Carissa leaned against him. “You’re a good person.”
“No, not usually,” Sionnach admitted. “But I do try to protect my own.”
A few hours later, Sionnach stood waiting for Carissa to meet him in the ghost town where he’d been sleeping of late. They’d separated after their meal, her to run an errand and him to take some time with the sand and sun to think. He liked that he didn’t have to tell her that he couldn’t ride inside her vehicle, that such machines made him sick. They’d been spending enough time together of late that she didn’t ask questions when he made decisions that might otherwise seem peculiar. That, too, was a benefit of living in the desert. Out here, the sense of what was “normal” was wide and varied. Desert towns were the safe havens of mortals who didn’t want to be trapped by society—and faeries who weren’t willing to be a part of the courts. Peculiar was the norm here.
This ghost town had once been the only outpost in this part of the desert. It stood here when he first realized that Rika was living in a nearby cave. Back then, Silver Ridge was filled with mortals. Much like the ones living in the new desert town, those long-gone mortals were a mix of adventurers and lost souls. Some came to make a new life; others came to hide. They were all dead now, had been for decades. The town was dead too. It had been abandoned, and aside from the occasional photographer or hiker, the ghost town was Sionnach’s very own space, his personal hideaway and one of his regular resting spots.
Some of the buildings were standing, but others were shells now. He liked it that way, with saloon doors standing in a frame with no walls to support them. Behind those doors was a sheer drop to a ravine. When the ground had crumbled, he’d always thought that there was something strangely poetic about the still-standing doors. The town was clustered along a street, but on the hill stood an abandoned mining shack and a partial bit of track, broken but still present.
Sionnach watched Carissa pull up in her faded red Jeep. Although she turned off the engine, she didn’t get out of the vehicle. Before he’d met her, Sionnach had seen her out here with a group of people, drinking and dancing under the full desert moon. He liked the sense of freedom she reveled in that night, but he also appreciated the cautious way she looked around today.
He stayed invisible to her eyes until he reached one of the reasonably intact saloon-style buildings. Then, he turned to face her and became visible so it appeared as if he had just exited the building. He walked over the broken wood of the building’s porch toward the front railing with the sort of grace he knew she admired. An older mortal might find his foxlike agility peculiar, but Carissa didn’t question how or why he could move so quickly.
Carissa hopped out of the vehicle, watching him silently.
He knew better than to relax his rules too much, but he liked the intense way she studied him. He preened a bit under her attention, not quite revealing his Otherness, but not playing mortal as much as he typically would either. He allowed himself to be too sinuous as he leaped over the rail, too fast as he came to stand beside her in a bit of a blur, too different to truly be thought mortal.
She was wide-eyed and enthralled. “How did you—”
“Hello.” He took both of her hands in his, using them to pull her toward him—and away from the metal of the vehicle. Still holding her hands, he tugged her close enough to kiss. Some faeries were addictive to mortals; fox faeries weren’t. The only danger to her from his kisses would be if he were unscrupulous, and although he was far from honest with the mortals he wooed, he didn’t take advantage of them. He didn’t even sanction lying with them; the risk of fathering half-fey children was too great. So, he kissed her until she was breathless, and then he pulled away.
For the rest of the day, they explored the buildings. They picnicked on a brightly colored blanket with bold lines that he kept here for just this reason. His objective was to show Carissa the beauty of the desert, to let her see it as he did. He found a beautiful Mojave rattlesnake, interesting rocks, and Joshua trees. He pointed out the tip of a cougar’s tail on an outcropping, watching it vanish. He knew she would leave in the next few months, and—selfishly perhaps—he wanted her to remember him, to think of the desert as he knew it.
When evening fell, Sionnach walked Carissa back to her Jeep. Above them, the sky seemed to go on forever, and the distant sight of the cliffs and cacti in the dusk was gorgeous. Heat shimmered close to the earth as the warmth in the ground and the cool air of evening connected. Usually, he would be happy to be in the desert on his own, but tonight he wanted someone to share it with; he wanted the sort of union that he’d never had—one he couldn’t have until he was able to be with his true mate. He wouldn’t have relations with a mortal, but a night spent kissing and touching under the stars was tempting. In some quiet part of his mind, he could admit that Carissa would only be standing in for the one he wanted, but tonight, he simply didn’t want to be alone. In a moment of weakness, he blurted out, “I’m camping out here tonight. Maybe you could stay.”
She paused, kissed him, and said, “Well, if we were inside one of the buildings . . . I mean snakes wouldn’t get into the sleeping bag, right?”
“You’d stay? Really?” He pulled her into his arms again, torn between guilt and hopefulness. “With me?”
She laughed, not coquettishly but as if surprised. He had been the one keeping their kisses tame; he had been the one not pushing the lines.
“In a heartbeat . . . but . . .” She glanced at her watch. “I’m already going to be late.” She bit her lip, and then after a moment, she offered, “I could call my father on the way home tomorrow and say I had a flat or something.”
Sionnach brushed her hair from her face. He knew better than this. He was the Alpha here, the one tasked with setting the rules that the other solitaries followed. “But?”
“I’ll be grounded probably.”
“And they’d worry all night. . . .” He rested his forehead against hers. “Waking up with you beside me would be beautiful, but I don’t think either of us is ready for the costs of that.”
“Either of us?”
He pulled back to stare into her face and half answered her question: “I like seeing you. If you’re grounded . . .”
“Oh.” She blushed and ducked her head. “
She climbed into the Jeep, and Sionnach hid his hand behind his back so she couldn’t see that touching the steel of the door bruised it. He kissed her lightly and stepped away.
“See you soon?” Carissa asked hopefully.
“As soon as possible.”
She nodded and drove away into the desert, leaving him to ponder his weaknesses.
CHAPTER 19
Donia invited Rika and her mortal into the least formal of the sitting rooms. She suspected that the last Winter Queen had intended to have this room renovated, but the shabbiness of it was oddly comfortable. The rug that covered the hardwood floor was almost threadbare, although the muted greens and golds still somehow seemed opulent. More than once, Donia had thought that the rug was more suited to a museum than daily use. Delicate snow globes lined a shelf on the wall, proof perhaps that the dead queen had possessed a sense of humor. The only vibrant thing in the room was the bright crimson chair where Donia now sat with her bare feet curled under her. The rest of the furnishings were all muted with age, reminding her of the cottage where she’d lived when she was the Winter Girl. She felt like this room wasn’t as tainted by her predecessor’s often disquieting taste. The rest of the house she’d been slowly changing, but here she felt at peace.
Rika’s mortal, Jayce, sat on a faded floral divan. Rika, however, was pacing angrily as she said, “Keenan is trying to force allegiances.”
“With your solitary desert faeries?”
