Page 91 of Seven Oars
Phex was back, sitting against the wall.
Joy surged through her. They must’ve let him go in favor of some other debased entertainment.
From her spot on the mat, Rosamma let herself look, for just a moment.
It was too dark to see him clearly, so she traced the shape of him with her eyes. That proud tilt of his head, turned sideways to her—she’d know him anywhere.
He’d finally put his hair up, probably tired of it always falling into his eyes. With her gaze, she followed the outline of his long, strong neck sloping gracefully into wide, powerful shoulders.
Unbreakable.
At ease, he let his massive forearms rest on his bent knees. A man’s pose, alluring and a little indolent. So natural and attractive.
He was so still.
“Phex,” she called quietly, trying to make herself heard over theoar.“Are you awake?”
He gave a short nod, aloof.He must be hurting from the fight.
She rose and made her way to him, circling Gro and Eze’s sleeping bodies.
“How badly are you hurt?”
“I’m not hurt.” His voice was so low she could barely hear him.
She edged closer, straining her eyes to see his injuries.
“Let me touch you. I can spare some energy.”A lie. She had precious little left, but all of it was his if he needed it.“It breaks my heart to see you hurt,” she whispered.
He heard her.
“Does it?”
He turned to her slowly, revealing the burn scars, the trisected brow, the hooded eyes…
Her heart crystallized in her chest.
She stared, unable to comprehend the shattering illusion.
How? How could she have made an error this monumental? To confuse, even in the semi-darkness, a proud defender with this animal?
“Finn…” She meant to say Fincros, but his name broke in her throat, and only the first part emerged—a hopelessly misplaced endearment.
“Are you confused, weak one?” He kept his voice soft, but that only made it more threatening.
She jerked.
“No, Striker. You’re Fincros.”
He cocked his head, giving her a better view of his ruined right cheekbone, now caught in the Cargo Hold’s stupid, treacherous, flickering light.
A cruel smile played on his mouth.“Are you sure?”
His voice, when it was this beguiling, frightened Rosamma more than his hoarsely shouted orders.
She could barely force the words out of her constricted windpipe.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
