Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(28)

Wait, hadn’t Calum called her Nia?

Showing courage, no matter how foolhardy, she lifted her chin. “Owen. Is there something I can do for you?”

Perhaps not behave as if I bit off your tail. He found a better response. “Yes. Accept my apology for my rudeness the other day. Please.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she looked even more immature.

From now on, he’d confine his matings to shifters closer to his age or older. Older would be good. No one under forty-two, at least. “Nia?”

“Why were you so nasty anyway? All I said was I thought you were nice and you liked me.”

So. Fucking. Young. But he owed her the truth. “The way females talk about the God-called pisses me off. It’s all about hunting status and money—not a male to care for. You think cahirs and healers are all just prey.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

Right. Oh. “But I regret having taken a swipe at you.”

“Forgiven.”

“Thank you.” He took a step back.

“Did you realize you act like the females you just criticized? It seems as if you lump all females into one group and think we’re all equally awful.”

The expression on his face must have changed since she took a hasty step back.

Pulling a breath through his nose, he gave her a short nod and stalked away. By Herne’s giant balls, he disliked the young ones.

Especially when they dispensed a Mother’s wisdom.

*

The morning had been frustrating, and as Gawain walked into the lodge, he sincerely hoped the afternoon would improve. Changing towns and territories was more involved than he’d anticipated.

Still, no matter the effort, it would be a joy to live close to his brother and sister. For over twenty years, he’d kept his bargain with their mother—as long as he remained in Pine Knoll, she’d leave Bonnie alone. But last summer, he’d discovered his sister had mated two sturdy males who would never allow their manipulative, abusive mother to upset her.

Gawain pulled in a long breath. Finally, he was free. With any luck, their mother would never learn his location.

He could make a new life here.

Hearing his brother talking with Breanne in the kitchen, Gawain went in search of the female they were supposed to mentor.

On the flagstone-paved patio, Darcy was settled at one of the redwood tables. Barefooted, she wore jeans and an over-large T-shirt that said Seahawks. The bright October sun teased blue glints from her raven-colored hair.

She was watching the gurgling creek, and the look of peace on her face made him smile.

Seeing him approach, she smiled back. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, pretty cat.” He ran his hand down her thick, wavy hair. Soft.

She jumped, then relaxed. It was interesting how her expression changed to both a cat’s pleasure at being stroked…and wariness.

Giving her space, he turned away to check out the stream. Long, finned shapes glinted under the water, swirling and leaping in a happy game of tag. Undines, hmm? With long, sleekly scaled bodies and silvery hair, the water elementals were even more mischievous than pixies.

He’d definitely keep his dangling bits out of that section of the creek.

Sensing him, one undine sent water arcing toward the patio.

Darcy had a beautifully husky laugh. “They didn’t do that before. I think they’re trying to get your attention.”

“Probably. They’re more children of the Mother than the Hunter—and She is strong within me.” He settled into a chair and stretched out his legs with an exhausted sigh. “I think I walked every street in Cold Creek this morning.”

“For exercise or another reason?”

“I’m house-hunting. Calum gave me permission to move here and—”

“Permission?” Her delicate dark brows drew together. “Does a shifter need permission from the Cosantir to move into a territory?”

“Most shifters, no. For the God-called, it is courteous to check first.” When she still looked confused, he elaborated. “For example, it would be wasteful to have three healers in one territory if other territories had none.”

“Oh. Right.” As she studied him silently, he did the same.

Her eyes were such a dark brown even the sun didn’t lighten them…and the pain of her years of captivity lay in the shadows.

She tilted her head. “The scar on your cheekbone. It’s different than Owen’s.”

He touched the silvery-tinted scar of a blade encircled by a full moon. “Aye. Mine is for a blademage.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what a blademage does.”

“Never met one of us, eh?” He smiled. “Your mama wasn’t lifemated?”

“No, she said she’d never met any male she loved enough. My littermates and I were”—her eyes narrowed—“Gather-bred. Is that the word?”

He nodded.

“I’ve forgotten so much.” She made an adorably exasperated sound. “For the first years of captivity, I tried—we all did—to remember everything about being Daonain. But thinking of the outside made the walls higher. So I tried, instead, to forget and live in each day with no future and no past.”

Amazed at her strength, he took her small hand in his. “I can’t imagine being imprisoned, especially in a city. I think I’d go mad.” He stroked his thumb over her palm, finding scars and calluses. She’d had a rough life.