Keeper of Crows (Keeper of Crows #1)(29)

He stared at the ground below us.

“Why is it only you and the crows?” I finally asked.

“That is the way.”

“That is the way? Well, that way doesn’t work anymore.” He was exasperating.

He swallowed, his brows knitting together in anger. “I am finished answering your incessant questions.” And with those biting words, he stormed inside, down the stairs and out the front door, leaving me wondering what the hell was going on with him.



*

Keeper didn’t return in the afternoon, or what I thought was afternoon. He was sulking or pouting—or every other emasculating word I could mentally throw his direction. Asshole. But I wanted to get clean, so I stayed close to the back door and waited for the sky to open up. When the cleansing began, I stripped fast and ran into the deluge like a kid, scrubbing fast, kicking the fast-forming puddles and whooping, scaring the crows around me that otherwise didn’t seem to mind the rain one single bit. That was weird for birds, right?

Can they fly with wet wings?

“They can,” a masculine voice answered from right behind me.

I stared into his eyes, the rain carving rivers down his face. His eyes, swirling sapphire, never left mine, even for a second. We stood so close that I could feel the warmth radiate from him, but our bare skin never touched. It was a different kind of torture to keep myself from reaching out for him.

He narrowed his eyes, silently telling me not to touch him. But why come back at the exact time he knew I’d be naked and cleaning myself off?

“Did you come back for the show?” I shouted as the rain slowed.

“I was never far, but the show was...interesting. You act as free as a child.”

“I had fun.”

He smiled. “It looked fun.”

“Fun usually is. You should try it sometime.” I stood taller, pushing my breasts out for him to notice, and he did. His fingers might as well have pinched my nipples because they ached, straining toward him. And that was just with his eyes on me.

“Perhaps I will,” he mused, finally raking his eyes over the rest of me. Of all the men who’d seen me naked, tasted me, his eyes on me, even without his hands on my body, was more intense than all of them put together. “You’re beautiful, Carmen.”

Remembering the way I looked before I ended up in that hospital bed, a patchwork mess of bruises and torn flesh, was difficult and painful in a way I didn’t expect. My hair was always styled. My clothes were expensive, even if risqué. I was pretty at one time. I was beautiful. But now? I looked like I’d been run over by a train.

“I was,” I answered dejectedly.

“You are,” he said adamantly. “And you are brave. When the Lessons came I told you to stay inside, and yet you went in search of a weapon. You were going to come help me.”

I nodded. “I was. You shouldn’t have to fight them alone, Keeper.”

He crossed the space between us, lifting his hand and tipping my head up. The rain stopped completely as we stood there, staring at one another. His face dipped lower and I strained to get closer, rejoicing that I would finally feel him, kiss him, and touch him. But then his eyes tightened at the corners, transforming from royal blue to black in an instant. He set his jaw and used his body to cover me. “Get dressed quickly and get inside.”

“What is it?” I spun around but saw nothing. My heart pounded in my chest.

“Go!”

I ran for it, leaving my clothes beneath the porch. There were more inside. I bolted up the stairs and into the bedroom, where I searched quickly through the drawers for a bra and panties. Throwing open the closet door, I found jeans and a t-shirt.

Jogging back downstairs, I stopped in my tracks. Keeper was arguing with someone. I heard his voice, angry and sharp in its tone, yet still beautiful. He was speaking the language I loved. Two sets of eyes, almost red in color, turned in my direction. Keeper’s entire body was taut and so was his...brother’s?

“We aren’t brothers,” Keeper barked.

The other man, who looked eerily similar to my new friend, smirked, revealing a dimple in his left cheek—a dimple that Keeper didn’t have. Loose dark curls brushed his shoulders. Those were the only true differences that I could see. Same height, weight, and build. Same mood-ring eyes.

“She’s thought that a few times. What is a mood ring?” Keeper asked.

“It’s a trinket that turns different colors depending on the person’s body temperature, but according to the packaging, it varies with their feelings. I will bring you one when I return,” his near twin promised. “Here are more cigarettes,” he said, offering two packs to Keeper.

Keeper turned toward me, and then quickly, his feet closed the space between us. “Do I look like a fool?”

Our guest – whom I decided to call ‘Help’ – positioned himself between us, somehow faster than Keeper in that moment.

“Pardon?” I ticked my head back.

“This entire thing – you coming across, tearing the veil, acting innocent in it all. Have you been playing me for a fool?” Keeper stepped toward me, mouth open for another assault.

“She doesn’t know,” Help interjected.

“And how do you know that?” Keeper growled at his friend, who I now knew was definitely not his brother.