Island of Glass (The Guardians Trilogy #3)(18)

It wasn’t bad as faces went. It was no Annika, but few were. But she had good bones that would likely serve her well into old age—if she lived that long. A strong jaw that could take a punch, a wide mouth that always had something to say.

He supposed the short hair suited the face, even though he suspected she hacked at it with her own knife when needed.

He’d been known to do the same.

He remembered the first time he’d seen her in wolf form—that night on Corfu, in the midst of battle. The shock of it, the absolute magnificence of her as she’d stared him down with those gilded eyes.

Eyes that had wept for him when she’d thought him dead.

He’d forgotten what it was to have a woman weep for him.

He hadn’t allowed himself to have a woman for anything other than the most basic release in a lifetime or two. Looking at Riley now, reminding himself she wasn’t remotely the type of woman he’d ever been attracted to, he wondered why she should make him think of that release, and more.

Likely because they were the only two of the six who weren’t getting that release. Probably just that simple.

Then she opened her eyes, looked directly into his, and he knew it was far from simple.

“Problem?” she demanded.

“Your ten minutes are up.”

“Right.”

She sat up, stretched, and he swore he saw the wolf in the gesture.

When she stood, he remained where he was, blocking her.

“Repeat. Problem?”

“No. I forget you’re short.”

“I’m not short. I’m average. You’re taller than average.”

“You’re short,” he said flatly, and moved aside. “I’ll give this another hour, then I have to move, get some air.”

“I hear that. I wonder who’s in charge of lunch.”

“You’re hungry again?”

“It’s the cycle. It keeps the metabolism on a slow burn. Anyway, another hour or so and we should be able to finish the journal. Did you read any more while I took ten?”

“No.”

“So, I’ll bet you twenty he bangs the goddess. Or she bangs him. I’ve got a feeling she’ll take the lead there.”

Doyle thought of the prissy purple prose. “I’ll wager that. She can do better.”

He picked up the book; she went back to taking notes.

At the end of the hour, Riley held out her hand, palm up. “Pay me.”

“He could’ve been lying. I nailed the moon goddess in the castle on the hill.”

“Pay up.”

Resigned, Doyle dug twenty out of his pocket.

“If we had more journals, I’d go double or nothing the sister goddesses did their own bouncing during the celebration.” Riley stuffed the bill in her pocket. “It follows. We started there, too, on the island. Our bloodlines. It all started there. And more than a millennium later—by my surmise—we’re working our way back there. We’re able to do that because of that bloodline, because each of us has something more, a kind of gift.”

“I was cursed. It wasn’t a gift.”

“I’m sorry.” Sympathy and briskness mixed in her tone. “I’m sorry for what happened to your brother, and to you. But putting the emotion of it aside, that aspect of you, the curse of immortality is part of the whole. Every one of us brings something special to the table, and together it makes the meal.”

His face, his eyes hardened and chilled. His voice flashed, iced fire. “You’re saying that my brother was meant to die so I could be cursed?”

She might have answered temper with temper if she hadn’t clearly heard the guilt and grief tangled in it. “I’m not, and there’s no point getting pissed. I’m saying that even if you’d saved him, you’d have been cursed. If the witch had never lured him, there would have been some other connection, altercation. You said yourself you’d searched for Nerezza, for the stars, for hundreds of years. No luck. But you hook up with us, and in a couple months we have two of the stars, and we’ve kicked her ass twice. It was always going to be up to us.”

“And what was he then, my brother, in your surmising? No more than a pawn to lure the knight?”

“He was your brother.” Her tone rolled over the keen edge of his. She didn’t flinch from it. “Why something evil chose him is impossible to say. I’m saying something else chose you, and the rest of us. The journal, for me, adds more weight to that.”

Though she kept her eyes level with the barely banked fury in his, she paused a moment. Now her tone gentled a little. “I’m the last one who’d ever devalue the bond of family. It’s everything. I’m just trying to get a sense of the really big picture, and logic the crap out of it to try to move us forward.”

“Logic’s the least of it though, isn’t it?” He rose again. “I need the air.”

After he strode out, she hissed out a breath. “I’m a freaking scientist,” she uttered in frustration, then picked up her notes and went out to find Sasha—and lunch.

Since everyone appeared to have scattered, she made her way to the kitchen, hunted up the makings for a sandwich.

As she layered turkey with ham, considered her choice of cheeses, Sasha came in with a new task chart.