Page 128 of Beasts of Mine

“I was always going to leave eventually.” I told Malek, keeping my voice gentle because pretending otherwise would only make this harder later. “Even before any of this happened. This assignment ends. I go home. Then eventually I take another assignment somewhere else.”

“I know.” Malek answered, his jaw tightening even though he kept his voice even.

“And if this works between us, that’s still going to happen.” I continued while watching him carefully. “Maybe not exactly the way it would have before, because now there are three extremely complicated men in the middle of my plans, but I’m still going to travel.”

Malek’s mouth twitched faintly at extremely complicated, though the rest of him remained serious.

“I know.” Malek repeated, quieter this time as his thumb moved across my knuckles.

“Does that scare you?” I stepped closer as I loosened our joined hands enough to lace my fingers properly through his.

“Yes.” Malek admitted without trying to soften the answer. “I don’t like imagining you somewhere I can’t reach quickly. I don’t like the idea that you could be gone for weeks. And I know there will be places I can’t follow without questions.”

That last part mattered. Shifters were hidden from humans, while my life involved airports, cities, hotels, editors, guides, other photographers, and family. My world didn’t stop at the edge of this forest, and neither would my work.

“You’re not asking me to stop.” I said, more observation than question.

“No.” Malek answered immediately, his golden-brown eyes holding mine. “I don’t want a version of you that stays because I made your world smaller.” For a second, all I could do was look at him. Malek’s hand tightened around mine.

“I want you to come back.” Malek continued, his voice dropping lower. “That’s different.” That made it annoyingly hard to keep my expression neutral.

“That I can live with.” I told Malek, squeezing his hand once as some of the tension left my shoulders. Malek exhaled slowly before lifting our joined hands and pressing his mouth against my knuckles. Honey and jasmine warmed beneath my blockers at the simple affection, and Malek’s eyes darkened slightly when the scent reached him. He didn’t comment on it. Instead, he released my hand only long enough to retrieve my water bottle from the side of my pack.

“Drink.” Malek held it toward me, the softness of the moment giving way to his practical side.

“You are unbelievably romantic.” I stared at the bottle for a beat before taking it anyway.

“You haven’t had water in almost an hour.” Malek replied, watching until I actually drank.

“Still romantic.” I muttered against the bottle, hiding my smile behind another drink.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EVIE

A brief afternoon shower arrived less than twenty minutes later. Rainfall in the forest didn’t always build gradually. One moment the canopy was dripping only what it had saved from the previous night; the next, water hammered the leaves hard enough that every other sound disappeared beneath it. Malek caught my camera bag before I could move it and got us beneath a shallow rock overhang farther up the bank while I covered the camera with the protective wrap I carried. The shelter kept most of the rain off, but I had already taken enough across my shoulders that my shirt clung cold and damp against my skin.

“Camera?” Malek asked as he crouched beside me, his attention moving immediately over the protected bag and the water beading along the edges of the wrap.

“Fine.” I checked the seals and wiped moisture from the camera body before placing it safely inside. “Everything important stayed dry.”

Malek’s gaze shifted from the bag to my soaked shirt, pausing on the fabric plastered against my shoulders. “You didn’t,” Malek observed as another gust sent a fine spray beneath the edge of the overhang, his mouth tightening faintly when I shivered.

“I’ve been wetter.” I wrung a section of fabric near my hip and grimaced when cold water ran over my fingers. Without another word, Malek reached for the hem of his own shirt. I caught his wrist before he could pull the fabric upward.

“What are you doing?” I asked Malek, though the answer was already fairly obvious.

“Giving you this.” Malek looked down at my hand around his wrist before lifting his eyes back to mine, his expression suggesting he had no idea why I thought this required discussion.

“You’ll be shirtless.” I pointed out, and my gaze betrayed me by dropping toward the broad chest currently hidden beneath dark fabric.

“I am aware.” Malek replied with enough dry patience that the corner of my mouth twitched.

“That was not my concern.” I released his wrist and made a very deliberate attempt to look somewhere other than his chest.

“I have another shirt in the cache near the old trail.” Malek pulled the charcoal fabric over his head, revealing a broad chest marked by old scars and muscle that I had absolutely seen before and apparently still wasn’t prepared for. “This one is dry.”

Mine was not, which was the practical problem. The less practical problem was that I had suddenly become very interested in the shape of his shoulders. Malek held the shirt toward me, and I took it, my fingers brushing fabric that was still warm from his body.