Page 95 of Harnessed in Gold

“Only one,” Leo replies. “River. He’s from our clan.”

“River the Wolf?”

Rime blinks at me, surprised, perhaps, that I remembered this detail. Leo nods, apparently not surprised at all.

Rime explains, “Because of him, we couldn’t get close enough to see if the other two had any telltale features. Fangs, claws, slitted pupils?—”

“Because he could smell you?” I guess.

He nods. “We don’t know for sure that’s his gift, but it is with most wolf weavers.”

What other gifts could wolves offer? Good hearing? The ability to rally a devoted pack?

Flesh-tearing jowls?

I dare to ask Rime, “Are you still planning to get a gun?”

“Yes, a ghrá.”

My stomach sinks despite the gentle, patient tone of his answer. “How?”

“I’m—what is it you say?—exploring options.”

I shoot Leo a pleading look, but his only reply is a sympathetic shrug. It’s not like he’s the boss of Rime, especially when it comes to the fighting side of this mission. He has to defer to the militiaman on these matters, just as Rime has to defer to him on the research. It’s probably killing them both to be so cooperative.

Leo rises, eyes on me. “Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“I had a big dinner, but a drink would be nice.”

He waves me toward the kitchen, but Rime halts us both with the firm declaration, “The couch is yours tonight, Betts.”

“Uh, right,” I say. Byon the couch, he means,not in Leo’s bed.“Of course. Thank you.”

Rime doesn’t have to worry. I might’ve suffered a momentary lapse in judgement last night in Leo’s car, but I’ve got my head on straight now. Stay safe, stay on target, and don’t be ‘a hindrance to the mission.’

Except, the moment we round the corner into the kitchen, every cell in my body screams at me to fall into Leo’s arms. For a beat too long we stand there, gazing at one another, him with his arms crossed and me shrinking into my sweater. And both of us breathing like we’ve climbed twenty flights of stairs.

He moistens his lips, drawing my eyes to them, then mercifully, he turns to the fridge. “Um, I have ginger ale, orange juice, and cabernet sauvignon.”

“Cabernet?”

“Topaz.”

“Ah.” A squeaky laugh puffs out of me. Because I’m unraveling. “Could I have some?” For the love of god, please?

“Sure.” He reaches for the bottle atop the fridge and takes two glasses out of the cabinet.

“That’s quite the generous pour,” I remark as he fills the tumblers well pastthe halfway mark.

He shrugs as he hands me a glass. “It’s been an eventful couple of nights.”

Couple of? Heat overspreads my face. Is he referring to what happened in his car? He doesn’t seem angry about it. Doesn’tfeelangry about it.

But he does feel frustrated.

We both sip. The wine is dry, but good. “Peppery,” I say, as though I’m some sort of wine connoisseur.

One corner of Leo’s mouth tugs up before he takes another sip. “So are you going to tell me what you were talking about when you said you freaked Liv out?”