Branches whip at my sleeves; leaves crunch under my boots. My pack thumps against my back. I dodge roots and rocks more by instinct than attention, homing in on that almost tangible sense of presence ahead of me.
Nature Sense is not my gift. But I’ve spent enough time around Boone now that I swear my body has learned the contour of his being in the landscape. I can feel where he is, even when I can’t see him. It’s like my heart leans toward a particular patch of forest and says,There.
I round a bend and almost collide with him.
Boone steps out from behind a cedar at the exact wrong moment, and I barrel straight into what feels like a very solid, very furry wall.
“Oof,” I say eloquently, bouncing back a half step.
His hands—big, familiar, warm—come up automatically, catching my upper arms to steady me.
“Careful,” he says.
His voice is low, a little rough. His eyes are wide, scanning me quickly from head to toe as if expecting to find blood or missing limbs.
“You okay?” he asks. “Did they—did anything happen?”
The frantic concern on his face knocks the breath from my lungs. I grin. “Hi,” I say, breathing hard. “Missed you too.”
He blinks, thrown. “I heard…,” he begins, then stops, jaw tightening.
I know exactly what he heard. Or rather, what hemadeeveryone hear. The memory of that deep, guttural sound rolls through me again, twined with the image of Sam’s hand on my arm.
“You were jealous,” I say.
His expression does something complicated, like I’ve just poked a sore spot and a ticklish one at the same time.
“I was not—” he starts.
“You totally were,” I singsong. I can’t help it. The giddiness bubbling up in me will not be contained. “Big forest roar, birds everywhere, rangers on alert. Classic ‘hey, that’s my human’ behavior.”
He scowls. On anyone else, it would be intimidating. On him, with his ears tinting slightly darker and his hands still on my arms, it just makes me want to climb him like a tree.
“Rangers should not be grabbing you like that,” he mutters. “He had his hand on you. You almost fell.”
“That’s kind of his job,” I point out. “Preventing face-planting. Also, gravity and I were arguing again.”
“He was enjoying it,” Boone says.
I simply look at him. “You could tell that from there?”
“I have very good senses,” he says. “And eyes.”
“You were watching,” I say.
“Of course I was watching,” he snaps, then softens instantly. “You were with humans. The flirt.”
I bite back a smile. “I like when you call him that instead of his name,” I say. “Very dignified of you.”
“I’m allowed to dislike him,” Boone says. “He stands too close.”
I’ve never been more charmed in my life.
“Hey,” I say gently. “Look at me.”
He hesitates, then lifts those molten-gold eyes to mine.
I step closer until my chest brushes his stomach. His grip on my arms tightens, then relaxes, then tightens again, like he can’t decide if he wants to pull me in or let me go for my own safety.