You should write poetry.”
“Throw your barbs,” he said with a shake of his head. “You can’t scare me off. I want to know you from the outside in.”
Oh, Lord. She could well imagine.
“And,” he added, nostrils flared, “there’s a hell of a lot more heat than poetry in what I feel for you. The animal in me feels the same way.”
She, who had faced enemy gunfire, water demons, sandstorms, and cannibal trolls, trembled at his words. Images flickered through her mind of her and Lesperance, slick and tangled, mouths and hands and flesh. His growls. Her moans. And not only bodies entwined, but minds and hearts as well. Exactly what she wanted. Exactly what she feared.
She had to change the subject before she gave in to her body’s darkest desires. “If I tell you what language I was speaking, do you promise not to say another word all night?”
“I’ll be quiet for ten minutes.”
“Ten! Thirty.”
“Fifteen.”
“Twenty.”
He held out his hand to shake. “Done.”
Her fingers slid into his grasp, and the sensation of fingers pressed against each other echoed in humid pulses through her body. “How did you talk me into this?” she asked, breathless.
He smiled, wry but also confident. “I’m a very good negotiator.”
That,
