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here.”
    She smacked
his chest even as she caught the twinkle in his eye. “I don’t snore!” she
exclaimed indignantly, but she was half-laughing as he said it.
    “I know. I
just love riling you.” He grinned widely. “Your cheeks flush and your eyes
sparkle.”
    Kyra could
feel a blush spreading across her cheeks at his words, and she looked away.
“Now you’re just flattering me.” Before he could respond, she picked up the
basket and walked over to a spot beneath one of the apple trees. “Let’s eat,
shall we?”
    They spread a
blanket out, then removed what turned out to be a veritable feast—cold
ham, cheese, buttery rolls, pickles, and sweet strawberry tarts. “Are you
certain we aren’t missing someone?” she teased. “This is enough to feed a small
army!”
    “Believe you
me, Kyra,” Jake said as he tucked away two rolls piled high with meat and
cheese, “I eat enough for at least one army. Farm work burns a lot of energy.”
    Kyra studied
him over her own sandwich. He was wearing a green shirt, trousers and
boots—simple attire, and yet Kyra had no doubt that if he walked into a
ballroom, every single lady would swoon. The top two buttons of his shirt were
left open so she caught a glimpse of chest hair and the muscles that lay
beneath it, and the trousers showed off his long, muscular legs.
    Surely she
should be more attracted to him, shouldn’t she? He was funny, intelligent,
extremely good looking, and he paid attention to her—real attention, as
if she were not just a woman, but a person too. Many of the men she knew back
home had admired her looks, but hadn’t been willing to give her the time of day
when she tried to engage them in stimulating conversation. As far as they were
concerned, women were to look pretty and make babies, not use their minds.
    “Your mother
makes the best tarts I’ve ever tasted,” Kyra told Jake after biting into one
and savoring the flaky pastry and juicing strawberry filling as it saturated
her tongue. “I really must nag her for the recipe some time.”
    “I’m sure
she’d love to teach you how to make them sometime.” Jake smiled, and then his
eyes turned serious. “Kyra, I’ve noticed that you’re looking a bit… peaky,
lately. Is everything alright? I hope you’re not getting ill.”
    Kyra reached
up to touch her face. There weren’t any mirrors in her aunt’s house, so she
hadn’t really paid much attention to her appearance as of late. Glancing over
at the water, she studied her reflection and winced mentally. ‘Peaky’ was an
understatement. Her face was pale, her eyes heavy and rounded with dark
circles. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked like such.
    “I… I had no
idea,” she murmured, wondering why her aunt had never mentioned it. “I… I
suppose it’s because I haven’t been sleeping very much lately.”
    Jake frowned.
“Why not?”
    Kyra
hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him about her dreams of Bryce, or how the
wolf howling kept her awake at night because she had to fight not to leave her
bed and head back into the woods. It seemed as though the Call, as Bryce had
spoken of it, was strengthening with each night, along with the intensity of
the dreams. It was maddening, as she didn’t want anything to do with it, and
yet short of hitting herself on the head with a board to knock herself out,
there was nothing she could do. And though the lack of sleep was irritating,
she imagined that waking up every morning with a raging headache would be even
more so.
    “I’ve been
having nightmares,” she decided to tell him, which was partially true—she did sometimes still have the nightmares, though the endings were very
different from what they were before she moved out here. “I still dream about
the night the rebels attacked, and when I wake up, I can’t get back to sleep.”
    Jake’s face
softened in sympathy, and he reached over to squeeze her hand. “I’m so sorry,
Kyra,” he said gently. “I