The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(41)
Her apology shamed his behavior, the way he tormented her without giving her a chance. Assumed the worst and reveled in his assumption. He knew why. He’d known the truth in those rocks and didn’t need it ground into his face. From the moment he’d committed her to the Agreement he’d been fighting to hold on to something—and he’d lost that fight. He’d been angry, but not because she wanted to get away from him.
It was because he couldn’t make her stay.
Christan rose to his feet and loped into the trees. He wasn’t sure what drove him, but he would follow her back to the cabin. His presence alone would be enough to warn off any natural hunter who ignored his scent.
It took longer than Christan expected for Lexi to reach the compound. The rain was cold in an icy wind. Her hair was wet, clinging to her back by the time she reached the cabin. As she pushed open the door, he waited in the shadows. When the lights were turned on, he tracked her progress through the small space. The kitchen was bypassed, then the bedroom. The bathroom light came on.
Christan doubted she would come out again, which meant she wouldn’t eat. Meals were prepared by a warrior named Paulo and served at the main lodge. Marge thought it fostered a sense of family unwinding at the end of the day. Christan avoided the large dining table, knew Lexi did, too. While she might have essentials in the tiny cottage kitchen, she needed real food on a wet night, hot enough to chase the chill.
He prowled around beneath the pines, claws digging deep into the dirt. He drew on the well of anger, the steadfast belief that he knew her at the core. Throughout his long life Christan had been the master of war. Fighting and tactics came as easily to him as love and sex came to others. And yet, in that one small encounter, in the middle of a forest, she’d cast doubt over everything he believed.
It was as simple as that. No bells. No whistles. Just damn… simple.
Christan turned and walked toward the lodge, changed back into his human form as he reached the steps. No one asked why he gathered a bowl of hot soup, a salad, another bowl of stew, an apple, some candy bars and warm bread and slammed them all down on a rectangular tray. When he noticed he’d squashed the bread he threw it away, took another piece.
No one offered to help as he tipped his head and stared down at the selections, wondering what he’d missed. She thought she’d taught him how to cook, and she had—a long time ago, and he didn’t remember much about the cooking. His mouth tightened and as he covered the tray and stalked back out into the rain, he never noticed how Arsen and Marge stepped out of his way and watched him leave.
Lexi loved the log cabin. Crafted by local artisans, the design blended with the forest environment. There were high vaulted ceilings with open rafters, warm golden light from the lamps and chandeliers. River rock surrounded two fireplaces, one in the living area, the other tucked into the bedroom. The nights could get cold, and while there was modern heating, fireplaces were nice for sudden chills and relaxing ambiance.
On the day she arrived Arsen pointed out the supply of split logs and the kindling, then handed her a box of long matches. He’d taken her though a kitchen with stainless steel appliances, past warm Navajo rugs on a planked wood floor. The butter-soft leather furniture invited conversations while the bedroom was private. It was a cabin that protected her and it would be difficult to leave.
The bathroom was her favorite space. The hammered brass tub was authentic, judging by the patina, and fitted with modern faucets. There was a shower tiled with stone and a sink, carved from a massive boulder. The surface had been smoothed until it dropped into a natural basin crafted in ceramic, large enough to bathe a small child. It was so realistic she expected to see ferns growing close to the edge. Little jars with pink bath salts sat on a transparent shelf beside a pitcher that reminded her of aqua-colored sea glass.
Those details went unobserved, though, as Lexi walked through the cabin. Her pulse was racing. Nerves beneath her skin were still zinging. How insane did a person have to be to confront a wild animal where no one could hear a cry for help? But she thought the predator was Christan, hoped it was him. And she’d needed to make peace.
Now she wasn’t sure. She hurried into the bathroom, slid out of her wet clothes and tossed them in the corner before turning on the water in the brass tub. She didn’t know if Christan was back, didn’t know what animal forms he liked to use, and confronting a mountain lion was pretty freaky when you thought about it. Not a rational experience in the normal world.
The entire situation was not part of a normal world, and Lexi slid into the warm water. The man demolished her. Turning at night, the scrape of the sheet became the touch of his hand. With her face against the pillow, she recalled the scent of his skin. The warmth of his mouth, a male caress, drifting until her pulse raced. She would stare into the flames in the fireplace and see his face, reach out to pull him back as if she knew he was slipping over an edge she couldn’t see. That he’d slipped once before and she’d watched him fall.
Lexi pressed the heels of her hands hard against her eyes. Stupid, she was so stupid and now he’d gotten beneath her skin. He was the most aggressive man she’d ever met, so physical that even when he was raging, part of her ached for tenderness. She liked that he towered over her, that his shoulders could blot out the sky if she ever found herself beneath him. She didn’t understand it, couldn’t, unless it was lust left over from a past life.