Page 14 of Rook
Or softer lips.
His body remembered too much. Her warmth, the taste of her, the way she’d melted against his mouth in that ruined cabin.
A mistake.
He’d told himself that a hundred times as morning crept through the grimy window. He was not there to take a mate, not there to court a human woman who looked at him like she wanted to discover the man beneath his battered armor and fire. He remembered his duty. He would not falter again.
Then she laughed, a joke tossed over her shoulder about a terrifying Yelp review, whatever that was, and Rook’s focus shattered. He nearly tripped on a half-buried root, his boot catching just in time. He dug his heel into the pine needle duff as a sharp throb of warning shot through his bad arm.
Sasha’s head jerked back, her ponytail swinging. She pinned him with an odd look. Not alarm. Not amusement. It was part curiosity, part worry, a complicated flicker in her pale green eyes.
“You all right there?”
“I am fine.” The words came out short, fussy even to his own ears. He was annoyed with himself for being so easily caught off guard.
He couldn’t risk losing his edge. There was no sign of the fugitives. He and Sasha had given his campsite a wide berth, but he could feel the minutes ticking by, the opportunity for justice narrowing with every step that took him farther from the hunt.
His mission hadn’t changed. Track them down. Capture them for Vemion if he could. Incinerate them if he had to. But Sasha had to be clear of it. Safe. The tangled urge to shield her from harm had dug itself deep inside his chest and refused to let go. He’d already asked too much of her.
They fell into a companionable quiet, the hush of the forest broken only by the crunch of their boots and the occasional cry of a bird high in the pines.
After a while, Sasha paused, tilting her head as if listening to something only she could hear. She motioned for him to stop and pointed through the dense trees. Rook followed her gaze, confused, but then full of wonder. Two young deer picked their way through the ferns, their mother keeping watch just behind. The animals were elegant, so fragile looking he feared a single breath might spook them. Sasha didn’t move, just smiled, her face open and almost childlike in the dappled light.
The deer vanished in a blink, melting into the green and gold. But the moment stuck with him. No dragon fire, not even the grandeur of the royal gardens back home, felt quite like that.
The wildness, the peace. He looked at Sasha, puzzling over what kept her tied to a world so simple and vulnerable, yet so fiercely alive. The woods asked nothing of him but demanded everything. They were unforgiving, yet they gave her solace. He saw it in the easy set of her shoulders, the relaxed smile that lingered on her lips.
He didn't ask what it meant to her.
The day grew brighter, the world shifting from sleepy indigo to sharp, awakening green. Another hour passed. One foot, then the next. The woods started to look familiar, even to his eyes. The trees parted in ways he recognized, the undergrowth pressed flat by boot prints, new and old.
“Where are we?” he finally asked.
“Almost back to camp,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “More importantly, almost back to the parking lot where my van is.”
Her voice was light, but her hand toyed with the strap of her backpack, twisting it, letting it fall.
“You’re leaving?” The question escaped before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone flat, disinterested. That was the plan. He needed her safe. So why did the words feel like a betrayal?
She stopped walking and scuffed her boot in the duff. “I’m not fit to handle fire-breathing dragons from outer space.” She gave him a crooked, strained smile. “There are maps in the supply tent that will help. Unless you want me to stick around and be your guide …” She trailed off, the invitation hanging in the air between them. He saw hope in her eyes, but it was tangled with worry, maybe even fear.
He didn’t know what to say. The words were stuck in his throat.
They stood in an awkward silence, both pretending to study the fallen needles at their feet. Their eyes met for a second, then darted away. He refused to ask her to stay. She was right. It was too dangerous, and he couldn’t let her get hurt. The need to keep her safe had become a chasm inside him, an absolute truth that defied all logic.
Finally, he forced out the words he owed her. “Thank you.” They felt as heavy as stones. “I may not have survived last night without you.”
Sasha’s smile was tired but real. “I’d ask you to leave a good review, but this isn’t the kind of thing that anyone would believe.”
The trees thinned ahead, revealing sparser brush. Sasha pointed. “The parking lot is right through there.” She hesitated, her hand hovering near her hip as if she wanted to reach out but couldn’t. “It’s just … never mind.”
“What?” The question sounded raw, more demanding than he intended.
She fiddled with the sleeve of her flannel, gathering her courage. Her cheeks flushed a faint pink against the green of the woods. “Can I see you do the fire thing? One last time?” The words came out in a rush, as if she was afraid they’d get stuck. “I mean, I know it’s probably nothing to you, but …” She shrugged, looking anywhere but at him.
He couldn’t have said no if his life depended on it.
“Of course,” he answered, his voice quiet but certain.
