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Coral shuts her eyes and tucks herself into my arms again. I’m not really sure if she knows what she’s doing. But in the event that she doesn’t, I’m not going to embarrass her and point out that I’m still carrying her around.
“Yeah, normally, I have enough energy to make at least two wards before I get tired, but that aspen was a real bitch, and…” She yawns so hard her jaw cracks.
“Bitch of a tree,” I prompt.
“Yeah. Real bitch of a tree. We need to do each point. The north, south, east, and west,” Coral yawns again.
“Listen. I don’t know how you do it?—”
“Technically, I don’t. I just tell the trees to watch out for me. But that aspen was…”
“A real bitch of a tree,” I finish.
Coral peeks up at me through her lashes. “Yup. And you know what?”
“What, Coral?”
“I don’t think I can finish today.”
I laugh. “No. I don’t think we should do that. Do you want me to put you in your bed?”
She gives the sleepiest, smallest, tiniest nod.
I open her house, but really, I don’t want to put her down. If I could just keep her in my arms while sitting on the bed, I would. But that would be weird. I think.
Chapter 5
Coral
Ihaven’t slept this well in years.
After what feels like a solid eternity, I wake up in my own bed. In the night, a small thread of trumpet vine must have climbed through the window, because I’m wrapped in a very pleasant-smelling halo, the vines writhing through my hair. I guess that could be the reason I slept so well. But I don’t think the reason is a trumpet vine.
My dreams smelled like sage and oak. Which is not what trumpet vines smell like.
I stretch, my nose tickling as I smell something else.
Bread.
I hop up out of bed, throwing on a jumpsuit that was woven from cotton that randomly sprouted one day in the meadow. Pulling my hair back, I tie it with some grass and pop into my kitchen.
Nolan’s in there. And he’s making toast. With strawberry jelly.
I slide into one of the two chairs in my kitchen. “That smells amazing.”
“It’s pretty much the only thing you had in here.”
“I don’t eat meat. Or things that were once alive.”
Nolan wrinkles his nose, turning with the toast on a plate. “Do you mind if I do?”
“Of course not.” I grab the toast, relishing the sweet smell. “It’s natural for you to hunt. You’re a shifter. You get your energy from the hunt as much as you do from the thing you eat. I’m not a shifter.” I bite into the toast, my eyes nearly rolling back in my head. “Oh, my goodness,” I moan. “That’s so good. Thank you,” I say, crunching another bite.
Nolan makes a strangled noise.
I crack one eye open, still chewing. He’s staring at me. His gaze looks dark, and his eyes are completely focused on my lips.
I freeze. Do I have strawberry jelly on them or something? Tentatively, I lick my lips.
