Page 75 of A Rebel's Shot

He took a step toward her, wincing as pain shot through his side.

“I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t realize how close I was.” Merritt’s gaze darted from the precipice to his face, her brow furrowed with concern. “You okay? You went white as a ghost there for a second.”

He tried to shrug it off, to make light of the pain. The last thing he needed was her worrying about him.

“Just… you made me nervous.” He forced a grin.

Her answering smile was shaky, unconvinced. She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm.The warmth of her touch sent an unexpected jolt through him, and he sucked in a sharp breath, trying to ignore the way his body reacted to her nearness.

“Let me see,” she said softly, her gaze fixed on his side.

“See what?” He tried to back away, but her grip tightened, surprisingly strong.

“Don’t be an idiot, Tiikâan.” Her voice was firm, brooking no argument. “That fall messed you up worse than you’re letting on. Just let me take a look, okay?”

He stared down at her, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. He was used to being the protector, the one in control.

Appearing weak, vulnerable in front of her, well, it went against every instinct he possessed. But there was something in Merritt’s gaze—a combination of unwavering determination and genuine concern—that disarmed him.

With a resigned sigh, he finally relented. “Fine. But it’s probably nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” she muttered under her breath, her fingers grabbing the bottom of his shirts.

He sucked in a breath, his muscles tensing involuntarily as her cool fingers brushed against his heated skin. As she peeled up the layers, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, almost hesitant, yet he couldn’t ignore the way goosebumps spread across his skin with her proximity.

His gaze snagged on the bandage she’d applied earlier, now stained a gruesome red.

“It just broke open again.” He tried to sound nonchalant,praying she didn’t press against his side and disturb the ribs. “It’ll be fine.”

Merritt’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing with anger and worry, stealing his breath. “That’s not ‘fine,’ Tiikâan.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat as she gently probed the wound, her touch sending a fresh wave of pain through him.

“Deep breaths,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “We need to get this cleaned up.”

Peeling off her pack, she dug out the first aid kit and opened an alcohol wipe. He hissed as the cold, stinging fabric hit his wound.

“Sorry.” She cringed and blew on the skin, taking the sting away.

She moved with a quiet efficiency that belied her initial hesitation, her touch becoming more assured as she worked. He tried to ignore the way his body thrummed with pain and focused on her ministrations.

“You’re good at this.” His voice was raspy.

“I got lots of practice in the refugee camps.” Merritt shrugged. “Though this is about the extent of my first aid skills, so don’t go testing my abilities by getting hurt worse.”

He admired her spirit, the way she found humor in even the most dire situation. It was a strength he’d rarely encountered outside of his family before.

“So,” she asked, securing the bandage with a final pat, “what now, oh fearless leader?”

He straightened, drawing in a deep breath and ignoring the way his ribs protested. “We keep moving.”

Merritt nodded, her eyes scanning the horizon. “How far do you think we need to go?”

Tiikâan followed her gaze, trying to gauge distances in the expansive landscape before them. “As far as we can before we get too tired to continue. We want to put as much distance between us and...”

He trailed off, not wanting to vocalize the danger of the bear territory they’d left behind.

“My uncle,” Merritt finished softly, her voice tight.

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