Page 31 of Run Like the Devil

“Better, right?”

“You’re just a sadist.”

“Maybe, but that fact you like me says more about you than me, doesn’t it?”

The easy, familiar back and forth had me smiling beside myself. It was the first time in a while I felt like things could go back to how they’d been before. In the days since that memory, I’d struggled so much to find my place again. It had felt as if what I’d thought was stable had been yanked out from beneath me.

I’d worried I’d never feel like this again, never be able to smile and laugh with the men in my life again, but for the first time, I felt like maybe it wasn’t as far gone a conclusion as I’d thought.

“I like to see you smile,” Hale admitted, his touches having turned gentler. Or maybe I’d just gotten used to it? Maybe it was like his attitude—it wasn’t different, but I understood him better, so it didn’t bother me as it once had.

“Really? Most people say it’s a sign I’m about to do something dumb.”

“Well, that ain’t exactly wrong, but I like the stupid shit you do. It means life isn’t ever boring when you’re around.” He peered around us as if to prove the point. “I mean, we’re in some fucking nightmare Path on the way to break into the Plains. Never would have figured this was anywhere in my future.”

“We’ll see if you’re so happy when we get torn apart here.”

“Long as I’m next to you when it happens, well, there are worse ways to go.”

I used my heel to kick him in the thigh lightly as a punishment. “Don’t say that. You should value your life more.”

“Oh, I value it plenty, but I’m also a man who knows what things are worth. Spent a lot of years on my own, looking for a place to belong, for something worth wanting, and now that I’ve found that? Well, I got no plans on letting it go no matter how dangerous shit gets.”

His words came out so serious that I dropped my gaze, unable to look at him, not wanting him to see the way they hit me. I thought back to when I’d met Hale, when he’d shoved me against a wall and had said he planned to fuck me. He’d sure as hell affected parts of me with that—parts a lot farther south than my heart—and I would have never thought him capable of making me feel this sort of warmth.

His laugh made it worse, but he moved on to grasp my foot in his large, strong hand. He pressed his thumb into my insole, and this time the sound I made wasn’t pain at all.

I slapped my hand over my mouth to silence it, afraid to put something out there I wasn’t ready for.

“Stop worrying so much,” Hale said as he worked on my foot. “I’m not about to jump on you just because you moan a little. Why don’t you take it easy until Gorrin gets a fire going and just let me work? Close your eyes and relax.”

I was about to tell him there was no way I could relax when he touched me like that, but the moment I opened my mouth, a wide yawn escaped me.

Hale lifted his eyebrow as if to mock me, his hands never stopping their magic.

And since I couldn’t really argue with him—and I didn’t want to—I gave in and closed my eyes. It didn’t take long before his touch eased me enough that I drifted off to the first peaceful sleep I’d had in a while.

* * * *

I woke with a gasp, a dream echoing in my head.

No, not a dream, a memory that isn’t even my own.

No matter how much I knew it wasn’t me who had experienced it, I still struggled with the after-effects. It made me feel oddly connected to whoever had, to the person who had lived through that. They’d not only had to overcome the actual event, the memories, but also physically heal. It reminded me of their broken body, the way they’d pulled themselves through the dirt and grass, stumbling the few times they got to their feet.

Sleep wouldn’t come again, so I forced myself to my feet. I saw no sign of Gorrin, but a fire crackled just a few feet away, telling me he’d returned at some point. Hale and Tyrus slept, one at each end of the Path, like guards to ensure nothing could get past them.

The only one awake was Yazmor, who sat across the fire from me. His gaze was down, locked on something in his hands. When I took a step closer, I realized he had the book we’d brought open in his lap, and he scanned through the writing.

I sat beside him, the action enough for him to look over at me. “Done sleeping?”

“Seems that way.”

“Nightmares?”

I nodded, then gestured at the book. “Find anything useful?”

Yazmor tilted the book my way, but the writing inside wasn’t a language I recognized. “This was written by an old Demon Lord who sent people to the Path. Most never came back, but a few did.”

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