Wilder by Christina Dodd Page A

important?”
    “Not at all. Nothing is as important as the safety of my guest.” He debated telling her the truth. “We’re getting close to the Guardian cave.”
    “Yes.”
    “There’s light there.”
    “Yes?”
    “I wonder what you’ll think when you see me.”
    “Do I seem the delicate type?” She turned so quickly, he almost lost his grasp on the flashlight. “Go ahead. Show me.”
    He realized his jaw was unattractively ajar. He shut it. “I’m not ready,” he said, and sighed. He sounded like a virgin.
    “What have you got to do?” she asked. “Shave first?”
    “You have a smart mouth.” He’d had to face this particular fear before. He’d had to brace himself for other people’s horrified reactions.
    But Charisma
mattered
.
    “Yes, I do have a smart mouth. Also, I’m insensitive to others’ feelings.” She paused. “What are you going to do about it?”
    He found himself grinning. “I’m going to scare you with . . .
the monster
!” Like a Boy Scout trying to frighten the other campers, he raised the flashlight under his chin.
    Her loud, terrified gasp startled him. He hadn’t expected her to actually . . .
    Shit.
Now she was stifling laughter.
    She wasn’t afraid. She’d been pulling his paw. “Fine.” Disgusted, he brought the flashlight out a little farther so she could actually see him.
    Silence.
    How odd to stand here in the dark, the only puddle of light the one he directed at himself, at his misshapen body wrapped in a cotton tunic, and wait for judgment from a woman he barely knew, but cared about too much.
    Finally, she said, “You’re very tall. I envy you that. I’m on the petite side.”
    “You’re short,” he said without thinking.
    “I see I’m not the only one who’s insensitive.”
    Apparently she wasn’t as impressed with his looks as he expected. Or maybe she was just being tactful—although that seemed out of character. “So what do you think?”
    “Of you? I think there are monsters, Guardian. I’ve seen them. I’ve met them. But you’re not one of them.” She took his hand, the one with the flashlight, and shone it in front of them again. “Come on. I want out of here before I . . .”
    “Before you go back to wherever you were going?”
    “I wouldn’t know how,” she admitted. “Not while I’m awake, anyway.”
    They started walking again.
    “That must have been quite a dream, to take you so far in the dark,” he said.
    “I don’t remember.” Her voice sounded obstinate.
    Whatever she had dreamed, she wouldn’t share it with him.
    He understood. Most of his dreams weren’t fit to share, either. Most of his dreams would scare a demon into church.
    The trail became a tunnel. The tunnel began to lighten.
    They approached the large, arched entrance of the Guardian cave. Here light seeped in from above. He looked down at her, saw how thin she was, remembered her illness and Dr. King’s worries. “How are your eyes?” Guardian asked. “Should you put on the blindfold again?”
    “Not yet.” He heard the note of panic in her voice. “Let me see where I am. Let me see that this is not a fevered figment of my imagination.”
    “It’s pretty fevered,” he said. “Trust me. When I first saw the cave . . . to start with, I was crazy, so maybe it doesn’t matter what I thought then. But I still think the cave is . . .” Words failed him. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “We can check it out, but only if you’ll promise me that if your eyes hurt, you’ll let me know.”
    “I’m stubborn, but not stupidly stubborn. I’m not going to risk my eyesight for a tour.”
    “Then come on.” He stopped her just outside the entrance. “I envy you this first glimpse. It’s . . . bizarre. Odd. Fabulous. Glorious. A place beyond reason.”
    “Okay!” She smiled. Dimples quivered. Her green eyes lit up with curiosity and greed. “You’ve sold me. Let’s see it.”
    He guided her into the cave. His people