Free Autumn Moon by Jan DeLima Page B

kitchen. A fire flickered in the stone hearth, but otherwise it was empty. “Where’s Elen?”
    â€œIn her bedroom.” Silent until then, Joshua tilted his head toward the hallway that led to the upper rooms. He clearly wasn’t pleased by his parents’ protective company. Gods willing, he would live long enough to one day cherish it.
    Cormack took the stairs two at a time and bumped his head on the eaves as he turned the corner, unaccustomed to navigating at this height. The upper chambers originally consisted of three bedrooms, but the center room had been replaced some time ago with a fully functioning bathroom. Like many cottages in this area, pine boards covered the ceiling and floors, a common resource from the northern woods.
    â€œIt’s me,” he announced as he entered the master chamber, annoyed that he felt the necessity. Decent sized, the room fit a large bed and several cabinets to organize Elen’s clothes. His territorial instincts rose with his beast. He’d slept with her in that bed more nights than he could remember, covered by quilted blankets while listening to the even sounds of her breathing. Obviously they’d been platonic nights, but he considered this room his as much as hers. The fact that his bags remained in the spare room felt wrong.
    â€œIn here,” she called from her closet as a pair of flat shoes and shiny pants flew onto the floor behind her.
    He approached, and her scent greeted him as he walked through a haze of moist sweetness. “You showered?”
For that putrid ass?
“Why?”
    â€œBecause I was covered in dust from my lesson.”
    Then he saw her. And within the breadth of seconds his annoyance transformed to lust. He halted by the end of the bed and could do nothing but stare, unable to move as resentment roiled in his gut.
    Unaware, Elen bent to gather her strewn items as butter-colored material flowed around her graceful form. The garment reminded him of frilly frosting, sweet, layered and edible to the core.
    â€œYou’ve heard, I assume,” she said without looking in his direction—too comfortable with his company to sense danger. Six months of separation had not lessened their familiarity, even if it had only been the bond of friendship.
    â€œThey shouldn’t be here,” she continued. Her voice was thick with concern, as he knew it would be. “Joshua is as stubborn as his parents.” She cast him a quick glance over her shoulder—an exposed shoulder, he noticed, in that concoction of cloth designed to display her body in all its womanly perfection. When her eyes met his, her features fell, misinterpreting what she saw. “Pendaran’s here.”
    â€œNot yet,” he clipped. “And you’re not wearing that.” Tempted to shred the thing, he fisted his hands by his side. “Take it off.”
    â€œWhat?” She closed the closet door and her skirts fanned about her to settle into each and every one of her divine curves.
    â€œThat . . .” He paused, forcing a calming breath into hisburning lungs. “That
thing
you’re wearing doesn’t protect you. Remove it.”
    â€œYou’re overreacting,” she argued, unaware of her precarious position. “It’s dated, but I can move freely in it, and I’m fully covered.”
    Which only proved how misaligned this current culture was.
    He didn’t care a frog’s fuck about it being dated. It was provocative, and she intended to wear it in the company of their enemy—that’s all he cared about. Clothing that teased offered far more temptation than full nudity, and that
thing
she wore was designed for such a purpose.
    â€œTake it off,” he repeated for the third—
and last
—time. “Now.”
    â€œNo.” Her spine straightened with determination, which only served to swell her breasts above the low neckline of the garment she wouldn’t be