Page 28 of Fifth
“Affirmative.” He set a larger branch, then another. “If it does, Iwill stand between you and the fire.”
She blinked. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“Of course you are.” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Why am I arguing with a man who thinks like a machine?”
“Because you are tired.” He squatted by the flames and set the first strip of Skarrin on a sharpened green stick. Fat began to bead and drip. The smell was strong, metallic at first, then turning toward something that didn’t trigger the body’s revolt. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was edible.
He turned the meat with a patient wrist, keeping his focus on the flame. Out of the corner of his vision he marked Hannah, chin on her knees, body leaning ever so slightly toward both fire and food. She fought the compulsion, trying to sit straight as if willpower alone could keep her pride intact. He recognized the ruse and let it play, feigning ignorance while cataloguing every subtle shift. The contest between her stubbornness and her hunger lasted only as long as it took one side of meat tochar.
He held the first strip out. “Eat.”
She sniffed. “It smells like a tire.”
“I do not know this word.”
She took the stick, bit, grimaced, and chewed. “You’re not missing anything.” She swallowed. “It’s not awful.” A second bite. “It’s a bit weird.” A third. “I guess it’s fine.”
He cooked another for himself and ate methodically, eyes on the shimmer of heat above the flames. Grease popped. Embers fell and died. The night shifted from battle to the kind of stillness that let in the pain they’d been ignoring. Hannah’s shoulders sank as food hit her gut. Alittle sound escaped her that might’ve been relief or grief orboth.
“More,” he said. He already had the next strip turning.
She lifted a hand to refuse, then stopped. “Yes. Please.” She ate with purpose now, small bites, steady. When she finished the second, he gave her a third. He didn’t eat again until he was certain she could sleep without waking hungry, then he ate to fully restore himself.
Firelight turned the edges of her inky hair copper. When she licked grease from her thumb with a quick flash of tongue, heat rolled through him low and heavy. He adjusted the branch he was using to prop themeat.
“You don’t say much about yourself,” she said suddenly. “Even when I bait you.”
“I am saying enough.”
She huffed. “That isn’t how conversation works.”
“This works.” He turned the meat. “You speak. Ilisten.”
“That isn’t fair.” Her mouth quirked. “But it’s effective.” She looked down at the stick in her hand, then back up at him. “What happens if we get out of this? You said I’m yours. That’s… a lot.”
“It is only truth. Ihave claimed you for my bride.” He lifted the next cooked strip and let it cool a breath before he offered it. “You will not return to the men who sold you. You will not be traded again. You will not be touched by anyone who thinks your body is a price to be haggled.”
Her fingers closed around the food and tightened. For a heartbeat she didn’t speak. Then quietly, “That sounds like a promise.”
“It is.” He shrugged. “It is also a plan.”
“A plan you already made without me.”
“Affirmative.” He met her gaze. “Because I do not leave your safety to chance.”
She stared at him, eyes shining in the firelight, mouth pressed flat as if she were keeping something wild inside her teeth. After a long silence she said, “What if I don’t want to leave Earth?”
“You will choose when the choice is yours to make.” He set another log. Sparks climbed. “Tonight is not that night.”
She breathed out, ajagged sound that made something in his chest loosen. “Okay.” She nodded. “Tonight is for not dying.”
“Affirmative.” He allowed himself the smallest ghost of a smile. “And for eating.”
She lifted the last bite as if to salute him, then popped it into her mouth. Grease shone on her lips. He wanted to bend and taste it there. He fed the fire instead and let the desire burn down into the coals.
For a time neither spoke. The night held only the crackle of flame and the steady sound of her chewing. Locus let the quiet stretch, studying the manner in which tension had slipped from her shoulders and the way her body leaned unconsciously toward the warmth they had built together. When the last of the meat was gone, he knew they needed more than food—they needed shelter, aplace to claim against thedark.
