Page 52 of Reckless
I sigh, looking up at the stars above. “Then I’m as good as dead.”
CHAPTER 20Kai
Her breathing is melodic.
Hypnotizing in a way I hate admitting.
She’s pressed so close, so slumped against my chest that I can feel her rib cage expanding with each breath.
I doubt she’s slept so soundly in days.
Another deep breath. Another jab of her ribs into my stomach.
… or eaten much, for that matter.
By the look and feel of her, she’s likely survived off stale bread the entirety of her stay in Dor, all while fighting daily in the ring.
I should really make her eat more.
I shake my head at the thought, at the reflex that is caring about her. Because she is not my responsibility. She is my prisoner. My mission. My father’s murderer.
A soft, sleepy noise slips past her lips, and I still at the sound. She’s held between my hands, solid against my chest, head on the pounding heart of her captor. I’ve never seen such peace held so gently in the arms of Death.
I glance up at the sky, a blanket of blackness covered in constellations. The men riding beside me are nothing more than shifting shadows, silently treading through the sand. Heads bob around me, fighting against the sleep weighing heavy on their eyelids.
“Stop,” I call hoarsely. “We’ll camp here for the rest of the night.”
I’m met with grunts of gratitude, followed by frantic fumbling and clumsy dismounts. I pull my horse to a halt, hesitating before resting heavy hands atop her thighs. I allow myself one moment. One selfish moment of my miserable existence committed to her. To a girl in the arms of a boy. To a facade.
And then the moment is over, shattering as I shake her awake.
Well, try to.
She grunts, unamused by my attempt to wake her. I try again, grabbing her waist this time to thoroughly jostle her. She protests, as per usual, throwing an elbow into my stomach with surprising strength for someone still half-asleep. I hiss between my teeth before pinning her arms to her sides. “Easy,” I breathe. “Would you rather I have you spend the rest of the night on this horse?”
She sighs, her voice softened with sleep. “If it means I can ride it far away from you, then yes, I would love to.”
“You wound me,” I say dryly, easily swinging from the horse. She’s eying me expectantly, looking down her nose to where I stand beneath. I smile pleasantly in return. “Is there something you need?”
Her nose scrunches, visible representation of the frustration finding its way onto her face. “No. I’m perfectly fine.” And with that, she’s gripping the horn of the saddle and attempting to swing a leg over.
“Is that so?” I’m smiling now. “Nothing you want to ask me?”
“I amnotasking for your help,” she huffs, teetering in the saddle. “Better yet, what is stopping me from turning this horse around and bolting?”
“Ability. Knowledge. Fear,” I state flatly. “Would you like me to keep going?”
“I’d like to knock your teeth in.”
“Oh, but then I wouldn’t be able smile in that way I know you like.”
Scowling, she states, “Smile all you want. I don’t like anything about you.”
My rebuttal is quiet, ragged, as though it’s been ripped from the depths of my mind. “I recall you liking the one that was meant only for you.”
She stiffens at my words but doesn’t deem them worth a response. Ignoring me, she instead turns her attention back to the task at hand. For someone so typically coordinated, watching her attempt to dismount a horse is comical. She all but throws herself from the animal, eager to finally be on solid ground.
“Where am I sleeping?” she asks, eying the many bedrolls now littering the sand.
