Page 89 of Falling Princess
All this training served to pass the time. On the third day, according to my phone, I wondered out loud when Lorcan would be back.
Cata and Raina exchanged worried glances, which was hardly reassuring. I refused to entertain the idea that he was gone. I’m holding that man to his promise. He had damn well better be alive and on his way back to me. I know how to kick his ass now, if he doesn’t.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
We were in pajamas and watching a movie on DVD, as the only internet access was through Cata’s secure laptop, when the safe house door scratched open. It was four-thirty in the afternoon. It could have been midnight or midmorning. Time had become meaningless.
Cata immediately sat up, pistol in hand. When Lorcan stumbled in, looking absolutely wrecked, she set it down and rushed over to him.
My stomach dropped. My heart fluttered. It’s a confusing mix.
“Did anyone see you?”
Lorcan gave her acome onlook, which was all I needed to know he was okay. Physically, anyway. I don’t know how he deals with the psychological toll we inflict on him. It’s cracking Cata, and I didn’t think that was possible.
I wonder what he would have been if his father hadn’t been the captain of my mother’s guard that fateful day.
Right at that moment, though, I was so happy he was back that I forgot to shield my emotions. I forgot that Raina is just as attached to him, and has been, for far longer. His eyes met mine. I ducked my chin because it’s too much, this feeling. It’s relief and joy and a fierce protectiveness he doesn’t need.
I helped Cata cook dinner while Lorcan showered. It’s not much. There’s nothing fresh. Everything here is boxed and preserved. Takeout is not an option, so we made pasta with jar sauce and canned vegetables. He ate as though he hadn’t in three days, which is entirely possible.
I hardly touched my food. I’d rather eat roasted mouse deer over a campfire.
“We can go home tomorrow. I want to let my trail go cold overnight, but we should be clear by morning.” There was a white bandage on his left hand, with a red spot where a wound hadn’t closed properly yet.
“Where did you go?” Raina asked, eyeing his injury.
“South.”
Raina made a face. I tried not to smile. Cata laughed. “You know he won’t tell you.”
“I’ll find out from my dad anyway.” Raina raised one eyebrow. “Can’t hide things from me. Nor should you. I’m an asset.”
“You’re a student, and you should be in class,” Cata admonished with a smile, which faltered when Lorcan said, “Your hit-and-run made the news.”
“Yeah, well, he deserved it,” she replied, unrepentant.
“Messy.”
“Using the gun would’ve drawn more attention. Couldn’t stage it as a knife attack, not with the princesses exposed.”
Lorcan grimaced. His gaze cut to me briefly. Butterflies in my stomach. I’m ridiculous. The fact that he is willing to kill on my behalf, that he did it even when I hated him—I love it. I can’t describe how safe that makes me feel. As though I could go anywhere, as long as it’s with him. Not that I would deliberately put him in danger.
“You got rid of the car, right?”
Cata rolled her eyes. “Please. I taught you this business, you little shit.”
They both laugh. I don’t know how anyone laughs in this strange world, but they do.
It’s still early, but Lorcan was wiped out and our movie wasn’t over. Raina and Cata resumed their places on the pull-out couch. I took my spot at one end of the other, curling into as little space as possible while Lorcan lounged sideways on most of it. He shifted onto his side, tucked the ancient throw pillow under his head, and was asleep within minutes. I draped the blanket over both of us, taking a tiny corner. He was too dead to the world to notice.
It’s sweet the way he drops completely into sleep once he knows he’s safe.
I’m totally projecting. He probably always falls asleep this fast. Deep and dreamless. Again, I was reminded of how little I knew about him.
The movie played. I paid no attention. The actress was Sandra Bullock and there’s a plot about an engagement which I’m not following. Lorcan’s feet nudged my shin as though he wanted to stretch out, but couldn’t. Under the blanket, I pulled one into my lap and stroked his ankle, the tips of my fingers gliding over crisp hair. I could hardly breathe with the tension of it. I’ve never touched anyone this way before. It felt so intimate.
It’s a freaking ankle.
