Page 64 of Conflicted Fate
“I don’t know!” I snarled, walking away from him and the army, treading down the other side of the hill.
I closed my eyes, looking into my mind.
Fate. If you’re there, I need to hear from you. I need to know we can count on your support. Please.
Ringing silence was my only answer. Angry at my inability to do theonething our entire plan was asking me to do, I kicked at a rock, lashing out with my fury. The rock didn’t move, proving to be attached to something deeper underground, and my foot smashed into the unmoving object.
“Ow!” I yelped, fighting the urge to fall to my knees in frustration.
Behind me, I heard Kiel begin speaking, his voice loud and clear, a clarion call to the army below.
Inhaling a deep breath, I crouched, pressing my palms to the ground, letting my anger flow into the ground as best as I could.
Relaxing my shoulders, I turned and started walking up the hill with big, long strides toward where Kiel spoke. Whatever happened, he and I would face it.
Together.
Chapter Thirty-Two
That night, the last we would spend before starting our march, we sat on opposite sides of our little campfire. Out there in the sprawling farmscapes of eastern Teagan, there was little worry about making fires. After all, if the thousands and thousands of shifters gathered hadn’t attracted attention, what were a few hundred or thousand fires going to accomplish?
I stared into the flames. Every so often, my eyes flicked up to Kiel. I knew he was doing the same. He knew I was doing it. I knew that he knew … and so on. Yet neither of us was ready to speak up. I had stood at his side while he spoke to the army. He gave them a loud, morale-boosting speech about standing up for the little guy, being willing to take a stand, and say “no more.” He talked about the legends that would spread about this day and more. Not once had I interjected. I’d merely pumped my fist in support.
But in private, there was a wall between us. One neither was ready to break down. Not without knowledge that the other wanted it gone. And since we weren’t really talking … nobody was saying a thing. So, instead, we stared into the flames in utter silence.
“It’s the last night before we leave.”
Kiel’s voice broke the silence so unexpectedly that I jerked in surprise, nearly losing my balance.
“Yes,” I said awkwardly, the stiffness of our interaction making me sound wooden and emotionless. “It is.”
“Most people would probably be, you know …”
I looked up from the fire as he trailed off. His gaze had shifted from the fire to me, but now, he looked away. Biting back a grin, I just stared at him, enjoying the awkward squirm for what it was: an attempt.
“They would bewhat?” I pressed gently, wanting to hear him say it. He needed the practice. I wasn’t trying to be mean about it.
“You know …” He sighed. “Together.”
“Ah.” I nodded slowly. “We haven’t exactly said much to each other the past few hours. I’m not really feeling that sort of way.”
It was the truth. I wanted to jump into his arms—or onto his cock. There was no denying that I felt that certain pull. We didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and the urgency made me want to be with him. But not until we talked.
Kiel made a face. He knew what I meant. Getting up, he came around to my side of the fire.
“May I sit down?” he asked politely.
“Yes, of course.” I smiled at his request, appreciative that he’d asked, regardless of how unnecessary.
He took the spot directly next to me, my left leg pressed into his right.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “About being pushy. I didn’t mean to put that on you.”
“I know,” I said. “I may have, ahem, slightly overreacted.”
A twitch ran through his body, but, showing more restraint than many men I knew, Kiel didn’t say a word about my admitted understatement.
Without asking, he draped an arm around me, and I snuggled into him. I loved how good he made me feel, how protective and safe that simple action was.
