“Ah, right. Yes.” He scratches the back of his neck. I move to get the plate—to put something—anything—between us.
“So your studio is outside and not in the house?”
He takes the plate and leans against the doorway. “Yeah, the fumes from soldering are toxic. It’s safer for me to work out here.”
“And your specialty is metalworking?”
“Jewelry and designs. Welding. I make whatever inspires me. Come on, I’ll show you.” He turns and drops the foil on the work table. Fishing around a drawer, he appears with two forks. He offers one to me.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Sue clearly gave me enough to share.” He raises an encouraging eyebrow and the pierced hoop glints in the studio lights. Damien is covered in decorations. Tattoos, piercings, rings, and bracelets. Silver, mostly, but it shines in the light. Now that he’s bandaged and we’ve created some distance, I study him a bit closer.
Two wolves are tattooed in dark gray and black on each shoulder, intricately designed. He lifts the fork to his mouth and a silver ring on his finger catches my attention. I ask, “Did you make all the jewelry you’re wearing?”
“Most of it.” He eats a roll by shoving the whole thing in his mouth at once. After he swallows he says, “Like you, I have some sentimental pieces.”
“Which one?”
“Which do you think?”
My eyes roam his body. His buff arms and chiseled chest. I only have an idea of what his abs look like and the thought twists me into knots. I skim over the studs lined up his ear. Beneath the tank I see the outline of metal and know his nipples must be pierced as well. I focus on the amulet hanging from his neck on a leather cord. Although it’s beautiful, I don’t think it’s special. Not like my charm.
My attention returns to the ring and I catch his hand in mine as he takes another bite of his lunch. He chews as I run my finger over the carved silver. I realize almost immediately it’s a long blade twisted around his finger.
“This one.”
He watches me closely. “Why?”
I shake my head but feel the hum of energy coming off the ring. “I’m not sure but I know it’s the one.”
“Metals and jewels carry many properties. Protection and power. Health and wealth. I use different ones to accomplish a variety of things, endurance or even strengthening resolve.”
I touch the ring again and feel the hum. “What about this one?”
“It’s gold fused with palladium. It signifies guardianship.”
I’m not sure what that means but simply say, “I could tell it’s special.”
We stare at one another and he brushes a piece of hair off my cheek. “You’re the one that’s special, Morgan. Never forget.”
Chapter 9
Dylan
Once dinner is complete, the table is clear, and Morgan’s room has gone quiet, the others, one by one, gather in the first floor library. Clinton arrives last and locks the door behind him. It’s the first time we’ve all met since she arrived at the Nead.
We take our places; Bun and Sam on the plush couch, Damien sits on a leather armchair facing the expansive back windows. Clinton never sits, instead hovering by the entrance. Me? I stand.
The five of us have known one another for eons. We’re not quite brothers, but close enough; soldiers, warriors, even a criminal or two. Assigned as guards between the worlds. For Morgan.
“She seems to be settling in,” I say to the group. “Unpacked. Working. Freely walking around the house.”
“She came to see me in my studio,” Damien comments. “Although she has a lot of questions and I believe a hint of intuition, she’s blind to her purpose here.”
There’s been a fire in his eyes all evening. I expect us to all have one soon—Morgan is like an infection passing to one another. I glance at Bunny and note, even beneath the gentle exterior, he seems a little more spirited.
“Did you get the same sense?” I ask him. “I’m aware she spent time in your studio. She took the mark well?”