Page 2 of Refuge (The Wanderers 2)

She took a deep breath. “I know.” She untangled her hands and reached out to grab his, the one resting on his shin.

He let her. In fact, he flipped his hand over and let her thread their fingers together.

She stared down at their connection, her skin so pale, his skin so dark. For some reason, she found it attractive. She liked how they looked next to each other. Opposites. If they had a baby together, would it be a gorgeous shade of brown somewhere in between its parents?

She flinched at the thought. Good grief.

Kester stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. It felt nice. Until this moment, they hadn’t really touched other than arms bumping into each other as they walked or fingers grazing as they passed something back and forth.

She glanced around again, trying to think of things to say. “Which room is yours?”

“The one behind me.”

Darn. That question did not start a conversation. It wasn’t as if she would follow up with, “Can I see it?”

“How long have you lived here?” she asked, trying another route.

“Two years. Stuart found me living on the streets in the city. We ran into each other several times before he invited me to come back here with him.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Do you have any family?” She was almost conversational and gave herself a mental pat on the back.

“I have no idea. Depends on who kidnapped my mother from our home ten years ago, where they took her, and how many times she’s been forced to reproduce since then.” He winced and squeezed her hand. “Jesus, I’m sorry. That was far too blunt.”

She lifted his hand to her face and rubbed her cheek against his fingers. “I’m so sorry. You were only fifteen?”

He nodded. “Let’s talk about something more uplifting. How are you enjoying working at the clothing exchange?”

She smiled. “I like it. My sister, Layla, says if I’d lived in a different time, I would have been a fashion designer.” She laughed. “As if that’s needed in this completely dystopian society.”

“Hey, people still enjoy pretty things, even in hard times.” He lifted a brow. “I do.”

She flushed when she realized he was talking about her.

He untangled their fingers and cupped her cheek. “I love how your face flushes when you’re embarrassed or nervous.”

She groaned. “I’m usually both. It’s not hard.”

“It’s cute.”

She rolled her eyes. “I hate that everyone thinks I’m cute. I’m kind of tired of being treated like I’m too young to know my mind or make my own decisions.”

Feeling bold, she licked her lips and sat up straighter. “I know I don’t have experience with men, but I’m not stupid. I’m more educated than almost anyone I’ve met. My parents both had a Ph.D. They made Layla and me sit down every day for homeschooling. I’m trained in self-defense and I have survival skills that rival most humans. I’m a grown woman.”

Kester held her gaze. “No one is suggesting you’re not, Ariel.”

She rolled her eyes, groaning. “Of course they are. You’re treating me with kid gloves, and Stuart growls at every man who comes near me as if I were twelve and he needs to ward them off. It’s maddening. I’m surprised you’ve been willing to talk to me or eat with me. And I’m doubly surprised you brought me back to your apartment.”

Kester scooted closer and gripped her hand in her lap this time. “First of all, I spend time with you because I like you. You’re fun and fucking smart and sharp and gorgeous. When you laugh, the tinkling sound lights up a room.”

“Kes…”

He moaned and then spoke in a lower voice. “I really like when you call me Kes.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”

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