Laurel shook her head and turned to David. “One class together is not enough,” she said in a mock-stern voice. “Whose idea was this, anyway?”

“Not mine, that’s for sure,” David said. They went into the classroom and claimed a couple of desks near the back.

After everything else that had happened that day, Laurel shouldn’t have been surprised to see Tamani walk into her and David’s Speech class. When Tamani entered, David tensed, but he relaxed when Laurel’s erstwhile guardian chose a desk at the front of the room, several rows away.

It was going to be a long semester.

Chapter Two

SIGHING HEAVILY, LAUREL DROPPED HER BACKPACK on the kitchen counter. She paused in front of the refrigerator to stare at its contents, then scolded herself for her obvious delay tactics. Still, she grabbed a nectarine before closing the fridge door, if for no other reason than to justify her browsing.

She walked over to the back door and stared, as she often did, at the trees behind her house, searching for signs of the faeries who now resided there full-time. Sometimes she spoke with them. She even occasionally supplied them with defensive potions and powders. She didn’t know if the sentries got any use out of them, but at least they didn’t turn them down. It was gratifying to feel like she was helping, especially since having to guard her house had disrupted all of their lives.

But with the total absence of troll activity since last year it hardly seemed necessary anymore. Part of her wanted to suggest they go home, even though she knew better. Jamison had warned her that trolls preferred to strike when their prey was at its most vulnerable, and her experience had proven the truth of his words. Like it or not, it was probably safest if the sentries stayed, at least for now.

Laurel pulled open the back door and set off toward the trees. She wasn’t sure where exactly she was supposed to meet him, but she had no doubt Tamani would find her, as usual. She stopped short when she rounded a scrub oak to discover him removing one shoe with a swift, violent kick. His back was to her and he had already pulled his shirt off; Laurel couldn’t help but stare. The sun filtered through the canopy of leaves to illuminate the warm brown skin of his back—darker than David’s—as he bent and pulled at a stubborn shoelace. With a quiet mutter he finally got it undone and kicked it into the trunk of a nearby cypress tree.

As if freed from shackles instead of clothing, Tamani’s shoulders relaxed and he sighed noisily. Even though he was a bit short by human standards, his arms were lean and long. He stretched, flinging them out wide, his broad shoulders forming the top of a slender triangle that narrowed to his waist, where his jeans hung loosely at his hips. The angles of his back caught the sunlight and for a moment Laurel fancied that she could see him soaking in those nourishing rays. She knew she should say something—announce her presence—but she hesitated.

When he placed his hands on the hips she was eyeing and lifted his face to the sky, Laurel realized she’d better make some noise before he took something else off. She cleared her throat quietly.

The sun tossed golden light through Tamani’s hair as he spun, visibly tense. “It’s you,” he said, sounding relieved. Then a strange look took over. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” Laurel said quickly.

“A minute?” Tamani pressed. “Two?”

“Um, about one, I guess.”

Tamani shook his head. “And I didn’t hear a thing. Damn human clothes.” He dropped onto a fallen log and pulled off a sock. “They’re not just uncomfortable, they’re noisy! And what is with that school? It’s so dark.”

Laurel stifled a grin. She’d told her mother the same thing after her first day at Del Norte. “You’ll get used to it,” she said, handing him the nectarine. “Eat this. It’ll make you feel better.”

He took the fruit from her, his fingers brushing hers. “Thanks,” he said softly. He hesitated, then faced forward and took a bite. “I trained for this. I did! But they never made me stay indoors for this long at once. I was focused on learning the culture and didn’t even think about the consequences of being inside so much.”

“It helps if you get a seat under the windows,” Laurel suggested. “I learned that the hard way.”

“And who the hell came up with jeans?” Tamani continued darkly. “Heavy, sweltering fabric? You’re seriously telling me the race that invented the internet couldn’t create a fabric better than denim? Please!”

“You said ‘internet,’” Laurel said with a snort. “That is so weird.”

Tamani just laughed and took another bite of the nectarine. “You were right,” he said appreciatively, holding up the fruit. “This helps a lot.”

Laurel stepped over and sat down next to him on the fallen log. They were almost close enough to touch, but the air between them might as well have been a granite wall. “Tamani?”

He turned to face her, but said nothing.

Not sure whether it was a mistake, Laurel smiled and leaned forward, circling her arms around his neck. “Hello,” she said, her lips near his ear.

He wrapped his arms around her, returning her greeting. She started to pull back, but he held on tighter, his hands begging her to stay. She didn’t fight it—realized she didn’t want to. After a few more seconds, he released her, but it was with obvious reluctance. “Hi,” he said quietly.