Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(67)

Owen already thought females were manipulative, greedy creatures, and he’d been kind to her—last night anyway. They both had. But it had also been obvious a full moon mating didn’t mean anything more…serious. After all, she’d been with Donal and Tynan, too.

As her spirits sank, the heat zinging through her veins cooled. Gawain liked her well enough, and Owen had said he liked her, but that didn’t mean either one would want more than friendship from her. They’d performed their…service…to her last night. Now, they’d return to being her mentors, nothing more. Lusting after them would be inappropriate, possibly even offensive.

She cared for them…too much…and she mustn’t. Besides, she’d be leaving town the minute she could. Her mere presence endangered the Daonain.

Looking out the window, she was relieved to see Cold Creek’s outskirts, then the small downtown. Gawain slowed and parked in front of Angie’s Diner.

“Did we need to pick something up here?” she asked.

“A text came through,” Owen said. “Calum said he’d be at the diner now.”

“I’d hate to interrupt his breakfast.”

Gawain snorted. “Nice excuse, but it won’t work. We are summoned, sweetling.”

Oh my Gods. She’d washed as best she could in the cold creek water, but it sure hadn’t erased the fragrance of sex. Sex with four males. Humans would call her a slut.

She wasn’t, was she? No. Having sex with multiple males was a Daonain tradition—and it shouldn’t matter if all the males knew she’d been a virgin.

So why did the whole thing feel purely embarrassing?

And now, meeting the Cosantir after everything that’d happened last night? It was too much. Just too much.

Owen opened the rear door and held his hand out for her to take, as if she were a granny incapable of standing on her own. Or a criminal he had to secure to ensure her compliance. Honestly.

She scowled. “I won’t run.”

A smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “I doubt you’d run from anything…except maybe being embarrassed.” Even as she stared at him, he hauled her out of the vehicle and headed for the diner. With an iron-hard arm around her waist.

Gawain walked on her other side.

Uh-huh. Criminal. Even if she wanted to run, she’d undoubtedly trip over the rolled-up legs of Gawain’s jeans. He’d had to string a rope around the waist to hold them up.

With a sigh, she straightened her shoulders and marched inside.

Sparsely filled, the diner had a wooden floor, blue-checked vinyl tablecloths, and a long glass-fronted counter filled with goodies.

In a back corner, Calum sat with his mate, Vicki. When he saw Darcy, his expression went cold.

He was angry. At her. Her stomach felt as if she’d eaten a mass of wriggling grubs. “Oh, he’s going to kill me,” she said under her breath.

With his arm still around her, Owen looked down. “You weren’t seen by any human, so probably not.”

Oh, Goddess. Calum’s killing her was a possibility? Her feet stopped dead in the center of the diner. Someone had said Cosantirs had the right of high, middle, and low justice, so Calum could execute shifters.

But, but, but…

Beside Calum, Vicki gave her a tiny smile and made a slight motion with her fingers. Come.

Darcy pulled in a breath and tried to locate her spine. If he killed her, at least he’d do it quickly and neatly—not torture her as the Scythe would. As often as she’d thought she’d be dead, shouldn’t she be getting used to it by now? Jaded?

Why did she have such a cold feeling in her belly?

Owen dropped his arm from around her waist, maybe so she could walk to her death without looking as if she was being coerced. “Come, little cat. Time to fess up.”

Gawain squeezed her shoulder with his big blacksmith’s hand. “We won’t leave you.”

We? Both him and Owen?

Owen nodded agreement.

Wow, it was almost like having protective brothers only…not. Because…

Gawain’s gaze softened as he touched her cheek with his fingers. As if he, too, remembered all the incredibly intimate things he’d done to her last night.

She flushed and forced her feet forward to the table.

Calum rose politely. “Cahir. Mage.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Darcy.” A quiet gesture was an order for them to take seats.

She took the chair Gawain held out, relieved when he sat beside her.

Owen pulled a chair from another table, so he could sit on her other side.

“Good morning, Cosantir. Vicki,” Gawain said blandly, as if Darcy wasn’t about to be executed for defying a Cosantir’s orders.

Owen nodded to Vicki. He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs. “Calum, you look like someone stole your breakfast bunny.”

The Cosantir straightened. “Quite observant of you, cahir.”

Darcy elbowed the stupid cahir in the ribs and whispered, “Stop it. You’re going to get me killed.” Belatedly, she remembered everyone at the table was a shifter with very good hearing.

Owen shook his head. “Nah. As an honorable adult, Calum wouldn’t cut down a tree to move a branch out of his path.”

The Cosantir’s eyes narrowed. “Owen, you’re—”