Page 21 of When the Wicked Sing
Sighing, he scrubbed his face with his hands and rubbed his aching neck before donning his shirt and armor again.
“What in the silver stars have you done to me?” The venomous question was followed by heavy retching.
Dax glanced over at her, watching her struggle not to get any bile in her long hair. Taking two strides, he lifted the bucketcloser to her face. When she was done, she slumped back onto the bed, breathing hard.
“Don’t ever do that to me again!”
Dax couldn’t help the smirk that lifted his lips, hiding it as he dumped the bucket out the window. “I won’t unless I have to.”
A blaze of fury glowed in her eyes.
He retrieved the waterskin he’d just refilled and a piece of bread, holding them out as offerings to her. When she didn’t take them, he dropped them in her lap. Turning back to his bag, he pulled out a small pair of brown boots he’d procured for her along their journey from a traveling mortal merchant. The whole exchange made Dax want to laugh. The old man had been so terrified, he pissed himself, yet he couldn’t turn down the coin Dax offered.
Glancing over at her, he was surprised to find her taking small, angry bites of the bread. Her wrists were still tied together, but her ankles were free.
He set the boots by the bed, and she gazed at them with pure repulsion.
“Um … what are those?”
“Boots. I suspect they’ll fit you well enough to walk in.”
Her eyes shot up to his. “Walk?”
“Yes,” he said, putting on his hooded cloak. “I am not a horse. I cannot carry you the whole way.”
“I’m not putting those things on.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not,” she argued. Dax felt bad for the bread she crushed in her hand. “I don’t wear shoes. I’m a siren. Don’t you know anything about us?”
“That excuse won’t get you far, Little Tempest, especially as it gets colder the farther north we go. Speaking of …” He tossed a leather coat at her, and she snatched it out of the air with a scowl.
“Don’t call me that,” she growled, her sharp glare meeting his.
Dax tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he stepped closer, towering over her. “Don’t like it, Little Tempest?” He dropped his voice to a low murmur and leaned close to her face. “Then stop kicking up a storm over every damn thing and put on the boots.”
Her head slammed into his face with such force that he stumbled backward. Dax clutched his nose, cursing loudly as Mari shot out of the bed.
Dropping a hand from his throbbing nose, he reached out to grab her, but she slipped through his fingers like water.
Reaching the door, she struggled to open it, not realizing it was locked. Dax smirked as he stepped behind her and forcefully turned her around by her shoulders.
One thing he could count on about Mari was that she was a fighter. And she liked to fight dirty.
Claws reached for his throat, scratching his skin. He grabbed her tied wrists before her nails had the chance to rip out his larynx. She kicked and screamed as he slammed her wrists above her head against the wooden door. It groaned under the weight of their thrashing.
“Calm down!” he shouted and trapped her body with his. She tried biting him, her sharp canines on display, but she was too short to reach anything important.
“Just stop! You’re not going anywhere!”
She hissed at him, tried biting him again, then gave up and let her head fall back against the door, their heaving chests brushing slightly together. Dax couldn’t stop himself from staring down at her. She was wild, stunning chaos. And somehow, he had to tame it.
He took a small step back, creating space between their bodies so he could think clearly, but her eyes threatened to drown all sensible thoughts.
Releasing a sigh, he said softly, “Shit, you’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be your enemy. I just want to get you safely to Aurelia.”
“To do what with me? Hand me over to the king so he can chop off my tail and stick my head on the pike at the palace gates? Make an example out of my kind?” He detected fear beneath her viscous tone.
