“Truce.”
Her hand held warmth despite the cold wind that had sprung up across the water. The pressure of her handshake told Zander she was no pushover but the softness of her skin reminded him that she was young and vulnerable.
Deep inside him, a protectiveness stirred to life. He tried to tamp it down but the spark wouldn’t die.
Hmm, Zander thought as he climbed to his feet and started for the aft cabin. That might be a problem.
* * *
The truce lasted until Zander led Rae into the cabin under the deck—or as he put it, below.
Rae looked around in dismay. “You live here?”
“Yeah,” Zander said. “What’s wrong with it?”
It was a huge mess, that’s what was wrong with it. Junk lay everywhere, on the tiny table built into the wall, on the counters and benches, on the floor. Every horizontal surface was piled with fishing tackle, maps, books, a laptop, a tablet, clothes, blankets, pots and pans, plates, silverware, coiled wire, tools . . . Rae gave up trying to identify it all.
“Doesn’t everything fly around when you hit rough water?” she asked in amazement.
“Sure.” Zander picked up a hammer from the table and tossed it to a bench. “But I’m up top trying to keep the boat afloat. There’s no one down here for it to hit.”
“There will be if I have to stay here.” Rae lifted a bench seat, figuring she’d find storage space in there. It was likewise stuffed with junk. “Seriously?”
Zander shrugged. “I don’t stay out here forever. It’s never been a problem.”
Rae growled in frustration and started pulling things out of the compartment. “You’re a slob. Like most bears.”
“Excuse me?” Zander was down in a crouch beside her, the largeness of him unnerving. “All bears are not slobs. Most of them are painfully neat. Obnoxiously neat. Don’t stereotype.”
“All right, then you’re a mess.”
His warmth touched her. In spite of the clutter in here, Zander was clean, smelling of wind and the outdoors, his clothes spotless. Unlike the pilot of the speedboat, Zander obviously liked to bathe.
“You don’t have to do this,” he growled as Rae started organizing junk into piles.
“Yes, I do. Didn’t you say something about sandwiches?”
“I might not have enough for both of us. I had no idea I’d have company.”
“That’s not my fault,” Rae said, trying to keep the pain out of her voice. “My dad pretty much grabbed me and hustled me away. First I was on a plane, then on that tiny boat. I’d never flown before. Great first time, strapped to a seat so I wouldn’t run like hell.”
Rae heard her words breaking but she would not cry. Not in front of Zander the weird-ass, slobby bear.
“Peace, Little Wolf.” Zander’s very large hand landed on her back with gentleness she wouldn’t have guessed. “I know this isn’t your doing. The Goddess chooses whom she pleases, and Shifters like you and me pay for it.”
His touch was soothing, nice. Eoin and Rae’s brothers calmed her with hugs or caresses when she was upset but this felt different. Zander’s hand was as warm and strong as her brothers’ or father’s but the tingle in her blood was new.
But then, Zander was a healer. Probably some healing magic or whatever seeped into her when he touched her. It wasn’t a bad feeling—not that she’d ever admit it out loud.
Zander lifted his hand and unfolded to his feet, the sudden absence of his warmth making Rae cold. He discarded his duster, tossing it on top of another pile, and moved to the small refrigerator tucked under the table.
“There’s no reason to clean the place up,” he said. “I know where everything is.”
Rae kept on sorting things into categories—tools, fishing gear, books, and . . . miscellaneous. Into the last pile went stuff she had no idea what to do with—old coins, a bunch of sage wrapped with wire, a compass and an astrolabe, unused spiral notebooks, sticks of incense, empty water bottles.
“What is all this for?” she asked, curious.
Zander was clattering around in the refrigerator. Rae didn’t want to think about what kind of mess could be in there.
“I’m always looking for ways to enhance the healing,” he said. “I never know what might help.”
Rae drew out a book on the magical properties of crystals and stones. “This stuff is for humans. Has nothing to do with Shifters.”
“Some humans are magical,” Zander said, his voice muffled as he went through the small refrigerator. “Not the same way as Shifters or Fae—thank the Goddess. But some can do spells and shit. I know a lady from New Orleans who has all kinds of abilities. She even mated with a Shifter. Go figure.”
Eoin had told Rae that Zander was an amazing healer, that he’d pulled more than one Shifter back from the brink of death, even healed a Shifter who’d gone completely feral. He did it by closing his eyes, touching them, and saying prayers to the Goddess. No incense or crystals, magic circles, or any other accoutrements.
So why was he hoarding human magic charms, many of which, Rae had heard, didn’t work at all?
When he didn’t answer, Rae glanced across the cabin to see Zander’s jeans cupping a very trim ass as he bent double at the small refrigerator.
He straightened up, arms full of foil-wrapped packets, his two thin braids swinging on either side of his face. Made her wonder why he’d done his hair that way. Because he thought it looked cool? Or believed it another way to enhance his magic? Or to keep up the idea Shifters had that Zander was crazy?
“I’ve got ham and cheese, roast beef, and salami, I think,” Zander was saying. “Or maybe it’s pastrami. Which do you want?”
Rae gaped at the shining foil pile, counting a dozen packets. “Why did you say you didn’t have enough sandwiches?”
“For two Shifters? For who knows how long?” He shook his head. “We’re going to have to stock up.”
“I’ll have the ham and cheese,” Rae said.
Zander plucked a foil lump off the top and tossed it to her. “I think that’s it.”
It was roast beef. Rae shrugged and bit down after she’d inspected the sandwich. It looked fine, no mold on the bread, nothing that smelled like it shouldn’t. At least he kept his food clean.