difficult to tell anymore, now that Earthwork science had advanced. He had given her signals, too. A hard-won approving glance here and there, a few lingering stares. He’d made eye contact twice during her advanced project hours.
68
Earthwork
At Solstice, he had stood beside her on the ramparts, and she held her ground during the entire ceremony even as all the other students fled in terror of his presence. Keli had to admit that under starlight, Wolf seemed more like a warlock in children’s scary stories than a wytch. He seemed one with darkness, too comfortable in night’s cloaking embrace.
Embrace…
Keli felt an undeniable throb between her legs, just has she had on Solstice, when his arm brushed hers. In those few electric seconds, his glittering eyes had snared her, acknowledged the contact with the slightest widening, then hardened before he stepped away.
“Ms. Dunkirk,” said a voice too low to be a growl and too solid to be a murmur.
Keli startled from her remembering, then flushed, trembling all the harder. She felt his voice at the base of her spine, spreading up and out, tingling across her nerves. Her mouth opened to answer, but no sound issued forth.
For a moment, Wolf stared at a point somewhere over her left shoulder, as was his habit. Then, with what might have been a sigh, he met her gaze directly. His powerful hands stilled above the examination slates and his jaw set with bored annoyance. “Have you finished?”
Not wanting to, Keli nodded, then felt a fist grip her heart. Tears threatened, but she battled them back. Surely this man would have no woman who broke into tears over small things. Over anything. And yet, this felt like no small thing. She would shortly be forced to surrender her slate, and perhaps her last moment alone with this powerful, magnetic wytch.
Wolf said nothing for another few seconds—endless seconds—as his all-consuming eyes wandered from her forehead to her shoulders, to the damp tips of her hair, to her arms, wrists, fingers…then back to her face, lips to nose to eyes. “Do you plan to stay here all afternoon? I suppose your friends have long since departed for New Orleans.”
His accent, more French than anything, brought a new round of chills, as did the harsh, exacting tone. Was he challenging her somehow? Keli lifted her chin, accepting his dare, if indeed he was daring her anything at all. Perhaps she had simply lost her sanity.
“My friends may do as they please,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “I have no use for parties and celebrations today.”
This seemed to give Wolf a brief pause. His thick brows drew together. “And why do you refuse the day’s celebrations?”
A personal question? Keli’s heartbeat seemed to double again, nearly blocking her voice. By sheer force of will, she spoke, resisting the urge to grab her chalk and fidget with it.
“As you know, my family died in the Uprising. Stonefall is my home, and I feel loath to leave it.”
69
Annie Windsor
“Loath to leave Stonefall,” he echoed, as if approving her choice of words. The force of his gaze intensified, as did the sarcasm—real or feigned—in his voice. “And are you loath to leave anything else, Miss Dunkirk?”
At this, Keli’s cheeks burned hot enough to blister. Somehow, she didn’t flinch from the withering scorch of his stare, or from the sting of his needling insinuation. After some contemplation, she said, simply, “Yes.”
Wolf didn’t speak. Once more, Keli felt measured by his gaze. She was briefly gratified by a minute softening of his harsh expression, and then he said, “One day, you will be a Crone, if you begin now, choosing your own path. That includes men you would take to bed, and men you would leave behind because they are unworthy—or too powerful—for you.”
That calm observation stunned Keli into a motionless silence not unlike stasis. Her breath shortened in her throat, choking down, down, until an air-starved
68
Earthwork
At Solstice, he had stood beside her on the ramparts, and she held her ground during the entire ceremony even as all the other students fled in terror of his presence. Keli had to admit that under starlight, Wolf seemed more like a warlock in children’s scary stories than a wytch. He seemed one with darkness, too comfortable in night’s cloaking embrace.
Embrace…
Keli felt an undeniable throb between her legs, just has she had on Solstice, when his arm brushed hers. In those few electric seconds, his glittering eyes had snared her, acknowledged the contact with the slightest widening, then hardened before he stepped away.
“Ms. Dunkirk,” said a voice too low to be a growl and too solid to be a murmur.
Keli startled from her remembering, then flushed, trembling all the harder. She felt his voice at the base of her spine, spreading up and out, tingling across her nerves. Her mouth opened to answer, but no sound issued forth.
For a moment, Wolf stared at a point somewhere over her left shoulder, as was his habit. Then, with what might have been a sigh, he met her gaze directly. His powerful hands stilled above the examination slates and his jaw set with bored annoyance. “Have you finished?”
Not wanting to, Keli nodded, then felt a fist grip her heart. Tears threatened, but she battled them back. Surely this man would have no woman who broke into tears over small things. Over anything. And yet, this felt like no small thing. She would shortly be forced to surrender her slate, and perhaps her last moment alone with this powerful, magnetic wytch.
Wolf said nothing for another few seconds—endless seconds—as his all-consuming eyes wandered from her forehead to her shoulders, to the damp tips of her hair, to her arms, wrists, fingers…then back to her face, lips to nose to eyes. “Do you plan to stay here all afternoon? I suppose your friends have long since departed for New Orleans.”
His accent, more French than anything, brought a new round of chills, as did the harsh, exacting tone. Was he challenging her somehow? Keli lifted her chin, accepting his dare, if indeed he was daring her anything at all. Perhaps she had simply lost her sanity.
“My friends may do as they please,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “I have no use for parties and celebrations today.”
This seemed to give Wolf a brief pause. His thick brows drew together. “And why do you refuse the day’s celebrations?”
A personal question? Keli’s heartbeat seemed to double again, nearly blocking her voice. By sheer force of will, she spoke, resisting the urge to grab her chalk and fidget with it.
“As you know, my family died in the Uprising. Stonefall is my home, and I feel loath to leave it.”
69
Annie Windsor
“Loath to leave Stonefall,” he echoed, as if approving her choice of words. The force of his gaze intensified, as did the sarcasm—real or feigned—in his voice. “And are you loath to leave anything else, Miss Dunkirk?”
At this, Keli’s cheeks burned hot enough to blister. Somehow, she didn’t flinch from the withering scorch of his stare, or from the sting of his needling insinuation. After some contemplation, she said, simply, “Yes.”
Wolf didn’t speak. Once more, Keli felt measured by his gaze. She was briefly gratified by a minute softening of his harsh expression, and then he said, “One day, you will be a Crone, if you begin now, choosing your own path. That includes men you would take to bed, and men you would leave behind because they are unworthy—or too powerful—for you.”
That calm observation stunned Keli into a motionless silence not unlike stasis. Her breath shortened in her throat, choking down, down, until an air-starved
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