Page 42 of Reckless
I want her to fight me.
I want her to burn for me, even if it means with hatred.
I sigh, exhaling the emotions accompanying each dizzying thought, and instead say, “Where’s the fun in that?”
“This is ridiculous.”
Her mumble is muffled, and when I tug on the cloth covering her face, her gruff grumble is equally so.
“No, it’s necessary. You look great.” Try as I might, I can’t keep the laughter from lacing each word. I can practically feel her glare through the scarf I tossed over her entire head, partly to cover her highly recognizable hair and face, though mostly because I was far too lazy to wrap the fabric around her.
“I hate you,” she hisses.
“Yeah, you and everyone else in this kingdom, darling.”
The innkeeper waves a hand, beckoning me to his counter. I give her a little push forward, resulting in a reluctant limp. “Just one room. We’ll take whatever you’ve got,” I say, offering a tight smile hidden behind the bandanna covering the bottom half of my face.
“Yer in luck,” the man huffs. “A room just opened up on the third floor. Little thing.”
As way of answering, I roll a few coins onto the chipped counter, watching as he counts them before giving me a gruff nod. Then his eyes land on the girl being swallowed by a scarf. “What’s wrong with her?”
I feel her shift in anticipation of some smart-ass comment about to spew from the mouth I can’t currently see. “Terrible accident,” I cut in with a sad shake of my head. “You don’t wanna see what’s under there.” I lean in, giving him a knowing look. “She’s a little self-conscious. Rightfully so.”
The innkeeper nods, looking like we’ve just shared a hilarious joke. “Then by all means, keep ’er covered up!”
He laughs. I laugh. I bite my tongue when the heel of her boot meets the toes inside mine.
I know better than to laugh again as she blindly stumbles up the creaky stairs, blood dripping down her leg and threatening to splatter on the wood beneath. The door on the third floor groans when I push it open, revealing a room the size of my closet back at the palace. With the bed taking up nearly the entirety of the space, the washbasin in the corner seems to the be the only other accessory in the crude excuse for a room. A musty window sheds just enough dull light to display the grime decorating the space.
“I’m going tokillyou.” She’s ripped the scarf from her face, huffing at the hair falling around it in a heap.
“Are you, now?” I muse. “You had trouble with that even before you were injured.”
She turns away from me, shaking her head. Her voice is distant, as though the words were intended to remain a thought. “I’m always injured. Always a little broken.” I watch her take in the room, if only because every response that comes to mind seems to be stuck in my throat. “This is it?” she asks, gesturing around. “What, are all your men going to pile into bed with you?”
“Funny,” I say without a hint of humor. “No, my men will stay out in the city tonight. Such a large group draws unwanted attention. Don’t worry though—they’ll meet up with us in the morning when we head out.”
She gives me a look that slightly resembles one of those sly smiles she used to show me. “You really think you can handle me on your own?”
I shrug. “I think I’m the only one who could handle you on their own.”
“Still a cocky bastard, I see.”
“I have a reputation to uphold.”
She snorts, struggling as she limps past me to slump onto the edge of the bed. I eye her bleeding wound and the quilt folded beneath it. “By all means, please bloody the bed I’ll be sleeping in.”
She barely spares me a glance. “And what makes you so sure that you’ll be sleeping in this bed?”
“What makes you think I won’t be?”
Ignoring me, she begins gingerly examining the wound on her thigh, completely content to disregard my existence. The sight of her rolling up the loose pant leg, revealing a tremendous amount of tanned skin, seems suddenly more significant in the shadowy room.
She hisses through her teeth when the fabric tugs at the sticky wound,and I watch her struggle to keep the pain from pinching her features. I run a hand through my hair, sighing out a quiet “Come here.”
“I’m good, thanks,” she says blandly.
“You’re such a pain in my ass, you know that?”
