Warmth flushed her cheeks. “Then by all means, I must become a Lykae at once.” She snapped her fingers in the air. “A magical ring, please!”
He chuckled, a rich, raspy sound that made her belly clench. Still smiling, he said, “The nymphs just brought over our meal.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?” So now he was to be all charm and good humor?
When she took his arm, potent chemistry sparked between them. Damn that wolf. Even Jacob had seen some kind of tie between her and the Lykae.
As they headed to the dining area, she used the time to collect herself, which meant looking at anything but the towering male beside her.
The guesthouse enchanted her anew. Tasteful tapestries adorned the walls, and wood beams curved along the ceilings. The windows displayed twilight views of the spectacular Transylvanian landscape.
To the east, the Carpathians loomed, bordered by the Cursed Forest. To the west spread verdant hills, dotted with shepherd huts.
Maybe once she returned to her time, she would bring Jacob to this valley and tell him all about her unbelievable adventure.
In the meantime, she and Munro would be forced to share this “romantic” guesthouse—home of many conceptions. Iona expected Ren and Munro to consummate their matehood tonight. Did he?
At the idea, tingles raced from Ren’s scalp to her toes.
“You’re wearing your poker face,” he said. “Our battle of wills is afoot, no?”
She cast him a confident smile. “Oh, Munro, you’ll only be able to discern my moves in retrospect.” He had no idea of her grand plans—or his role in them.
Eyes lively, he said, “I look forward to it.”
They entered the dining room. Candles on the table and a fire in the tiled hearth lent the area a soft glow. The opened windows allowed in the tinkling cadence of wind chimes.
Aromatic scents carried from steaming platters. Despite her nervousness—what exactly would a Lykae eat?—her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t had a bite since before the wedding. She and Vanda had taken a light repast, enjoying fruit, spiced tea, and sparkling conversation. At the memory, a pang twisted Ren’s chest.
Munro pulled out a high-backed chair near the fire and gestured for her to sit.
She obliged him. “One could almost mistake you for a gentleman.”
“Relish this moment, then, for that is no’ often the case.” He crossed to the sideboard. “What’s your drink?”
“Brandy. A small amount.”
He poured one for her and a whiskey for himself. Aside from his short black claws, his hands and fingers looked human and were as well-formed as everything else about him.
As he offered her the brandy, their fingers touched. When currents jolted between them from that tiny contact, doubts arose about her plan. What if Lothaire didn’t get back to Loa for years? Ren feared she wouldn’t be able to resist this chemistry for another night, much less a decade!
Munro took a seat at the table. “You hide it well, but my Instinct is warning me that your nerves are frayed.”
How could they not be? Everything was up in the air. Should she hate him for stealing her from her life, or thank him for saving it? Do I count on seeing everyone I love again—or grieve them?
Even her feelings about Loreans were in flux. In one day, she’d encountered kindness from a voodoo priestess, graciousness from the nymphs, and gentle patience from a random storm demon.
Her Lykae kidnapper/possible rescuer flirted with her, his charisma at full force.
What if everything Ren had thought she’d known about immortals was wrong?
Didn’t mean she wanted to become one. She met Munro’s gaze. “I am unsettled. Dinner with a werewolf will do that to a human. Will Iona wheel in a carcass for the second course?”
His lips quirked. “I do love a well-seasoned carcass.”
He was teasing her? “I’m serious. I know little about your species.”
“Then dine with me and learn more. You might discover we Lykae have a lethal food allergy.”
“True. Let’s eat.”
The nymphs had left a bounty: potato bread, salad with honey and cheese, a platter of goulash, and another with grilled steak and vegetables. As Ren ladled selections onto her plate, his gaze followed her every movement.
Her senses remained heightened around him. The food scents were more sublime. The deep, husky notes of his Highland brogue seemed to caress her skin, even as his attention kept her on edge.
Munro served himself, then sampled his meal with impeccable table manners. “Mayhap I’m starving, but this is startlingly good.”
She tasted some of the goulash and went heavy-lidded. “Delicious.” It was spiced with caraway seeds and dressed with the perfect amount of sour cream, just as Vanda made it.
Now, a hundred years later, the world was so different, but at least Ren’s favorite dish remained the same. What else had endured?
What hadn’t?
“Where are your thoughts, lass?”
“On the passage of time and changes. You told me you’d teach me about this era tomorrow, but what about a few general things? I’ve read books set in the future. I want to know if anything matches up.”