“I’m sorry, but we only settled here a couple of decades ago. And most of the other immortals in the valley came after us.”
When Kereny seemed to deflate beside him, he asked, “Are there any other nymphs in the forest who might have been here longer?”
“Nymphs don’t enter that forest anymore,” Iona said, giving no explanation. “But Loa texted that she is also on the case, and there’s little the priestess can’t uncover.”
“Thank you,” Kereny murmured.
Munro said, “You should know that we might have unexpected company. We’ve taken steps to cloak ourselves, but Jels will stop at nothing to capture us.”
One of the daughters sneered, “The Conniver.”
Iona’s expression grew strained, and that tension he’d sensed in them increased. “We heard you destroyed the Forgotten’s time-travel gateway. That can’t possibly be true, though?”
“It is.” Would they know about Ariza?
Another daughter said, “I don’t suppose you somehow brought down the entire statue of Tempus?” Each of them seemed to be holding her breath.
“Aye, I knocked it to the ground. The whole temple was raining down around my ears when I—”
Cheers rang out, all the nymphs talking at once: “She’s free!” “At last!” “Thank the gods!”
Iona began to cry. “Thank this wolf! We are in his everlasting debt.”
Kereny asked, “Who is free?”
With tears streaming down her face, Iona said, “My youngest daughter. The Forgotten abducted her from the Cursed Forest a decade ago and sacrificed her to Tempus, her soul trapped by him for all time. We were told by an oracle that only the destruction of the statue would release her. My little one is finally, finally free!”
Munro recalled that cyclone of energy funneling up from the statue’s chest. Had he saved Ariza and her sister from Tempus’s grip as well?
Iona and her daughters hugged each other, but their relief actually increased Munro’s own disquiet. How many Lykae thought of nymphs only as easygoing companions for a roll in the hay, as nameless others? He remembered a male clan elder saying, “A night with a nymph will never be more than a night with a nymph, which means they were made for us to enjoy and forget.”
These females had hopes, dreams, fears. Same as everyone.
Iona used her apron to dry her tears. “Munro MacRieve, we will post watches around the clock. If you have unexpected company in our home, we’ll protect you and your mate with our lives.”
Though he appreciated the offer of the watch, he didn’t count on much protection. The nymphs weren’t warriors. In large-scale conflicts, they’d always remained neutral, refusing to pick sides—yet more reason why they shouldn’t have been targeted by the warlocks.
“My thanks,” he said absently.
“Well, I’m sure you two are ready to be bathed and settled,” Iona said. “After all, you’ve only waited your immortal lifetime for this eve.”
She expected Munro to claim his human mate tonight? Did Kereny think he’d press his suit? To reassure her, he said, “We’re both done in. Sleep is the first order of business.”
The innkeeper glanced from Kereny to him and smiled knowingly. “Uh-huh.”
TWENTY-NINE
If Munro and I were truly in a battle of wills, I might lose.
That was Ren’s first thought when she spied him dressed for dinner, awaiting her as she exited the bathroom. Her second thought: He’s the most devastating male I’ve ever beheld.
His face was shaven, his bronzed skin smooth. His thick, dark hair reached his collar. Black leather pants and a fitted white shirt highlighted his muscular physique.
At her wedding, she’d considered him a savage animal. Now she scarcely believed that she’d caressed this immortal’s body. Had touched the tip of his—
“What a beauty you are, Kereny.” His gaze went molten as it leisurely roamed over her. His spellbinder’s smile revealed white, even teeth. “You take my breath away.”
Her mind momentarily blanked at that smile. It called on her body to relax, but she couldn’t.
She’d never had more work to do. “Magic can do wonders,” she said crisply, though the Dream Duds had taken some getting used to.
When she’d applied the charm to her forearm, her skin had absorbed it. In moments, the blood and mud covering her had disappeared until her hair and body smelled as if she’d just stepped from a bath.
She’d imagined clothes, then sucked in a breath when silk underpants and a bandeau brassiere appeared. Next had come a white blouse, fawn-colored pants, and a fitted vest like the cobalt one Vanda had embroidered for her. Sleek hunting boots and a new holster for her blade had rounded out her ensemble.
As the holster materialized around her upper arm, the compression had reassured her. Time to get to work. . . .
The wolf drew closer, giving her a hint of his stone-pine scent, and her heartbeat thudded. “Once you have hearing like mine,” he murmured, “you’ll know my heart reacts the same way to you.”