“Rhona’s not asking that of you. She is asking you to work with her,” Balladyn corrected.
Elias studied the Druid leader for a long minute. “In the short time I’ve been back home, I’ve seen the lengths you’ll go to in order to protect the Druid community. Corann made a good choice with you.”
“Wait, Elias,” Rhona called.
But he ignored her as he strode from the house. Elias half-expected Balladyn to teleport him back inside, but no one stopped him as he walked through the rain and got into the rental car. He waited until he was a few miles from the cottage before pulling over and putting the vehicle in park.
“Fucking hell!” he yelled as he slammed his hands against the steering wheel.
Elias gripped the leather so tightly that his knuckles turned white. There was a reason George had pointed the finger at him. And he was going to find out what that was.
CHAPTER TWO
Bronwyn hated when she had to make a trip into town. She parked and shut off the old SUV’s engine but didn’t get out, she just watched the rain pelting the windshield until it completely distorted the outside world.
She felt like the glass. Bombarded. Flooded. Engulfed. She stared at the building before her—the only place within miles to get grocery items. It also doubled as a post office. The co-op stocked a little of everything.
Bronwyn drew in a deep breath and steeled herself. Maybe she’d get lucky, and not many people would be inside. The longer she waited, the more she tried to talk herself into coming back another time.
“For fuck’s sake. I’m an adult,” she mumbled and shoved open the vehicle door.
It creaked loudly, metal rubbing against metal. As soon as she stepped out, the rain drenched her. Bronwyn pulled up her raincoat’s hood and slammed the door closed. She walked toward the store, her wellies splashing in the puddles.
A small bell chimed when she entered the co-op. Almost immediately, her gaze landed on four people toward the back. They didn’t look her way, but they didn’t need to for her to recognize them. Her fight or flight response wavered as she contemplated leaving until the sound of the cash register drawer closing drew her attention. Bronwyn’s gaze met the pale green eyes of the cashier, Kirsi.
They had never been enemies, but Bronwyn wouldn’t call her a friend either. Kirsi thanked the customers who had just paid, but her eyes never left Bronwyn. There was no way Bronwyn would leave now. She shoved back the hood of her coat, lifted her chin, and grabbed a basket as she started down the aisle.
Pulling out her mobile phone, she opened it to the list. Coming into town for necessities always made for the worst days for Bronwyn. Today, she was determined to buy enough that she wouldn’t have to return for at least a month. It made her contemplate getting deliveries again, but that meant spending more, and she was stretching money as far as she could at the moment as it was.
The only way to make things better would be to disappear altogether. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. Well, it was, but she couldn’t do that quite yet. So, that left her in her current predicament: the despised errand day.
It wasn’t as if she particularly liked food. Honestly, she’d be fine not eating if that were an option. Sadly, it wasn’t. Food kept her alive. Nothing more. Nothing less. She didn’t understand people who called themselves foodies. What even was that? And she certainly didn’t understand those who loved to cook.
Bronwyn gathered the items she needed and moved to the next aisle, inwardly berating herself for not paying closer attention. She’d ended up in the aisle with the group she’d seen when she first entered, and there was no escape now either because Sarah, the leader of the pack, had caught sight of her.
“Well, well, well,” Sarah said as she put back the can she’d been looking at. “What do we have here?”
“A drowned rat,” Lizzie said with a snooty laugh.
Sarah grinned, her malicious intent clear. “A drowned rat, indeed. Bronwyn, you look worse for wear. I mean, that hair. Really?”
Bronwyn felt her wet hair sticking to the sides of her damp face. She fought the urge to reach up and shove it away. Sarah was a bully and had been since they were children. Sadly, she hadn’t grown out of it in the years since—nor had the others who ran around with her.
Bronwyn generally ignored their snippy comments. Usually, people left her alone for the most part because they were afraid of her. While Bronwyn hated that people crossed the street to get away from her, she could do without Sarah. Maybe it was time to put a little fear in her old frenemy.
The bell over the door dinged as someone entered the building. Bronwyn kept her gaze on Sarah as she closed the distance between them. The trepidation that flashed on Sarah’s face almost made Bronwyn smile—that was always the case when someone stood up to a bully.
“You have something to say about my hair?” Bronwyn asked in a soft voice.
Sarah swallowed nervously and tried to back up, but the shelves and her friends blocked her way. “It’s…it’s wet.”
“Very perceptive.” Bronwyn looked her over slowly. “Perhaps I should say something about you. I know just the words.”
“No need.”
The fear that rolled off Sarah was palpable. Bronwyn held Sarah’s gaze as she muttered something unintelligible and walked away. Bronwyn blew out a breath, only to discover other customers staring at her. As soon as she met their gazes, they hurriedly looked away, partly in fear and partly in disgust.
All but one person.
The man stood in the next aisle, watching her over the short shelves. He shoved his wet, dark blond hair away from his face, though a thick lock fell back over his forehead. His bright blue eyes held her entranced, utterly enthralled. It felt as if he saw through all her defenses and straight to her soul—laying all her secrets bare.
He didn’t stare at her with contempt or quickly lower his gaze, hoping she didn’t notice him. No, he looked at her. Unable to help herself, she studied him, noting the handsome face and square jaw dusted with a shadow of a beard that made him even more appealing. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and she realized that his lips had curved into a smile. That was when she noticed his mouth. Surely, a man shouldn’t have such full lips—lips that made her think of his mouth against hers and slow, wet kisses.
Deep, scorching, hungry kisses.
Her heart pounded, her breaths came faster, harsher, and her blood heated. This was desire. Sizzling, brazen, beautiful desire.