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that look drove everything else from Gerry’s mind, aside from Ghost. “Hey, good morning again,” Gerry whispered. Ghost smiled, tilting his face to invite a kiss, as the Witch cleared her throat.
    “I left some hot water in the washroom, and I’ve got porridge cooking. Clean up, the two of you, and get yourselves to the kitchen for food. Your alpha will be here soon enough, lad.” The Witch turned to leave but paused in the doorway, not bothering to look back. “And open the window a bit in here. The place reeks of sex.”
    Ghost waited until the Witch left, closing the door behind her, before he let out a nervous chuckle. Gerry shrugged, leaning in to take the kiss Ghost had offered. Ghost returned it, his body relaxing all at once
    “Sorry about that,” Gerry said. “I’ll talk to her later, and let her know I’ll be talking to Mother, too. I meant it, Ghost. I want there to be a next time, if you’re willing.” He tried to remember not to hold his breath as he waited for Ghost to answer, wondering how much his expression revealed. It seemed to convey a great deal, because Ghost’s smile lit up the younger man’s face.
    “Yes. I’m willing. This feels right,” Ghost said.
    “We should get up, I guess, before the Witch comes back to yell at us, or worse.” Gerry sat up, Ghost moving with him to slide off the bed and lead the way to the washroom.
    Ghost had to make a grab for his breeches as they threatened to slide off his hips, and he blushed as he tried to wrap them around himself without having to tie them. He gave Gerry a sidelong glance, as if daring the man to laugh, but Gerry did not laugh. Gerry just looked at him with frank appreciation, while Ghost’s blush darkened and his smile lit his eyes.
    “She won’t yell,” Ghost said, ducking his head. “She just bangs the porridge bowls on the table.”
     
    Chapter 4
     
    The Witch was as good as her word, and there was ample hot water for washing. The smell of cinnamon and apples greeted them when they emerged, Ghost’s stomach growling as he balled up the sheets and blankets before he put them aside for washing later. He found his knitted tunic where he had dropped it. He pulled it on, watching Gerry lace up the supple leather tunic, Gerry’s boots at the foot of the bed where Mother had left them.
    Gerry was limping. Ghost felt a chill in the pit of his stomach again as he watched Gerry move. A hunter with a bad leg was at a disadvantage, while a guard who limped was next to useless. It was simply how it was, and Ghost could not see Gerry happy as a merchant. It must have shown on his face when Gerry turned and looked at Ghost.
    “What is it?” Gerry asked, his hand cupping Ghost’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
    Ghost shook his head. “Your leg. You’re limping.” He could feel his heart pounding hard. He was having trouble deciding if it was fear over Gerry’s leg or because Gerry was touching him. “Only a little, I know, but you’re still limping.”
    Gerry smiled. “The Witch told me last night that I might limp for a couple of days, no longer than a quarter-moon. Things got banged around pretty good, but it should be fine. It doesn’t hurt to walk on it, really.” His smile widened. “Are you really worried about me?”
    He felt himself blush, but Ghost did not duck his head. “Hunters need two good legs. You like to hunt. I can hear it in your voice.” He shrugged one shoulder as they entered the warm kitchen. Ghost’s Sight had seemed to indicate that Gerry would heal, but sometimes it was easy to get turned around in visions. Faces were hidden, and there were no clear voices to help him understand.
    “You took long enough,” the Witch said, but she scooped generous bowls of thick porridge cooked with cinnamon and bits of dried apple, setting them on the table without banging them down. She poured hot water into mugs, the fragrant aroma of tea mingling with the porridge. A pot of honey sat on