Page 17 of Surrendering Her Heart

“No,” he agrees, doing nothing to calm my unease.

“You know what?”

“No?” he asks, genuine curiosity in his voice and on his face when he looks over.

“You suck at this,” I say with a huff, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

He’s silent for a few steps, then shakes his head.

“Should I lie to you?” he asks.

“No.”

“Then I should say the truth? Which I did… but I am not good at this?”

“Right.”

“Maybe I do not understand… what this you refer to?”

I roll my eyes, not that he can see it.

“Forget it.”

“I do not wish to forget, Ava. I do not want to forget anything about you. Ever. I will remember every breath. Every motion. And every word you utter for as long as I live.”

I stumble to a stop, eyes widening.

“Are you… you’re… you’re serious,” I say, studying his face.

“Of course.”

I blink, trying to wrap my head around all of this. Him. This is crazy. It makes no damn sense. He makes no sense.

“Gah,” I throw my hands up in frustration and resume walking.

As I step into the shadow of the mountain, the temperature drops significantly. The air smells of mineral and moisture in stark contrast to the desert. Two Zmaj and a human woman I don’t know are inside the entrance, welcoming everyone and directing us to carry further on.

Zamis stays close behind me, his bulk filling the narrow passage. I can feel the heat radiating from him, a constant reminder of his presence. After my impulsive kiss I've been hyperaware of him, though neither of us has mentioned it.

The rough, natural passage ends and we step into a smooth, well-lit tunnel. Our group stumbles in, wide-eyed and overwhelmed. We’re led through a series of tunnels into a large space with a lot of make-shift, half-built bunks. Tables line the far wall and those catch everyone’s attention the moment we walk in. A mass of bodies rushes forward.

Chaos engulfs the group as everyone tries to grab water and food, guzzling themselves but before anyone can impose order, it happens naturally. People stop the frenzy and help one another.As if the entire group realizes that what they’re doing is insane and that there is plenty to go around.

Zamis rumbles at my side. I look over, but he’s watching the humans. Water is being brought back to those who are too exhausted. The older ones, the kids, and the wounded have been placed on bunks and people are bringing them food and water. At the tables, mugs are being poured and passed back until everyone has at least some.

“Surprised?” I ask.

“Come,” he says, taking ahold of my arm.

He pulls me through the crowd, stopping when someone hands me my own glass of water and a piece of what looks like smoked meat.

“Here,” the man says, turning to go and get more.

I don’t know the man who does it, but Zamis puts his hand on the man’s shoulder and he jumps, looking fearful.

“What?” he asks, his voice quavering.

“Thank you,” Zamis says. “Truly.”

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