by Amy Miles
TWELVE
Wet hair whips about my face, tangling in my eyelashes. I can feel lake water clinging to my skin as frigid winds nip at my face and bare legs. My arms and torso are concealed within a warm, soft material I can’t quite place. If feels almost like a coat, but I know I didn’t have one on. I sway, moving in rhythmic motions as strong arms hold me close.
I try to remember where I am and why I’m being carried. My thoughts are jumbled as my eyes flutter open. I stare up into the dense treetops and see that night hangs thick over the forest, the moon glowing dimly behind the clouds. I become aware of aches spreading the length of my body. My lungs feel like fire in my chest and I feel incredibly weak as well.
What happened to me?
“Easy,” a deep voice soothes. “You’re safe now.”
I roll my head and look up into my savior’s face, shrouded by dark shadow. It’s hard to make out any definite details. His scent is strongly masculine, tinged with pine and smoke. His arms are strong, easily carrying my weight. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the effort it takes to think.
“That was quite a spill you took back there.”
I shiver, unsure if it’s from the cold or from the resonance of his deep voice. “Thank…” I frown, forcing the chattering of my teeth to cease. “Thank you.”
His teeth appear to glow in the darkness. I can barely make out the fullness of his lips as he smiles. “You’re welcome.”
I wish I could see more of his face, but he remains infuriatingly veiled as he shifts to focus on our path through the woods. I reach up and rub my head, feeling a rather large bump over my temple.
Time seems irrelevant as I pretend not to stare at him. I fight back against the exhaustion that weighs me down. My curiosity over my guardian angel is too much for me to let go.
Strong calloused hands grip the back of my knees as he clutches me to his chest. His powerful body propels us easily through the woods. He never slows and never seems to fatigue.
“Who are you?”
His head tilts down as a wide grin stretches across his face. “Wow, you must’ve hit your head pretty hard back there, Princess.”
“You!” I weakly struggle to be free of his grasp. “Put me down, Bastien!”
“Not gonna happen.”
I fight to pull my fragmented thoughts together as I arch my back to make it harder for him to contain me. “I’m warning you…”
A deep rumbling laughter vibrates in his chest as his arms clamp down on my legs. Too weak to resist, I buckle and collapse against his chest. “You’re going to get yourself hurt. You nearly drowned a few minutes ago, so chill out!”
What had been an invigorating encounter has turned into a complete annoyance. “Please?”
I can feel each muscle in his abdomen constrict as he chuckles. “Still pathetic.”
I cross my arms over my chest and fume silently. I refuse to let him see how much it hurts me to do so. The muscles in my arms scream with pain and my back is beyond agony. A sharp stabbing pain radiates through my skull making me wish I’d remained unconscious.
“You left me.” Perhaps I should be thankful that he pulled me from death’s grasp, but all I feel right now is the sting of his betrayal.
His fingers tense around my arms as his stride lengthens. “I knew you’d make it out. You’re a fighter, you’re resourceful, and judging by that little display back there at the lake, I’d say you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.”
“Apparently not,” I grumble as I wriggle in his arms. It’s hard not to think about how solid he feels against my arm. His strength is surprisingly pleasant.
My legs twitch involuntarily as sleep begins to snatch me away. Bastien glances down at me as he moves in and out of the moonlight. “You should rest. There’ll be plenty of time to hate me later.”
“I’m not done with you yet,” I yawn. My eyes grow heavy and I realize Bastien has added a bit more sway to his step, to rock me to sleep.
As my eyes flutter closed, I think I hear him whisper, “I sincerely hope not.”
When I rouse again, I instantly notice the difference. The biting cold is gone, along with any sign of a wintry gale. Flickering firelight dances along a gray stone ceiling overhead, which melds seamlessly with stone and trails to the floor that I now rest upon.
I swivel my head to take in my surroundings but halt when I find Bastien lounging against the far wall. Self-consciously, I duck further into the oversized woolen sweater that envelopes me. I tuck my knees up inside it, to hide my bare legs. It’s only now that I realize how little I’m actually wearing. “You undressed me?”
He shrugs, tapping his fingers against the wall at his sides. “You were freezing. I had to get you warm.”
Simply said, but the implication of his mischievous smile burns in my cheeks. Butterflies dive bomb my stomach as I cast him a guarded look. “Where are my clothes?”
“Back at the lake. I plan to go back for them once I know you’re alright.”
“Did you look?” I demand.
He smirks. “Now wouldn’t you like to know?”
My low growl only produces a wide grin, which infuriates me more. “I didn’t really see anything.”
“How could you not? I’m practically naked.”
I’m surprised when he looks unsettled. There’s something lurking in the depths of his eyes. Admiration? Perhaps, but if I were to bet my favorite dagger on it, I’d say that it’s tortured longing that stares back at me.
I look away, worried that if I keep openly staring at him I might give him the wrong idea. Or the right idea. My waterlogged brain can’t seem to sort through the stunning man standing before me with the grimy vagrant I met back in the City.
