“Lady Becka, I was hoping to have a few minutes of your time?”
Although it had been three months since she’d last seen him, she would have recognized Quinn’s rich baritone anywhere, despite the distance and formality in his tone. Heart leaping into her throat, she drank in his presence.
Becka looked him over, his simple but elegantly tailored shirt paired with the cargo pants he so loved, but now in black. He wore that sexy tactical jacket again, which was also in black. His short, stocky frame and cropped burnished-gold hair were the same as she’d remembered. Hands on his hips, his confidence and swagger were unshakable. Becka couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face, and she held in a breath as heat flared across her cheeks.
She wondered at the shift to black from the prior earth tones he’d favored. Had the enforcer’s uniform shifted, or was this a personal style choice?
He stood just inside her room, a notebook between his hands and his gaze trained on her. Fatigue strained his features and the look of concern on his face conveyed the depths of the situation at hand.
“Do I look that bad?” she asked, her voice croaking. She needed some water.
“I mean, you have looked better.” He smiled, but it was strained. Polite.
Distant.
Becka sighed, frustrated at the situation, which she knew as all her own doing. Despite her best efforts, she was still engaged to Alain. She also knew it might not be in her power to stop the impending nuptials; so far, all she’d been able to do was delay the inevitable.
Awkward didn’t even begin to describe the energy between them.
Chapter 5
“Luce, Saige,” Quinn said, “will you trust me alone with Becka for a short while?”
The shifters looked to Becka as one, and she nodded.
“Okay, but don’t wear her out with talking,” Luce replied. “She needs rest.”
“We’ll be just outside if you need us,” Saige said, pulling the door most of the way closed behind them.
“Want to sit down?” he asked.
Becka nodded and then plodded her way over to the divan.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“A glass of water would be nice,” Becka replied, settling herself down on the divan. Quinn ducked into her bathroom and returned, glass in hand. She kicked off her shoes and pulled off her gloves, laying them on the table next to her.
When he leaned over her and placed the glass on the same table, she caught his musky scent and was transported back to the night he’d crashed next to her and she’d been lulled to sleep by his steady, deep breathing.
Becka hadn’t seen Quinn since the weekend of Tesse’s funeral, when he’d left for Sirona Healing Springs to heal from his injuries during Woden’s attack. She shivered, extra aware of the weakness in her knees remembering how he’d been knocked out by the Shadow-Dweller’s concussive fireballs and pierced from the shrapnel of exploding trees. His stout House Oak constitution had no doubt contributed to his survival, but from what she’d heard from Chief Elowen, he’d been off work and healing for several weeks.
They’d been fortunate no one had died during the altercation. Would they be so lucky the next time a Shadow-Dweller attacked?
She and Quinn had spent her first week back at House Rowan constantly together. His abrupt absence after that long, tense week ending with Woden’s bloody attack had left her off-kilter. Associating Quinn’s presence with her return home had complicated Becka’s ability to adjust after he’d left.
They’d sent messages back and forth via phone, but being face-to-face with him again sent an electric thrill down her spine to the tips of her toes. It was even better to see him in person than she’d imagined. Despite the weeks apart, the comfort of his presence calmed her. Or perhaps she’d craved seeing him more because of the time apart.
Beyond the initial thrill of his return an unsure tension hung in the air between them. The reminder dulled her excitement over his return. Sure, he was here, but things weren’t the same, and might not ever be.
Becka took the glass and sipped. Immediately the soreness in her throat lessened and she felt a tad more focused. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t realize I was that thirsty.” She looked around the room but didn’t see a bottle of what she really wanted.
There was a glint in his amber eyes as he reached into his jacket and pulled out three bottles of her favorite hot sauce. “When I got my orders to come out here, I stopped and picked these up on the way.”
Becka sighed in anticipation, holding her hand out for a bottle. She’d missed his smile. “Please, Quinn, you have no idea how much my head hurts.”
He opened the bottle and handed it over. “I’d never even dream of depriving you.”
His ready smile faltered when she reached out. Becka snagged the bottle with her free hand and leaned back, alternating swigs between the hot sauce and the water. Quinn set the other bottles on her sofa table, grabbed a chair and pulled it near the divan, and took a seat.
“I’m surprised your house cook hasn’t whipped up a fae-based alternative to that sauce.”
“Oh, they keep trying! It’s like every day I get another option, and many work just fine managing my headaches, but I just adore this brand’s flavor.”
“Out of curiosity, I tried it. There’s no flavor, just heat,” he said.
“Not to me.” She smiled at the banter, but his expression was grim.
Quinn opened his notebook, studiously reviewing his notes for a moment. “As you can imagine, Vott’s shifter guards haven’t taken this attack well. Both of you have had constant surveillance since.”
Becka wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t been without a posted guard since she’d returned to House Rowan.
“After this, I’ll be lucky to use the bathroom without company,” she said.
Quinn sobered. “That’s a fine idea. I’ll recommend it to Brent.”
Becka rolled her eyes. “Kidding…”
Quinn’s gaze narrowed on her,
