Winter Halo (Outcast 2)

Maybe I needed to catch him in the middle of the day, when he had no choice but to go back to work . . .

As dawn began to stir the shadows from the skies—something I felt rather than actually saw in this place of eternal brightness—he reluctantly showered and got dressed.

“So,” he said, catching my hand and tugging me into his embrace. “When will I see you again?”

“What about lunch tomorrow?”

“What about dinner tonight?” His lips moved down my neck.

I smiled. “I’m seeing a friend tonight.”

“Competition?” he said, with a nip on my earlobe.

There was no concern in his voice, just the stirrings of determination. While many shifters were monogamous, the cats weren’t. Like the animal variety that had once roamed this world, female shifters had the final say on who could and couldn’t court them, and it was the males who had to strive for their attention and favor. In the camps, at least during the war, it wasn’t unusual for women to have had many children with different fathers, although those who were not nomadic did tend to stick to the same mate. It was a trait that had, at times, made my task difficult.

“Maybe,” I murmured. “So, are we on for lunch?”

“Indeed. My place or yours?”

I smiled. “Mine is closer.”

“I shall be here at one thirty, then.” He kissed me a final time and then headed out the door.

I took a deep breath and slowly released it. It had been a long night, and my body and muscles ached with fatigue. It had, I thought wryly, been a long, long time since I was this active. Unfortunately, the only way to improve sexual stamina was to keep doing it, and while Charles was a considerate enough lover, he wasn’t . . .

A wry smile touched my lips. The end of that sentence was pretty pointless, given I had no idea what Jonas was like in bed. He might be a selfish lover—I somehow doubted it, but sometimes you could never tell.

Once I’d shifted back to my normal self, I walked back up the stairs and took a long hot shower to wash the scent of sex and Charles from my skin, and to ease the ache in long-disused muscles. All the clothes in the wardrobe had been designed to fit my alter ego, so I increased my bust size just enough that the tunic didn’t fit like a tent all over, then grabbed a scarf to belt in the waist. I also lengthened my hair and changed the structure of my face. The building might not have either cameras or guards, but I couldn’t risk the wrong person spotting the real me coming and going. As I headed back downstairs, I called to Cat and Bear and then set about making breakfast.

I was on to my second cup of strong black coffee by the time they appeared. They zipped around me as usual, but this time their energy was filled with a mix of uncertainty and trepidation.

“What’s happened?” I said, immediately fearing the worst.

Images began to flow through my mind—men and women taking down the steels that had been supporting what remained of the old roof, others moving what equipment had survived the blast into the carryall ATVs that lined the road outside it. Weirdly, there were also other people moving equipment and random bits of furniture in.

I frowned. “Did anyone say why they were doing all this?”

Bear touched me lightly. No, but Jonas is there, supervising.

Then I needed to get over there to see what he was up to—even if I had a bad feeling I wasn’t going to like the answer.

I grabbed a cloak to ward off the chill of the morning air, then headed outside. Bear led the way, but Cat kept closer, her energy playing through the long strands of my hair. Guilt flickered through me. She’d missed me.

Finding the children is what matters now, she said. We have plenty of time; they do not.

I smiled. She might have been only seven in human years when she died, but she’d always been far wiser than most adults. Even if at times she was as playful and silly as any child.

Her energy slapped me lightly even as her giggles spun around me. My smile became a grin as I headed through the gates and into the warmth of real sunlight. The rail platforms were filled with people, all of them patiently waiting for the next lot of pods to arrive. I wove my way through them, then headed across the road toward the museum. There were only two ATVs stationed outside the museum now. Both vehicles were still being loaded, and two of the museum’s security guards watched proceedings from either side of the door.

One of them stepped forward and held out a hand as I drew near. “I’m sorry, miss, but the museum has been closed down for the immediate future.”

Which might be good news depending on whether the temporary closure simply meant they hadn’t yet decided what to do with it, or if it was a first step toward demolishing it.

But if it was the latter, why were they taking stuff into it?

“Are you refurbishing it?” I motioned toward what looked like movement monitors two men were carrying inside.

The guard snorted. “No, we are not. I’m afraid you’ll have to go back—”