Murid nodded again. “He could always tell me what was cooking when we were at the range, because he could smell it from the kitchen.”
The range was a good ways from the house. Far enough that if you were at the house and you needed to get the attention of somebody down there, you had to yell at the top of your lungs. Cerise cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice even. “You took William down to the range with you today.”
Murid looked away at the swamp. “Chicken with cumin and rice.”
“I see.” Things made so much sense now. Cerise bit her lip. William was a monster. The orphanage, the military, that wildness she sensed in him—everything made sense.
“You have to spell things out,” Murid said. “No games, no hints. You have to be very, very clear with him, Cerise. Be very careful and think before you act. He’s dangerous. Hugh didn’t change shape often, but William does, because he knows how to hide it. He’s been trained to fight and whoever trained him knew how to make the most of William’s strengths. So far he’s behaving himself, but if you’re alone with him and you don’t have a blade, you don’t stand a chance. Don’t send him the wrong messages and don’t get yourself raped. William may not even know it’s wrong to force a woman.”
Her memory thrust the lake house before her. Oh, he knew. He knew very well.
“If you let him, he’ll love you forever and he won’t know how to let go. Make sure you truly want him before you take that plunge. And ...” Murid hesitated. “Your children . . . If you were to have any.”
Their children would be puppies. Or kittens. Or whatever William was.
“Families aren’t for people like me.”
Oh, dear Gods. She finally found the man she wanted, after all this waiting, and he turned out to be a changeling. Maybe she was cursed. “It can never be easy, can it?”
Aunt Murid leaned toward her. “I had my chance with a man. I didn’t take it, because it was too hard and too complicated. Look at me now. How so very happy I am, old and alone. Fuck easy, Ceri. If you love him, fight for him. Nothing worth keeping is free in this world. If you don’t love him, cut him loose. Just don’t take too long to decide. Our future might be short.”
She turned and walked away, into the gloom.
WILLIAM padded through the night, following Cerise’s scent trail. He’d always paid close attention to female scents. Some were smothered with perfume, some were tinted with whatever the woman had eaten last. Some fragrances tantalized, others shouted, and a few cringed and proclaimed, “Easy prey.”
Cerise smelled the way he imagined his woman would smell. Clean, with a slight trace of shampoo from her hair, a touch of sweat, and a hint of something he couldn’t quite describe, something healthy, dangerous, and exciting that primed his nerves.
Mmmm, Cerise.
He chased her scent down the balcony, around the house, separating it from Murid’s trail. The two women stopped here for a while, then Murid left, but Cerise remained, resting her hands on the rail and looking at something . . . He leaned over the rail. Down below him Mire pines stretched to scratch at the night sky. Pale blossoms of maiden-bells bloomed between the roots, delicate like cups made of frosted glass. Cerise stood here looking at the flowers. If she liked flowers, he would get them for her.
William leaped over the balcony’s rail, landing in soft dirt. Five minutes later, he climbed back up, with a handful of flowers in his hand, and followed Cerise’s scent. It led him to the back of the house. He turned the corner and ran into Kaldar, carrying a bottle of green wine and two glasses.
Gods damn it.
Kaldar looked at his flowers. “Nice touch. Here.” He thrust the bottle and glasses at him. William took them on reflex. Kaldar pointed behind him. “Now you’re all set. Small door, up the staircase.”
He turned the corner and went off the way William had come.
Crazy family. William looked at the bottle. Why the hell not?
The door led him to a narrow staircase. He jogged up the steps into a large room. The floor was wood. Bare rafters crossed over his head—the room must’ve been sectioned off from the rest of the attic. To the left, the wall opened into a narrow balcony. Two soft chairs waited on the right. Cerise curled in the left one, by a floor lamp, reading a book.
I found you.
She saw him and blinked, startled.
He knocked on the stair rail with the bottle.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“It’s me. Can I come in?”
“It depends. If I don’t let you in, will you huff and puff and blow my house down?”
She had no idea. “I’m more of a kick the door open and cut everyone inside to ribbons kind of wolf.”
“I better let you in, then,” she said. “I don’t want to be cut to ribbons. Is that wine for me?”
“Yes.”
William crossed the floor and handed her the thick bottle. The light of the lamp caught the wine inside, and it sparkled with deep emerald green.
“Greenberry.” Cerise checked the label. “My favorite year, too. How did you know?”
He decided not to lie. “Kaldar gave it to me.”
She smiled and he had to hold himself back to keep from kissing her. “My cousin is trying so hard. It’s not his fault—he’s been trying to marry me off for years.”
“Why?”
“It’s his job. He arranges the marriages for the family: haggles over the dowry, makes preparations for the weddings, that sort of thing.” Cerise looked at the flowers in his hand. “Are those from Kaldar, too?”
“No. I picked those.”
Her eyes shone. “For me?”
“For you.” He offered her the flowers.
Cerise reached for them. He caught her hand in his. His whole body snapped to attention, as if he’d awoken from a deep sleep because someone had fired a gun by his head. Want.
She took the flowers and smelled them. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”