Page 75 of The Stolen Princess
Drake paused, lacing his shoes, and looked at her. “Because I don’t trust you. Since we’ve met, you’ve managed to shoot me, split my eye open, knee me in the groin several times, and stab me in the shoulder.”
She raised her eyebrows. “An impressive resume.”
Myka thought there was a hint of respect written across his face. Or maybe she imagined it. Sheprobablyimagined it.
She swung her legs over the side of the cot so that she sat next to him. “Where will you be?” she asked, hoping to get a little more information.
“It doesn’t concern you.” He stood, pulling the hem of his black pants down so that they covered his black shoes.
“You have another woman out there, don’t you?” He gave her a pointed look, but she ignored it, continuing on. “Because as I told you before, when people sneak out they can only going one place…to theirlover’shouse.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, I have a lover out in the woods in the most remote part of Tolsten. You caught me,” he said dryly.
She shrugged as she bounced up from the cot, twisting her hair around and around, and then knotted it into a bun on top of her head. It wouldn’t stay without a tie. In fact, she’d be surprised if it lasted an hour. She bent down to put on her shoes, and when she came up, Drake was tyingherpink hair tie around his arm.
“What are you doing?” she snapped at him.
“Tyingmyscarf on my arm.”
Drake clearly had some weird obsession with hair ribbons.
“What is it with you and that stupid hair tie? I’m the one who actually needs it.”
His lips turned downward. “Your hair looks fine.”
Myka’s eyes narrowed as her hands went to her hair, dramatically rubbing the top of the bun so that half of the strands fell out in a disorganized way.
She lifted her chin. “See. I need it.”
Drake scrunched his nose at her crazy hair. “You’re only hurting yourself with behavior like that.” He opened the door, holding it open for her. “Ready to go to breakfast?”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not sure what else I would do with myself. The clothes I wore here are dirty. I don’t have a brush, a mirror, or even something to tie my hair with.”
He stared blankly back at her.
“What?” She blinked. “Does my hair bother you?”
He shook his head, knocking himself out of whatever weird trance he was in. He cleared his throat. “No. Let’s go.”
Myka followed Drake into the crisp morning air. The smell of eggs from the hidden chickens floated through the camp. Dawsick, Winslow, and Grady sat on logs talking and eating. Their eyes moved to her and her crazy hair.
Drake
Two hours later, Drake walked back into camp. His thoughts were lost in pre-Desolation and what he’d found the other day deep in the woods. He’d gone today to explore more. He wasn’t ready to show any of the other men the pre-Desolation shelter he’d found. Maybe he never would show them.
He opened the door to the shack, and immediately Myka’s eyes darted to the handful of stuff in his arms.
“What’s that?” she asked.
Drake shook his head. “It’s no big deal. Just some things I thought you might like.” He’d wanted to give her a few things to make her stay more comfortable, but now that he’d done just that, he started to regret it. He was trying to be thoughtful, but now it felt a littletoothoughtful. He set the pile on the cot in front of her and stepped back, scratching his face. An uncomfortable feeling pressed against his chest as he watched her pick up each item.
“A brush? A mirror? New clothes?” She turned to him with a wide smile, the kind of smile that every man hopes to receive from a girl someday, but not him...he didn’t hope for that. She picked up the bottle of shampoo and smelled it, then sighed. “Shampoo! Where did you get this?”
He shrugged. “I actually brought that from Albion, but I hadn’t thought to pull it out yet.”
She nodded, then held up the clothes—a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Her sapphire eyes turned to him, full of questions. “These are pre-Desolation clothes. Did you bring these from Albion too?”
Drake scratched his head. Anybody watching him and all this scratching would think he had fleas. “Um...yes, and no...I mean,” he cleared his throat, not sure why all of a sudden he was so tongue-tied. “Yes, they are pre-Desolation clothes, but they didn’t come from Albion.”
