“Vincent?” Jillian’s chest heaved with every breath as she tried to compose herself. She reached up, running her hand over the back of his neck as she pulled him close.
His warm breath caressed her shoulder, leaving a trail of goose bumps. Their cheeks brushed together as he pulled away.
“There’s no rush.” Vincent raised her hand to his lips, kissing the back of her knuckles.
Finn had left his clothes on the rock next to the tunnel just as he’d promised. Jillian took off her pack to put them away, but Vincent stopped her.
“You’re shivering.” He touched her chin. “Why don’t you change into these, and we can wash them for Finn tomorrow?”
“Yeah, okay.” She nodded, stripping her shirt off over her head. Her hoodie had gotten a little damp, so she took that off, too.
Vincent turned around and waited for her to get changed.
“What should I do with these?” She indicated the bundle of wet clothes in her hands.
“We’ll put them in Finn’s pack for now and set everything out in the sun to dry first thing tomorrow.”
Having dry clothes on made all the difference in the world. Hiking back to the cabin in the dark might have been a much more frightening experience if she didn’t have a six-foot, muscle-bound werebear with her. But the forest at night was a new kind of beautiful. Her muscles ached, and the straps of the backpack had rubbed red marks on her shoulders by the time they finally made it back. She sighed with relief at the sight of the cabin.
Vincent took her backpack and opened the door. She went straight for the wood stove, holding up her hands to warm them.
“Looks like Conner turned in already.” Vincent nodded to the three bowls of porridge on the table. “Finn must not be back yet.”
He crossed the den to knock on Finn’s door. When he didn’t answer, he opened the door to find the room empty.
“Should we go out and look for him?” Jillian started to pick up a coat.
“No, he stays out all night sometimes.” Vincent sat down at the table. “That’s just Finn.”
Jillian sat down across from him, and he pushed one of the bowls toward her. She inhaled the sweet buttery smell and took a bite. Conner had sweetened it with honey, and it was still warm, so it must not have been sitting there for long.
“Something doesn’t feel right.” Jillian stared at the third bowl. “It doesn’t seem like he would just not come home without telling anyone where he’s going.”
“It’s not that weird.” Vincent shook his head. “The bear inside gets restless. Conner will do it once in a while, too. They’re grown men, and sometimes you just need to let them do their thing.”
“Do you like to disappear sometimes?” She leveled her eyes at him.
“Not anymore.” He smirked, finishing up his porridge. “But I’ve been at this a lot longer than they have. I don’t feel that same itch anymore.”
“You mean you behave like an adult?” She gaped with mock surprise.
The floorboards creaked under his boots as he stood up, crossing the kitchen to a small wooden cabinet. He crouched down, pulling out a glass bottle containing a clear liquid and what looked like a stick. Setting down two shot glasses, he filled them both and set the bottle aside.
“Go easy on Finn.” He chuckled, picking up one of the shots. “Here’s new to friendships.”
“Well, I can’t pass up a chance to drink to that.” Jillian picked up the other glass and clinked it against Vincent’s. The burning liquid contained notes of vanilla and cinnamon.
That explains the stick in the bottle. Jillian thought.
“Thank you.” She got to her feet, standing on her tiptoes to give Vincent a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for taking me to see the paintings… and for being so understanding about my not wanting to rush into things.”
“Don’t thank me. My grandmother always tried to push the idea of my fulfilling some great destiny.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his finger. “I hated it. I ran away to med-school, thinking I could outrun it.”
“What happened to your family wasn’t your fault.” She put her hand on his cheek. “You know that, right?”
“It was my fault, Jillian.” He covered her hand with his. “I defied destiny, and my tribe paid the price. I feel like a hypocrite, forcing these prophecies down your throat. I want to tell you that destiny is all a bunch of bullshit and that only you control your fate. And I guess in a way you do. All you can do is make sure that whatever you decide, you can live with the consequences.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Pssst… You awake?” Conner hissed.
“I am now.” Jillian opened one eye.
“Come outside with me.” He nudged her. “I want to show you something.”
“My legs are still sore from yesterday.” She groaned, turning over.
“Yeah, but it’ll be so worth it.” He smiled. “I promise.”
“What time is it?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “It’s still dark out.”
“The sun will be up in less than an hour. Is that Finn’s shirt?”
“Mine was cold and wet.” She got up and reached for the pile of damp socks.
“No shoes.” Conner wrinkled his nose. “You don’t need ‘em. They’ll just slow you down.”
She followed him to the kitchen where Finn’s bowl still sat untouched.
“Okay, at what point should we start worrying about Finn?” She frowned. “We should wake up Vincent and try to find him. He could be hurt.”
“Trust me. Finn can look
