Page 89 of The Commander

He couldn’t decide what he wanted more: to give her time to run so he could hunt her again or tie her to the bed and make her admit her desire for him over and over. Both would have to wait, but as soon as it was safe, he would take his chance to get another taste.

The old highway stretched before them like the cracked spine of a giant snake, its concrete vertebrae broken and shifted by decades of neglect. They drove until he found an outcropping of buildings that looked like it might provide cover.

He pulled off the highway, the tires crunching over gravel, and turned off the engine, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the engine’s constant sibilant hum. When Kitten started to open her door, he stopped her.

“You stay there. I’ll get what I need and then we will be on our way.”

“There might be a road sign at that crossroads, a marker to tell us where we are.” She pointed to where the road bisected.

“I’ll check after.”

“Can’t you give me some of that stuff that made Mackie so high? It feels like something is out of place.”

“The regenator will keep you awake for hours. I’d rather you rested, healed as naturally as you can.” Although he knew healing stimulant worked well on human physiology, it had side effects they should avoid if they could.

“Stay here,” Bastian growled as he climbed out of the truck, senses primed for the slightest threat. The air held nothing but the rhythmic click of insects in the distance, no sign of Eld or red hats. He retrieved the supplies from the truck bed, sweeping the area with his gaze once more before heading back to her side.

“What are you going to do?” Cara shifted as if about to step out.

“Don’t move.” He adjusted her seat to face him, her startled expression almost amusing as the mechanism jerked beneath her. He knelt to bring himself level, positioning her arm carefully for what came next.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” The heat radiating from her skin concerned him. Her fever had climbed slightly since they’d started driving—not critical, but nothing he would ignore.

The blood on her arm, dried to a stiff brown crust, clung to scratches inflicted by those red hat bastards. His jaw clenched, fury simmering at the thought. The wounds didn’t seem deep, but the angry red swelling around them suggested infection. The ointment would clear it up, but the stuff wasn’t doing her any good in its tube.

He had left the driver’s side door open in case they needed to bolt, expecting the truck’s shielding to protect her inside while he handled the chaos outside. He’d miscalculated. The grunts went for her. And now his mate suffered because he’d underestimated them.

“You’re going to hurt me,” she warned, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, definitely.” His smile barely hinted at humor.

“I’ve heard resetting a joint feels like someone’s ripping your arm off.”

“You’ll hate it.” His fingers tightened around her elbow, holding her steady.

“Is it worse than that scary chin thing you do?”

“Much worse. That is natural. This is not. I made an error. My arrogance cost you. I thought you would be safe inside the truck. Red Hats are stupid—a drugged blood frenzy does them no favors. They go for what is easy and accessible. Everything right in front of their faces is the first to die. I assumed there would be time for me to get inside the truck before they sought you.”

“It all happened very fast,” she agreed.

“I am faster. This is my fault. I apologize for these injuries. For this pain I’m going to cause you.”

Her full lips lifted at the corner as her eyes played over his face. “Did I hear correctly?”

If he’d had eyebrows, he would have raised them in question.

“The great Commander Bastian admitting a mistake?” Her sarcastic edge sliced at

him, a direct hit.

They were perfect for each other. He wanted to do that nose booping again, just to see her eyes cross. “Yes. That is what that was. And as proof of your acceptance of my apology, you’re going to allow me to cause you more pain. Are you ready, Kitten?”

“Monster,” she whispered.

“Exactly.”

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