“I couldn’t sleep,” Thom said. “So I ended up out here. Paul saw something and I—we, really—thought it would be better to let you sleep until we knew whether or not there was an actual threat. We let Cameron and Neve sleep, too.”
“And Phelan?” I asked, planting my hands on my hips. “Did you let him sleep, too?”
Thom cleared his throat uncomfortably. “No. No, he and Seamus went to go talk.”
My heart stopped. “Seamus?”
“Christos,” Thordin swore. “Your voice, Marin, keep it down.”
“Why in god’s name would I do that?” I spat.
Thordin’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he crowded close, leaving J.T. and Sif nearer to the French-accented man and the rest of the Hunt’s breathren. “He leads them, but I don’t think they call him by that name. He told Phelan not to use that name.”
“Oh, to hell with that.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Where’d they go?”
I have to wake Neve. She needs to know. She needs to see him—to see her brother.
Damn it all, he was the fucking Taliesin before Phelan. Does he know more about all of this than he got to tell his cousin? My lips thinned. “Why didn’t you wake Neve?”
“It’s complicated,” Thom said, his voice quiet, gently reasonable. I wanted to punch him in the jaw. He of all people knew better. I gave him a baleful look and shook my head.
“That’s a bad answer and you know it, Thom.”
“Fine, here’ s a worse answer.” He took my face between his cold hands and leaned close enough that we were practically sharing one breath between us. “I wanted to keep you and our son safe and I refuse to apologize for doing that. I’m not sorry.”
I wanted to slap him—to be so angry I couldn’t see straight, to say things that I’d regret later. The words died on my tongue and I couldn’t hang onto the rage no matter how hard I tried.
Sometimes, I hated the fact that I loved him and that he loved me more than anything else in the world.
He kissed me and I let him, rage evaporating like fog.
