Page 84 of Blood & Claw

The change was coming.

Hands clenched tight by his side, he hurried from Ardroth. Dark pines beckoned, and he broke into a shambling run as he approached them. The sharp scent of conifers caught in the back of his throat, and branches, sticky with sap, brushed at him, yet he ran on, crashing through the moonlit copse until he came to a clearing where a small burn bubbled across pale rocks.

Hands trembling, he tore at his clothes, unlacing ties and unfastening buckles. The sharp air bit at his skin, but it couldn’t douse the fire that now roared through him.

Just a few moments; that was all he had.

Darach kicked off his boots, and then the impact came, like a heavy punch to the stomach, and he doubled over.

“You didn’t come back last night. I was worried.”

“I slept in the stables.”

Ailsa watched as Dale tightened Rùn’s girth. “Why would you do that?”

“I thought it best.” His manner was stiff, unusually formal. Over the past days, they’d relaxed a little in each other’s company. And last night, before the kiss, she’d felt that a friendship of sorts had developed between them. He acted like a stranger now.

She pulled her cloak closer about her to ward off the chill, her gaze narrowing. Best for whom?

Around them, the morning sparkled with frost. The sun had just cleared the treetops to the east. She’d emerged a short while ago from their lodgings to find him saddling his stallion.

He hadn’t yet met her eye.

“Dale,” she said softly. “Look at me.”

His shoulders tensed. Moments passed, and then he straightened up and turned to face her.

Ailsa frowned. He looked terrible. Even in the shadowy dawn light, she marked the scratch on his cheek, the hollowed gauntness of his face.

His gaze looked normal once more, which was a relief. After he’d fled from their room the night before, she’d retired to her furs, unsettled by both the change in his eyes and his strange behavior. She’d heard that the Shee had eyes with slitted pupils, although theirs were goatlike. His had looked almost … feline.

No, Dale wasn’t one of the fae race who lived in Sheehallion and entered their world through barrows and stone circles. He was a Marav. Like her.

Or maybe he wasn’t. The thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

“I’m not going to pry answers out of you,” she said finally. “Unless you’re hiding something that might prevent me from rescuing Kayla.”

He stared back, a nerve flickering in his cheek. “No.” His voice held an odd rasp. “You need not worry about that.”

He raked a hand through his hair then. She noted that it was slightly damp. He also had pine needles on his fur cloak.

Strange.

“Look, Ailsa … I’m sorry about last night. I let things go too far. I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

Her belly dropped.

So, that was it—he regretted kissing her, did he?

Masking her reaction, she waved him away. “Don’t worry. It’s forgotten.” The lie burned on her tongue. “Let’s just focus on why we’re here.”

She wouldn’t forget, of course. But it was easier to pretend.

He nodded, his expression veiling. He then turned back to saddling Rùn.

Ailsa watched him, her belly clenching. Why did it feel as if he’d just spurned her?

A short while later, he led the stallion out into the yard, and she followed.