Page 30 of Run Like the Devil

There was too much at stake for that.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

And that was how we started the world’s weirdest campout.

Chapter Eight

I groaned as I stretched my feet out, trying to ease the painful cramping in my calves. Thank fuck the rest of the way appeared mostly flat. I’d gotten more than my share of climbing at this point.

“Hurting?” Hale asked.

“As it turns out, I should have spent more time on the stair climber at the gym.” I laughed off his worry as I continued to stretch out the sore muscles.

Hale sat on the Path just beside my sleeping bag. He patted his lap. “Bring ’em here.”

“Do what now?” I lifted an eyebrow at his request. Not only was I so not ready for anything that Hale might want, but Yazmor and Tyrus sat up the way just a bit, arguing about…

Well, I had no idea. I’d found it was better not to ask such things, especially because they could find something to fight about no matter what.

“I ain’t making a move on you, but we’ve got what might be a long fucking trip ahead of us. Your muscles’ll feel a hell of a lot better if I work the knots out for you.”

I swallowed hard, ashamed of my hesitation. I’d done far more with Hale in the past—what was a little massage in comparison? Not even a sexy shirt-off-on-the-bed sort of massage, but just on my calves.

He dropped his voice as if wanting to make sure it didn’t carry. “You can trust me, Loch. You’re about the only one who can. Won’t do a thing but help with your muscles.”

I wanted to say no, but something in his tone made that impossible. I didn’t want to hurt him, to risk hurting anything between us. Logically, I knew he wasn’t those creatures from the memory, knew that if he’d wanted to harm me, he’d had more than a few chances to do so.

So I gathered my courage and shifted, using my pack like a rest to lean my back against as I stretched my legs across his lap.

“Good girl,” he said softly before rolling my pants up to my knees. He removed my shoes and socks, each touch careful and slow.

And the first press of his fingers to my calf muscle made me let out a surprisingly loud gasp. I hadn’t realized they hurt that much.

Down the Path, both Yazmor and Tyrus swung their gazes toward me, their expressions having gone serious as if that noise was all it took to break them out of their petty fight. It only took a quick glance at me for them to realize the reason and just as quickly, they returned to their argument.

“See?” Hale said with a lopsided grin that made him look young.

“See what? It hurts worse.”

“At first, sure, but it’ll feel way better afterward.”

“Men just love to make promises like that, don’t they?” Even as I spoke, I knew he was right. He’d hardly started, and each touch hurt, but even I could tell the muscles had started to unknot and ease.

And yet, my hesitation weighed on me. After a moment, I whispered out a soft, ‘I’m sorry,’ that I wasn’t even sure he heard.

“No reason to be sorry. You should know by now that I ain’t the type to get mad over nothing.”

“Yeah, but it isn’t fair to take my shit out on you.”

He snorted softly, his gaze on my legs rather than my face. “That’s what people do. We get our armor on and when people get too close, they get themselves cut on it. Fuck knows I’ve cut you a few times myself doing the same shit.”

His words eased some of that shame inside me. I recalled the first time I’d caught sight of his scars, when he’d yelled at me and kept me from seeing them. I recalled the way he’d all but growled at me like a feral dog to keep me away from his wounds.

Before I had to respond, Hale dug his fingers into an especially tender area. I gritted my teeth to keep silent as he worked that knot.

“Breathe through it,” he said, but didn’t lighten his touch at all. Then again, that was so Hale. He didn’t soften himself, not even for me. Instead, he had always looked at me as if I could take it, as if I didn’t need him to lessen shit for me.

Soon enough, that pain eased, letting me pull in a deep breath.

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