Page 11 of The Stolen Princess
He grasped his arm again, and his mouth twisted into a grimace as his fingers skimmed across his injury. He walked to his horse and grabbed some kind of cloth out of his bag, pressing it against the wound to stop the bleeding.
“We’re lucky guns are quieter nowadays, or else the shot might have spooked your horse,” she said.
“Yeah, so lucky.” His words were rich with sarcasm as he adjusted his hold around the cloth. “I’m in actual pain here, so you can quit with the bright-eyed optimism.”
She frowned. “Why are you acting like a baby? I would’ve assumed someone like you to be tougher than this.”
He eyed her. “Someone like me?”
She waved her hand in front of his toned abs. “You know, someone with so many muscles.”
His eyes filled with something new, and for the first time, his expression didn’t look like he wanted to kill her. The corner of his mouth lifted a little bit. “You shot me. Forgive me for reacting to pain.”
“You really need to get over it.” Myka shrugged. “It was mostly your fault, anyway.”
He tilted his head at her. “Mostly my fault?”
“Yes, you underestimated my abilities and needed to be taught a lesson.”
“You don’t shoot someone just because you’re offended.”
She placed her free hand on her hip. “Well, I do.”
A touch of amusement played across his expression. He shook his head, staring back at her in a way that said he wasn’t thinking about his injury anymore. That flirtatious stare in his almond eyes suddenly made her want to hide behind a tree or something.
Myka swallowed and cleared her throat. “Come on.” She grabbed her bag, placing the gun inside, and turned toward the house. “Joett has some stuff we can put on your arm.”
She walked to the door, bending down to retrieve the key hidden under the second stone step.
“How did you know where the key was?” he asked, behind her.
“I come here a lot,” she said. Myka turned the lock and opened the door to the house. The hinges creaked as she stepped in. The front room and kitchen were open, making the small house feel a little bigger than it really was. A beige-colored couch and two ratty chairs filled the space in front of the rock fireplace. A small rectangular table stood in the middle of the kitchen. Two large pots sat on the stove, and Myka could still smell the delicious scents of Joett’s potions.
“Hellooo?” she called out as she shut the door behind them.
“They’re not home,” Drake said flatly.
“I know that, but it’s a rule. You can’t enter someone’s house without at least making an effort to call out to them.”
“And what’s the rule about shooting complete strangers for no reason?”
Myka’s lips curled into a crooked smile. “I had a reason.”
Drake scrunched his nose at her, shaking his head. “Agoodreason.”
The action brought out a youthful side to him, which completely contradicted the entire manly vibe he was projecting. The action also made Myka’s heart trip all over itself in the most fun way, something that she’d rarely ever experienced.
There were a lot of young, good-looking soldiers at Tolsten House. Most of them smiled at her, but they NEVER spoke to her. Myka didn’t understand it. She didn’t feel like she was intimidating, but they all kept their distance. She’d decided that there must be some kind of rule about talking and flirting with the princess, like if a soldier disobeyed, he’d get his tongue cut out. That, or they didn’t think she was pretty or worth flirting with.
Myka looked back at Drake. He was better looking than any guard she’d come across at Tolsten House. He had long, brown eyelashes, and honestly, this was the first time Myka had ever noticed a man’s eyelashes before. Until now, it hadn’t been on her list of“must-haves” in a future partner, but it was quickly gaining momentum.
He lifted his eyebrows at her as if asking,why are you staring at me?
Why was she staring at him?
That was awkward.
She turned to the kitchen, needing a distraction. Otherwise, she might stand there smiling like a twitterpated dork. “I’m sure Joett has some creams we can put on your wound.” Myka began opening cupboards, looking through Joett’s medicines and bandages. The kitchen table jostled behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Drake hoisting himself on top of it. There was something extra attractive about the shirtless stranger sitting on the kitchen table instead of a chair. Like at any moment, he might lay down on his side and prop his head up, accentuating his biceps and solid chest. But then Myka looked at his bloody arm and remembered that she’d shot him, and instantly the fantasy was over.
