A Little Night Muse(13)

                From his standing position, Josh looked down—inadvertently,                     helplessly—at the upper curves of her breasts and the shadow between revealed by                     the shifting veils. Only one fragile lacing seemed to hold the thing together.                     He stepped back before her hand on his thigh triggered greater embarrassment for                     them both.

                The woman’s gaze arrowed up to him. “I need to find the                     Hunter.”

                “You can wait until they get home, but you won’t have any water                     except what you pump from the well. And you’ll be cold as a witch’s...” His face                     heated, and the words popped out of him. “You can wait for them at my                     place.”

                Her eyes widened—so did his; he couldn’t believe he just                     offered this gorgeous creature a bunk—then narrowed with judgment. He knew he’d                     be found wanting. He always was.

                “Very well.” She pushed to her feet—was she wearing gold                     slippers?—which put the top of her dark head below his chin, but she never                     dropped her gaze. “Take me there.”

                Imperious little thing. Misgivings nipped at him. But what                     choice did he have? He couldn’t leave her there alone. Really, taking her back                     with him was the neighborly thing, the only thing he could do.





                                      Chapter 3

                Adelyn stood between the strange beings known as Bunco                     and Wolly while the human known as Josh Reimer—he had given her this information                     freely, as if he didn’t know that names carried their own secret force—went to                     find what he called the main water valve turnoff. Maybe in the sunlit world,                     giving words to everything diluted the power of naming.

                The dog and horse stared at her suspiciously. She knew Wolly                     was just a dog because she had tried to impose the verita                         luna—the Second Truth—on him. Even in her weariness, her musetta powers should have roused him to his alternate                     shape had he been a wereling, but he only sneezed. And the mere horse—sadly                     lacking both a spiraling horn and wings—sidled from her, putting one big hoof in                     the middle of her phae gate.