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was one thing to fear that Jacob had been caught by a bunch of locals and beaten because he was high-blood. It was another to fear he’d been actually lured there.
    “Fine.” Walking forward, she reached through the barrier.
    Once she had a hold of his hand, he easily stepped through the shield, a wry smile twisting his lips.
    “Was that truly so hard?”
    “Yes.”
    Turning, she led him through the back door of the cottage and straight into the kitchen.
    There was no point in standing outside. Not when the heat was still smothering.
    Besides, she wanted her dinner.
    Entering on her heels, Mika closed the door and bypassed her to take a slow inventory of the small space.
    He quickly skimmed over the white painted cabinets and appliances that had seen better days, instead lingering on the framed pictures of her parents that she’d placed on a wooden shelf.
    “Where are they now?” he asked.
    She shrugged as she reached into the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine.
    “I think they’re still in the Congo,” she said. “But the last letter I had from Mother said that they thought they would be traveling to visit me before they went to New Zealand for their next mission.”
    He turned to watch her pour two glasses of wine.
    “Does it bother you that they spend so much time away from you?”
    “Of course not.” She automatically denied any regret that her parents always put their careers as teachers before their only child. They loved her. Of course they did. It was just . . . “Do you want some dinner?”
    “Very much.” He crossed the floor to watch as she spooned out two plates of the eggplant parmesan. “Smells good.”
    She snorted, even as she took a deep breath of his potently male scent.
    Oh . . . hell. She’d missed that intoxicating combination of warm skin and sandalwood soap.
    When he’d had to leave Valhalla, she’d slept with one of his shirts on just so she could be surrounded by the feel of his presence.
    Now she struggled not to press her face to the curve of his neck and suck in a deep breath.
    “You hate when I cook,” she muttered.
    He brushed a finger down her cheek, as if sensing her traitorous thoughts.
    “Only when you try to make me eat tofu,” he teased, flashing his rare, extraordinarily beautiful smile. Her heart came to a painful halt. For a breathless second their eyes locked, a dangerous awareness fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Then Mika dropped his hand and grabbed the two plates to head to the tiny wooden table that was pushed against one wall. “Besides, it’s been hours since lunch. I’m starving.”
    She followed behind him with the wine, settling in her seat as she watched Mika sit across from her.
    It felt disturbingly right.
    She shoved aside the unwanted thought as Mika took a cautious taste of the eggplant.
    “Well?” she prompted.
    He swallowed, his expression genuinely startled. “It’s good. I mean, really good.”
    She couldn’t halt her burst of laughter. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
    He went hunter still, the air heating. A Sentinel always ran hotter than norms, and when their passions were aroused they could actually affect the temperature.
    A blast of lust raced through Bailey.
    God, the memory of having that hot, hard-as-steel body pressing her into a mattress was something she’d battled against on a nightly basis.
    “Your eyes shimmer like the finest emeralds in the candlelight,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress.
    Her fork dropped onto the plate, her body instinctively swaying forward.
    Mika had been her one and only lover.
    And even after all these years, he still could make her shiver with need.
    Dangerous . . .
    The voice whispered through her mind, and with a tiny gasp she forced herself to sit back in her chair.
    God. What was wrong with her?
    She’d built a new life for herself. It would be the worst sort of stupidity to open herself up to more pain.
    “Tell me about the map,” she abruptly demanded.
    Just