Page 54 of Ensnared
“Morning!” Skye shuffles into the main room of the Lodge, sleep-rumpled and wearing a sling. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”
Jack and Ty launch into motion. Jack pulls out a chair for her while Ty fills a plate with food. She accepts a kiss from each of them, and their movements are so familiar, so sincere, I immediately feel like the third, er, fourth wheel.
“We wanted to let you sleep,” Ty explains as he fills a large mug with coffee and pours in a disgusting amount of creamer. “Here, you need the calories after last night.”
Skye eyes the spread in front of her and bites her lip. “Actually, it might be better if I wait until after the visit to the doc. This feels pretty funky,” she says and indicates her injured arm. “So they might need to put me under or whatever. It’ll go faster if my stomach is empty.”
Jack curses and asks her about her pain levels, and Ty disappears into the kitchen, then returns with a bag of frozen peas for her injury.
I’ve been waiting for her to glance at me. When she does, my gut clenches. There are questions in her eyes that I can’t answer, not with Jack and Ty present, but I also can’t look away. She’s captivated me. The moment stretches in silence, until she blinks and averts her gaze.
Whatever I wanted to say or do, I missed my chance now. Which is why it’s even more crucial that I’m the one to take her to Anchorage today. I might get a chance to explain that kiss and that I can’t stop thinking about her. If I could manage to do that without making a fool of myself, that’d be great.
After a long night’s sleep and this breakfast, I’m back to a hundred percent. I may be going crazy when Skye’s around but I’m no longer weakened from our magic experiment in the woods.
“How soon can you be ready to leave?” I ask, still staring at her.
She glances up at me again, surprised. “You’re taking me? I thought Jack…”
I shake my head. “We’re also visiting the computer shop. Do you have a list of what you’ll need to get started on the work plan?”
Jack glowers at me, and I get it. It seems callous to be using the trip to the ER for the clan’s purposes as well, but we’re already flying to Anchorage. If we can, we should bring the equipment to Amber Bay before winter hits. Otherwise, Skye won’t have much to work with over the dark, cold months.
She chews on her lip. “I’ll have to go back to the cabin for a sec, and I’ll need someone to help me. I won’t be able to type very fast for a couple of weeks.”
“Of course not,” Ty says and shoots me a nasty glare. “You’ll have to rest until you’re better.”
And yeah, I probably look like a complete bastard now. Selfish and unfeeling. I want nothing more than to make sure Skye is okay, especially since it was my fault she broke her arm in the first place. But I can’t indulge in those feelings. First and foremost, my priority is keeping this clan safe. Jack and Ty may have temporarily forgotten that, but it’s okay. I can handle their disapproval.
We’re up and flying over the forest in under thirty minutes. It’s beautiful, an expanse of deep green dotted with a hundred small lakes, the mountains rising in the distance. The first time I went up in the air with my father in the bush plane the village owned before this one, I was four years old and whooping with delight. It was a different time for sea dragons, where the internet wasn’t as widespread as it is now, and the danger of us being discovered was so much lower.
Now we’re constantly battling the risk of being exposed through an accident—a fishing vessel could steer too close to our cove or a wildlife photographer with a drone could take photos of a different kind of beast than they bargained on.
Or the gods damned leader of the clan could invite a witch into the village, bringing down all kinds of trouble he never bargained for.
Skye’s pale face reminds me that I need to be careful with her injury, but there’s not much I can do to stop the plane shuddering as a gust of cool air hits us. She’s cradling her arm to her chest, her lips pressed firmly together. She doesn’t complain, though. I don’t think it’s in her nature.
“I’m sorry,” I say into the headset.
I keep my gaze locked on the sky in front of us, but in my peripheral vision, I see she turns her head my way.
“What for?” she asks, her voice crackling through my headphones.
The cabin of our bush plane suddenly seems too small for the two of us. “For not stopping you like I promised. For falling on you so you broke your wrist. And for kissing you.”
Skye doesn’t reply, she only stares out the window on her side of the plane. For a moment, I think she might not have heard me, so I chance a look at her. Oh, she heard me, all right. Her eyebrows are drawn down, her cheeks red.
“I hope this doesn’t change anything,” I flounder. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I understand if you’d rather work with someone else from now on. Maybe I can ask Jack to act as an intermediary…”
The last thing I want is to bethatsort of boss. Preying on his employee. It’s bad enough that I haven’t gotten her a phone yet, and she has no way of leaving the village on her own. There’s an HR nightmare for you. I snort under my breath. Our situation is a little different from your normal workplace dynamic. I have a clan to protect and a secret to keep from the rest of the world.
She finally faces me, her eyes flashing. “If you think I don’t want to be in your company, you’re wrong. I just resent that you keep running away.” Then she plucks her headphones from her head and sets them down between us.
Message received.
I’m left to chew over her reply on our descent into Anchorage. The landing is smooth, thank the gods. Skye still whimpers quietly as I hand her down from the plane, and I have to stomp on the urge to pick her up and carry her to the waiting car. I do insist on taking her backpack with her laptop, and it’s a sign of her distress that she lets me.
Our first stop, therefore, is the ER nearest to the airfield. Since Skye’s case is not life-threatening, we have to wait for nearly an hour to see the doctor. Two ambulances with flashing lights arrive in that time, bringing in patients with injuries far worse than hers. She shrinks back in her chair with each stretcher that rolls past, and I finally put my arm around her shoulders to comfort her, unable to stand her discomfort any longer. Afraid she might dislike it, I keep my touch light.
