"This has nothing to do with Windwolf." Nathan reached out and took her hand. "It's just made me think, that's all. You're a legal adult. There's no real reason to wait."
Having just compared herself to elfin females, Tinker felt a stab of sympathy and guilt for Nathan. How could he compete for her attention when just the idea of Windwolf kept making her feel all goofy? Nathan's interest in her had been intriguing until he started to talk about marriage. All of Windwolf, from his thoughts to his interest, did weird things to her emotions.
Nathan was waiting for an answer, and she didn't know what to say. She scrambled for something, and came up with, "I've got to go pee."
Nathan let go of her hand, and she fled. Why did he have to go all serious on her? Why couldn't he just take it slow and let her get used to the idea? And what was that scene at the parking lot? Was he going to try that again the moment they were alone in his car? Did he think they were going to have sex tonight?
Suddenly she just wanted to be home in her own bed, alone.
She headed for the Faire entrance, but her tight skirt and high heels were making it difficult to run away. And how was she going to get home? Like a fool, she hadn't brought money enough for a taxi. She could call Oilcan, but how would he react? He might think something worse had happened between her and Nathan—and that would be bad.
She hit a patch of soft dirt, and her heels sunk deep, making her trip. Hands caught her before she fell, righting her.
"Thank y—oh." Her words dried in her mouth as she realized it was Windwolf holding her lightly.
What was it about him that inspired so many emotions all at once? She peered up at the viceroy for all of the Westernlands. Gosh, what did she even call him? Your Majesty? All she managed was a faint, "Hey."
"I am glad to see with my own eyes," Windwolf said as quietly, "that you are well."
"I'm okay." She balanced against him while she took off her shoes. High heels in dirt being mistake number ten or eleven for her tonight. "Maynard took care of me."
"Ah, good." Windwolf relieved her of her shoes, handing them off to one of his guards. "Come with me. My car is waiting."
"Great!" She took a step forward and then stopped. "Oh, wait. I told Nathan I was just going to—um—going to the rest room. He'd worry if I just disappeared." He'd also probably call out a manhunt for her, and that might get the NSA involved.
"Describe this Nathan. I will send someone with a message."
Oh, that was tempting. Whatever had caused her to bolt suddenly—it wasn't quite fear, she told herself, just huge anxiety—receded in Windwolf's presence. "No." She held his hand tightly, drawing strength. "I should go back and tell him myself." Tell Nathan what, she wasn't sure. Oh, gods, what a mess. "It would be proper."
Windwolf bowed his head, and they started to retrace her route. Now, what was she going to say? Nathan, I'm going home with Windwolf. No. Windwolf is taking me home. No. Windwolf is dropping me at my loft. That sounded innocent enough. Nathan was going to ask why. Because—because—because you're scaring the shit out of me. "Oh, be real, this is Nathan after all."
"Pardon?" Windwolf leaned closer to hear her mumbled comment.
"Nothing. I'm just trying out apologies."
The crowd had been parting like waves when Nathan appeared before them, a rock to smash up against.
"What's going on here?" Nathan stared at Tinker's right hand holding Windwolf's.
Tinker hadn't even been aware that she still held tight to Windwolf. She fought the urge to snatch her hand free. She wasn't doing anything wrong. "I–I—I need to go home. Windwolf is dropping me at my loft."
"I'll take you home." Nathan took her left hand.
"Nathan!" she whined. Why did he have to be so dense? "Things went too fast tonight. I just want to go home."
"So I'll take you home." Nathan gave her hand a gentle tug.
Windwolf stepped in front of Tinker and caught Nathan's wrist. "No. She is coming with me."
"Look, you stay out of this." Nathan dropped into cop mode, and his voice went hard. "This is between me and her. Elves have no say in this."
"You did not listen to her. She is saying no. Now let her go."
The two males locked angry gazes at one another, ignoring her completely, while each holding on to one of her hands. She felt like a bone between two dogs.
"Nathan!" She tried pulling free of him. "Look, I just need some time to think about things. Give me time."
Nathan finally looked at her, and there was a world of pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry if things went too fast. Just don't go away with him."
Things went too fast? No, you went too fast! But she didn't say it aloud because she'd used the phrase first: It bothered her that he didn't own up to his actions, though. "Please, Nathan, let me go."
Nathan glanced hard at Windwolf, but then sighed and dropped her hand.
"I'll see you later," she promised. "We'll talk. Okay?"
"Yeah. We'll talk."
Having done the proper thing, she fled with Windwolf.
7: Carbon-based Transformation
Windwolf's car was a silver Rolls-Royce. Buttery-soft leather covered the seats. The privacy shield between the front and back sections turned opaque. The door shut, enclosing them in a womb of darkness, and Tinker discovered that the barriers between her and Windwolf remained down. Despite the couch-sized backseat, Windwolf sat close beside her, their bodies touching in the dark.
"You look lovely," Windwolf murmured into her ear.
She breathed in his warm scent, of sandalwood and leather. "How did you find me?"
"I had notes delivered to every place you might be today. You opened one and triggered the tracking spell on it. I would have found you anywhere tonight."
"Oh."
He cradled her left hand in his. "I would have come for you sooner, but there was much to prepare." He bowed his head over her hand, and kissed her palm, soft as butterflies alighting. "I wish there was more time, but that is something that you, as a human, do not have. Just yesterday, it seems, you were a child. I lost that chance to protect you. Now that I have found you, and come to know you, I do not wish to lose you again."
He ran his tongue feather light over the pulse point on her wrist, just as he had done at the hospice. Gods, it felt even better when she was fully awake.
Her fingers curved and touched the supple pearl of his ear lobe. She found herself exploring the alien beauty of his ear, so different from her own. "You don't mind me touching you?"
"Tonight it is you, not the saijin," he said huskily.
She took that as permission to explore. No stubble marred the line of his jaw, as elves did not have facial hair. He kissed her fingers as she glided them over his full mouth. In the strong column of his neck, she found his pulse just over his high shirt collar. Hard muscles played under the warm silk. By touch she found the structure of his shoulders, the solidness of bone. She came to the line of his buttons, and he undid them before her curious fingers. His skin under the shirt was soft and smooth as the silk, sculptured into taunt muscles.
"Do you lift weights?" she whispered as he shifted them, lifting up her knee as he settled back against the seat, pulling her after him. In one graceful motion, she found herself straddling his lap, facing him.
"It is the sword play, it is hard work."
Her exploration peeled back his shirt, laying bare his upper torso. The cloth lay draped across his back and over his forearms. His nipples were dark coins and his abdomen a stack of well-defined muscles. His shirttails were still tucked into his pants; white silk cut off by black suede. Her dress had ridden up where she straddled Windwolf, and they pressed together with anatomical correctness, only leather and silk separating them.