Page 88 of The Stolen Princess
Drake’s lips twitched. “You seem to know a lot about pre-Desolation artifacts. Maybe you could explain what some of the rest of this stuff was for.”
Myka didn’t like his smug expression; it was like he had guessed that she wasn’t as smart as she let on. He raised his eyebrows, and there was a glint in his brown eyes that annoyed her and thrilled her at the same time. Or maybe she was annoyed with his handsome face. That was a major possibility. Short stubble spread across his cheeks and around his mouth, perfectly showcasing his smooth lips. Myka wanted to run the palm of her hand over his face just to feel the rough hair against her skin. Or she could slap that smug look off of his face. That would be an easy and satisfying way to feel the stubble.
“I’d be happy to explain what some of these items are,” she smiled back at him as she slowly walked around the room.
Drake
Bringing Myka tothe bomb shelter he’d found had not been in Drake’s plans, and neither were the feelings that were lingering in his chest. But after last night, something had shifted inside of him. He could pretend that he was trying to gain her trust, but that would be a lie. He cared for Myka. Now all he wanted to do was protect her and make sure she was all right.
Drake leaned against the back of the couch, crossing his arms and his legs. He figured he better settle in for whatever ridiculousness she was about to conjure up. His mind raced back to the first day they had met at Rommel’s house. One of the first things that he had liked about her was how she had pretended to know what Joett’s medicines were for. It was something that Trev would do, a mixture of arrogance and silliness. Drake hadn’t realized how much Myka reminded him of his friend or even how much he’d liked that about her.
“I’ve been wondering what that was,” he said, pointing at one of the small colorful boxes stacked on the table with the wordTroubleon it.
Myka picked it up, examining it for a moment. She opened the box, letting the tiny colorful cups fall onto the table. “Oh, this is easy,” she said. “This was a behavior chart that parents used for their children. Each time their child was in trouble, parents would move the little pieces over to the next slot. If the child got all of their pieces in the middle, then they would get punished. The number thingy told them how many punishments they would get.”
“Really?” Drake raised his eyebrows. He was pretty sure thatTroublewas some sort of game. “Seems like they’re giving their kids a lot of chances to make mistakes before they get punished.”
“Have you ever been with children?” she asked. “They love to push boundaries.”
“I see.”
“Speaking of children, have you seen this bin labeled toys?” She picked up a naked twelve-inch doll with blonde hair that stood up in every direction. “They encouraged their children to play with anatomically incorrect, naked miniature humans.” She held up the doll and shook it in front of him. “That’s messed up. No wonder their civilization got destroyed.”
Drake placed his hand over his lips, hiding his smile as he watched Myka walk around the room.
“Now this was essential,” she said, holding up a yellow football helmet with a big G on both sides. The helmet was signed by someone named Brett Favre.
“Yeah? What was that used for?” he asked, acting like he didn’t already know, but he and Trev had learned all about pre-Desolation football when they were young. There was something exciting about a game where you could tackle someone on purpose and no one got mad.
“They used this as protection,” she said.
“Protection from what?”
“From bullets.” She knocked on the helmet. “This was part of the attire the American army wore.” She gestured to the rest of the football uniform that hung on the wall like a souvenir. “This soldier’s name was,” she tilted her head as she read the back of the jersey, “Fav-ray, and he was in the army for four years.”
Drake did his best to keep a straight face. “Oh, is that what the number four is about?”
“Yep,” she nodded, putting the helmet down. She picked up the mouth guard sitting on the table and brought it to her lips for a demonstration but stopped short of actually putting it in her mouth. That would have been gross. “This protected the soldiers’ teeth. And this,” she picked up a protective cup with her other hand, “was some kind of oxygen mask.”
Drake rolled his lips together, trying to hold in his laugh as she lifted the cup up to her face fitting it over her nose and mouth.
“I think that protected something else,” he said with a smirk.
She bent her brows together and shook her head. “Like what?” Her words were muffled under the cup.
Drake pointed down. “Like little Fav-ray.”
“Ew, gross.” Her eyes went wide, and she pulled the cup away from her face. “Well, that explains the smell.”
Drake couldn’t hold it back any longer. Laughter burst out of him.
She pursed her lips together, pointing at him. “Do not laugh,” she warned.
“Or what?” He raised his eyebrows in a flirtatious way.
“Or I will be forced to hold you down and put it onyourface.”
The pinning him down part sounded kind of nice, but the other part didn’t.
