Sawyer had gone still; he barely seemed to breathe. I lifted my eyes to his. "What did Carla do?"
He looked away, then back again, shrugged. "A spell. As long as I wear this talisman, I can walk as a man anywhere that I wish."
"And if you don't wear it?"
"Woof."
"Very funny."
"I thought so."
Yet he wasn't smiling. He so rarely did. After today. I could understand why.
"Talisman," I murmured. "Not an amulet?"
"An amulet is for protection, a talisman brings good fortune."
"Your mother—"
"Don't call her that." He didn't raise his voice; never-theless I flinched at the fury in the words.
"All right." I agreed, though what was, was, and the Naye'i was his mother. "The woman of smoke had an amulet."
"To protect her from her enemies by hiding her from their seeking eyes."
"And this?" I lifted the bottle a little higher.
"A talisman to bring me . . ." He spread his clever hands. "Me."
I nodded, laying the talisman against his chest. My fingertips brushed his skin and he shuddered, then took a step back.
"You okay?" He'd never reacted that way before; it was almost as though he couldn't stand to be near me.
"Fine." he said, and brushed past. "Without my fur, the air's too cold."
It was summer, nearly eighty degrees out there, but I didn't bother to point that out. He wasn't cold and we both knew it.
"I'll take a shower." He disappeared into the bathroom.
"I guess we're sharing a room," I murmured to the closed door.
I hadn't had much choice when he was furry, but now ... I wasn't so certain staying in the same room with Sawyer was the best idea. Not that his being furry had done anything to stop the sex—at least in our minds.
I wandered around the room, uncertain what to do with myself. I picked up the TV remote, hit the on button, then just as quickly hit the off. I wanted silence. I needed to think.
I sat on the bed, but every time I tried to mull over our situation, I saw again the woman of smoke trailing her fingertip over Sawyer's chest. Was I ever going to gel that out of my brain? How did he?
Bam!
A dull cracking thud reverberated through the room. I glanced at the door, but it was still on the hinges, then up at the ceiling, but nothing huge and scaly was peeling back the roof and preparing to climb inside.
Bam!
The sound came again. From the bathroom.
I crossed the short distance, then turned the knob and walked right in.
The water was still running, the room full of steam. The red athletic shorts lay in a heap on the floor.
Sawyer leaned against the sink, shoulders hunched, head bowed. His hair was wet, he smelled of hotel soap, though even that couldn't erase the scent of fire, the mountains, distant lightning.
My gaze swept the room. Two huge holes gaped in the tile wall, and Sawyer's knuckles were bleeding.
"That isn't going to heal unless you shift," I said.
"It'll heal, just not right away."
"Was that really necessary?"
"Yes," he said simply.
I wanted to touch him, but I wasn't sure how, wasn't sure if touching him was the right thing, or the worst thing, I could do, so I stayed near the door and I waited.
He shivered and gooseflesh sprang up across his skin. He really was cold, or maybe in shock. Seeing him like this scared me. Sawyer was afraid of nothing and no one. Or so I'd believed.
"The door," he murmured. "It's chilly out there."
I shoved it a little too hard, and the resulting bang made him jump. "Sorry," I said.
He didn't answer, didn't move, just kept leaning against the sink as the mirror fogged and his knuckles bled red rivulets across the white porcelain.
I couldn't just stand there, so I strode forward, twisted the water on, and shoved his hand beneath the stream. That he let me caused the already nervous fluttering of my stomach to flutter some more.
"Why did you let her touch you like that?" I asked.
"You think I could have stopped her?"
I lifted my hand, tilted his face toward mine. "You're not a child anymore. You could have stopped her."
He yanked his chin from my grip. "Fighting only excites her."
I fought the gagging reflex at the image his words conjured. I was going to find out how to kill that bitch, and I was going to do it, no matter the cost. If there was justice on earth, and most of the time I had my doubts, the killing of a Naye'i would be a slow, drawn-out, and extremely painful process.
"Did you know she was the leader of the darkness?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I'm a witch, not a mind reader."
I narrowed my eyes. Sometimes I wondered.
"I haven't seen her in a long time. She hasn't answered my call." Sawyer pulled his hand out of the water, turned it off with a flick of his wrist, then stared into the sink as if all the answers had just swirled down the drain. "I should have known she was up to something."
Yeah, he should have. But after witnessing how she behaved with him, I could understand why he'd just been glad she was gone.
"She offered me to you."
His gray eyes met mine. "Yes."
"I didn't know you wanted me."