Mists of Velvet

him. Then she nodded slowly, which led him to believe she knew of Bran, even if she didn’t know him.
    “Can you take me to him?”
    She shook her head violently, then pointed to his chest.
    “I’m better. Thanks to you. But I need to get to Bran.”
    Again she shook her head, and Rhys reached for her wrist. “I can’t stay here. I need to leave.”
    Rising up, she twisted her wrist, freeing herself from his weakened grip.
    “If you won’t take me, I’ll go searching myself.”
    She shoved him back down, then promptly left him on the floor. Damn if the woman wasn’t stubborn.
    “I’m healed,” he called after her as she walked out the door of the cottage. Damn it, he hoped he hadn’t offended her. It probably wasn’t the right thing to do with a goddess who had just saved your ass.
    Slowly Rhys stood up and smoothed his hands over his face. The food had given him strength, and the medicine that covered his chest was tingling nicely, cooling the fire of his skin. In all, he felt pretty good for nearly being a human sacrifice. And he owed it all to the woman who had just left him—again.
    Rhys made his way to the door and opened it, prepared to step out and see where she was. But the snarling sound made him freeze. Before him was the white wolf, and its teeth were not something Rhys particularly cared to experience digging into his leg.
    “All right,” he muttered, stepping back. The wolf moved forward, forcing Rhys back into the cottage. Rhys didn’t know whether to put his hands in the air in surrender or to cover his genitals, which were pretty much eye level with the wolf. Damn it, he really needed some jeans.
    The wolf forced him back until Rhys was standing in the spot by the fire. Their gazes were locked, and Rhys reminded himself not to make any sudden moves.
    Lowering his tall body onto the fur pallets, Rhys slowly brought his arms down. “All right, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
    The wolf whimpered and immediately sat back on its haunches. Rhys suddenly saw the intricate blue design on its left hind leg. He went to touch it, but the wolf snapped. A warning only—its teeth weren’t anywhere near his skin, but the sound of clamping jaws had the intended effect. Rhys backed off.
    “Where did she go, huh?” he asked the wolf. It cocked its head and studied him. Its eyes were gorgeous; so icy blue—a lot like the color of his goddess’ eyes, he thought.
    The animal let him put his palm on its head and rub between its ears. “There, see, I’m not going to hurt you. But I do need to get to the Sidhe king.”
    “Soon . . .”
    He heard the word, whispered in a woman’s voice. He jumped, afraid it was Cailleach, but as he looked around the cottage, he realized no one was there besides him and the wolf.
    As he stared into the animal’s blue eyes, Rhys began to feel sleepy. His exertions had cost him, and now he was feeling weak and exhausted. Pansy-ass mortal.
    Even though he didn’t want to show his weakness, he couldn’t help but recline on his side. The furs felt good beneath him. The animal followed, curving its body into Rhys’ front.
    “Don’t you leave me, too,” he mumbled as he let his arm drape over the wolf. “And don’t decide to rip out my throat when I fall asleep.”
    The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was the wolf’s eyes. They really did remind him of the goddess’ baby blues. Man, he thought with disgust, he was really fucking losing it.

    When Rhys was asleep, Bronwnn slowly rose. His arm was still draped across her body, and she was loath to move it. It felt good. He felt good. But she knew she must.
    The change into her woman’s form was swift and painless. She stood beside him now, gazing down upon him. He was so handsome, and his voice was the color of the night, black and sultry. It washed over and made her skin prickle with awareness. Perhaps she found his voice so arousing because she no longer had one of her own. He hadn’t appeared to be disappointed by her not speaking to him. She had fleetingly wondered if he would. They were to be mated, after all. They would have a lifetime spent together. And if she didn’t talk . . .
    Bronwnn’s gaze roved along his hard body. There were other things to do than talk, she thought.
    Turning, she went back to the table and set about her task. She had wanted to bathe him, to soothe the ache that must have settled into his body after lying on the hard floor all day, but then he had fallen