Page 185 of Forcing Fate

I brought my arms up, trying to cover my chest… which was still fully clothed.

He chuckled. “I swear, I will not look. You have my word.”

I nodded, and he pulled out a mirror from his bag. I’d forgotten he shaved with one.

“A mirror? I don’t like playing with fire,” I choked out.

“I rather think you do,” he replied. He didn’t turn to me but put the mirror back. “If I miss a spot, that’s on you.”

“Then I’ll help you shave it,” I retorted, tugging my tunic free from my trousers.

I moved slowly. I trusted him implicitly, but he was just a man, after all. My General, I trusted with my life. Rafe? I wanted to trust him, but was terrified.

I unwound my chest binding and hurried out of my under-breeches as he lathered his cream for shaving. Rushing, I slipped into the water.

Literally.

Flailing, I spluttered, coming up coughing. Pushing my overgrown bangs off my face, I gasped for air.

“Vy–”

“Don’t look!” I shouted, trying to cover myself.

He hadn’t turned, but he sat tall and stiff as if he wanted to. “I’m regretting that promise,” he groaned and continued lathering the cream.

I buried my hot face in my hands and threaded my fingers through my hair. Could I be any more of a fool? This was a terrible idea. Why did I let him talk me into this? Not like he talked me into anything. I’d gone willingly.

Far too willingly.

Lathering the soap, I watched him shave. He was methodical and went by touch. He started with his head and moved to his face. I stared in fascination as he swept the sharp blade against his skin, and wiped it, sweeping it again.

“Why are you worried about your mother?” he asked between strokes.

I startled out of my haze of watching him and worked on my hair. “She doesn’t know I’ve joined the ranks.” I dipped back to rinse my hair and ran my hands over my face.

“You never told her?”

“No. I—I haven’t seen her since the Wild One rejected me.”

He grunted in response, brushing his fingers along his neck for missed spots. I climbed out of the spring and dressed, taking care to be sure I was properly clothed.

I walked over and crouched by his side. “Finished,” I said.

“I see.”

Flecks of white stuck to his skin here and there. The domestication of the whole scene pressed in—he trusted me. He wouldn’t let another soul see him in such a vulnerable state. He was the great General Rafe, stuck with bits of shaving cream on his face.

“Missed a spot.” I smirked.

He held out the razor to me, and I stared at it.

“It’s right there,” I said, pointing at the small spot of stubble and shaving cream on his cheek.

“I believe you said you would help.” He dared, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ll probably cut you.”

“Unintentionally, I’m sure.”

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