Pleasure lit in her eyes. She kissed him again, teasing him with her taste. “I’m an even better swimmer, so . . . bring it on. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
His lips twitched. “Way too confident, iubita.”
“You won’t think so when I drown you.”
He laughed, the unexpected threat lightening his mood.
Eyes sparkling with mischief, she grabbed his hand and, with a solid tug, drew him toward the door. He went without a fight, allowing her to lead, enjoying the easy banter and the promise of a playful swim. It wouldn’t last long. The moment she shed her clothes, it would be over. He wouldn’t be able to resist her. Would want to be deep inside her again while warm water swirled around him, and she moaned his name.
Over and over. Again and again.
Anticipation picked him up, making his heart thump and his muscles twitch. Not surprising. She had a way about her. Everything she did cranked him tight—her laugh, her imprudence, the way she challenged and amused him. The thing he liked the best, though, was her acceptance. Without even trying, Cosmina made him feel valued, needed, and best of all, wanted. A potent combination when it came to an impertinent redhead with a mind of her own and the skill set to back it up.
“I want you again.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she unlatched the door and raised a brow. “And you call me insatiable?”
“Can’t be helped,” he said as she pulled the door wide. Winter air rolled in on a cold tide, helping to cool his ardor. “You’re irresistible.”
She huffed. “Smooth talker.”
“Beautiful temptress.” Turning his hand, Henrik laced their fingers together.
She drew a quick breath. Her expression shifted, moving from playful to . . . Henrik frowned. He didn’t know exactly. She’d gone from teasing to serious in a heartbeat. And as she stared at him, he read the subtle tension in her frame, felt the air thicken, and something weighty settle between them. He opened his mouth to ask. She shook her head, lightheartedness returning, the strain in her eyes fading so fast Henrik wondered whether he’d imagined it . . . and what it meant. Not giving him a moment to reflect, Cosmina squeezed his hand, pulled him over the threshold and into the open air. Dusk descended, frosting the treetops with silver strokes. Faint, but growing brighter by the moment, stars dotted a cloudless sky as the moon awoke and—
Cosmina stopped short in front of him.
As he bumped into her, her tension registered. Henrik reacted. Shoving her behind him, he palmed one of his daggers and, scanning the clearing in front of the cottage, pulled the blade free.
“No need, H.” The deep voice slithered through his mind. Magic flared, throbbing between his temples as static washed in, then out, and the connection strengthened. “’Tis just me.”
Knifepoint raised, Henrik’s focus snapped left. His eyes narrowed. “Christ, Tareek.”
“Hello to you too.” Arms crossed, one shoulder propped against the cottage cornerstone, Tareek raised a brow, a look of censure in his eyes. “Nice of you to finally come up for air.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Disrespect her.”
Tareek snorted. “’Tis no failing of hers, fratele. ’Tis you I’m admonishing. You’ve been in there for nearly two days.”
Henrik frowned. Two days. Really? The time span seemed a stretch but, well . . . hell, ’twas possible. The cottage was well supplied—lots of food, an ample water supply, two long stacks of wood against the long wall—and honestly, he’d been so wrapped up in Cosmina, the sky could’ve fallen and he might not have noticed. “Jesus.”
Tareek’s mouth curved. “Lost track of time, did you?”
“I’m not apologizing.”
“Did I ask you to?”
Nay. But then, Tareek never did. He accepted his faults instead, supporting him unconditionally, backing him up, hammering some sense into him when necessary. An excellent friend in every way, even if it meant enduring the occasional scolding. This time, though, Henrik was hard-pressed to feel bad about leaving his friend out in the cold. “She needed me.”
Amusement sparked in his friend’s eyes. “I’m sure.”
Henrik sighed.
Cosmina nudged him from behind. “Henrik, is everything all right?”
He wanted to say no. Not far from the truth considering Tareek was a meddlesome prick. Henrik glanced over his shoulder instead. His chest went tight as he met her gaze. Worry swam in its depths, the kind he didn’t like and wanted to shield her from. An absurd reaction considering he wouldn’t be around much longer. But the compulsion refused to leave him alone. So forget denial. For as long as he was around, he would protect her. From worry. From fear. From idiot dragon-shifters who enjoyed teasing and never let anything go.
“All good, Cosmina.” Sheathing his blade, he tugged her out from behind him. “’Tis just Tareek.”
“Just?” Tareek scoffed, the sound of derision echoing through mind-speak. Slapping a hand over his heart, his friend went the dramatic route. “You wound me.”
“Not yet.” Flexing his fists, Henrik glared at his friend. “But it’s coming to that.”
Grinning like an idiot, Tareek pushed away from his perch. Boots rasping over the frozen turf, he focused on Cosmina and tipped his chin. “My lady.”
“Nay, please . . . call me Cosmina,” she said, shifting closer to Henrik as Tareek approached. Eying his friend, she tilted her head. The soft strands of her hair brushed against Henrik’s upper arm. Goose bumps rose on his skin as something unexpected moved behind her eyes. Henrik tensed, recognizing her expression. ’Twas a look he’d seen before, one that heralded insight and spoke of premonition. She blinked, thick lashes flickering before her focus sharpened on Tareek once more. “You’re the dragon.”
Tareek’s mouth curved. “Guilty as charged.”
“Well then, thank you,” she said, tone soft, words sure.
“For what?” his friend asked.
She glanced at Henrik, then back at Tareek. “For getting us out of the cemetery alive.”
The gratitude threw Tareek. Henrik could see it in his eyes, which—God help him—was fun to watch. Not much surprised his friend, never mind made him squirm. But as Cosmina held Tareek’s gaze, pulling information about him out of the ether, the dragon-shifter flinched, unease rising like a cloud around him.
“Hristos, H,” Tareek said, switching to mind-speak. As though unable to handle her intensity, he rolled his shoulders and broke eye contact, dragging his gaze from Cosmina. Expression shuttered, he drilled Henrik with a look. “She’s powerful.”
“I know.”
Brows furrowed, Tareek cleared his throat. “Henrik, a word?”
Quick to comprehend, Cosmina took the cue. Adjusting the satchel on her shoulder, she bumped his shoulder, and stepping around him, pointed to a trail across the clearing. “Meet you at the hot spring?”
He nodded. “Meet you there.”
With a good-bye to Tareek, she skirted him and started across the clearing. Tree limbs creaked as silence swelled in her wake. She didn’t look back. Didn’t slow one iota in the hopes of eavesdropping either. Pace steady, she hopped over a fallen log halfway across the dell. Her feet landed with a crunch. The satchel flapped against her back. The soft slap echoed, drifting through the quiet as she stepped onto the trailhead. The second she disappeared from view, Henrik scanned the open space, picking up details he’d neglected earlier. Embers aglow in the round pit in the center of the clearing, fire banked beneath a roasting spit. Bedrolls piled to the right of the fire pit. Horses tethered and half-asleep in a small pen to the right of the cottage.