His hair is clean, a contrast to the grungy matted hair he had the first time we met. I can actually see the raven’s wing color tint in his hair. His face still sports light stubble, but it looks well kept. His pants, although still wet from his dive in the lake, look free of stains. It’s amazing what a proper bath can do for a guy.
“I thought you were just a dream,” I mutter.
“Do you always dream of handsome guys rescuing you?”
“Hardly,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Besides, I never said you were handsome.”
He gives me a knowing wink. “You didn’t have to.”
I scowl and rub my cheek against the neckline of the sweater. It is soft against my wind burned cheek. I blink, finally registering that Bastien stands before me completely and utterly shirtless. I look up and instantly wish I hadn’t.
My gaze roams over the hard planes of his chest. When I dip lower to take in his wet pants, I flush and stare fixedly at the floor.
“Like what you see?”
“I’ve seen better,” I snap, purposefully meeting his direct gaze head on. It’s true that Eamon is nice to look at, but he’s got nothing on Bastien. I bite my tongue and silently berate myself for even noticing Bastien’s looks. “Aren’t you cold?”
His muscles shift as he shrugs, but I refuse to show any reaction. “You need the sweater more than I do.”
I’m tempted to rip it off and prove to him that I can handle the cold just as well as he can, but the thought of being practically naked in front of him, while conscious, is more than my pride can bear. Instead, I tuck my hands under my arms and lean back against the wall. “So where are we?” I ask, looking around the small space. A bundle of twigs rests against the far wall. I spy two overstuffed burlap sacks lying near the back of the cave. My stomach growls at the thought that they might contain food.
I let one hand drop to my side and curl around the blanket I sit on. It is thin and patched, but provides a satisfactory barrier between the floor and my skin. A small cloth bag has been stuffed to create a makeshift pillow.
“You living here now?”
His mood darkens as he looks toward the cave entrance. “It’s homier tha
n the subway car.”
The sharp edge to his voice betrays his emotions. Bastien has never lived in the woods before. I can only imagine how difficult this transition must be for him. “I’m sorry you had to leave.”
“It was bound to happen sooner or later. I’d just hoped to make it until summer.”
I drop my gaze and tuck my arms around my calves as I press my cheek to my knees. The silence is thick between us, but not uncomfortable. “Thank you for saving me, twice.”
He clears his throat. “Yeah, it’s no big deal.”
I shift to give my tailbone a break from the unforgiving floor and wince as the wool sweater grazes my side. Bastien is on the move before a gasp fully crosses my lips. His kneels before me and reaches for my side.
His face hardens as I bat his hand away. “You’re hurt. We have to clean your wound or it’ll get infected. I would’ve done it earlier but I was more concerned with getting you warm.”
“I’m fine,” I insist through gritted teeth.
I hardly see the flash of his hand before he cups my side, squeezing. I cry out and tears sting my eyes. “Fine, huh?”
I gulp down my cries, fighting for a credible defiant glare. Bastien pulls his hand back and shakes his head. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”
A pained smile pinches the corners of my lips. “I’ve been accused of that a time or two.”
I half expect him to start lecturing me like Eamon or Toren would in this situation, but instead his familiar smirk settles into place. “I like that.”
“Really?” I blink, shocked. “Most people hate that about me.”
“That’s a shame,” he says walking over to kneel beside one of the burlap sacks. He opens the neck of the bag and rummages through the contents. “I find it rather appealing when a girl’s not afraid to speak her mind.”
I blush through the entire palette of reds before he shifts his attention back to me. I drop my gaze as Bastien approaches with a small bottle and cloth in his hands. He sets them down beside me before disappearing through the cave entrance. He returns with a handful of snow.
“Oh no. No way! I’m not letting you play doctor on me!” I hold out my hands in protest.
“Are you stubborn enough to let me risk frostbite for you?”
I smirk at his challenge and am almost tempted to prolong it, but notice the slight shiver in his fingers. I drop the smirk and submit silently. “I’m really going to regret this,” I grumble as I lay down on my side and raise the sweater over my hip, exposing far more of my body than I care to think about.
Holding his hands together, Bastien lowers them over my side and breathes onto the snow, letting the water droplets clean my wound. He places the remainder of the snow directly onto the wound and I nearly moan with relief as it numbs the burning.
Bastien works with steady hands and complete confidence. I wonder where he learned these skills but remember that he said his mother was a teacher. Surely, she had some medical training when she worked in a school with children.
Dirt and blood stain the scrap of tan cloth he uses to clean around the wound. I hiss and try to pull back, but his hand clamps down on my thigh, holding me firmly in place.
“I need you to hold still. I don’t have much of this medicine left,” he says, as several drops of a cold liquid patter against my side. I can feel it foaming, burning. I groan, gnawing on my lip until the pain subsides.
“There,” he says, placing a new scrap of fabric over my side. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Yanking the sweater back down over my hip, I rise gingerly to a seated position. He stares openly at me, the slight sheen along his forehead unmistakable as his eyes follow my legs as I curl them back into my sweater. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
I curl my arms around my legs, careful to make sure none of my bare skin is showing. “Pervert.”
He shifts back onto his knees and tosses the empty bottle into the darkened rear of the cave. “I’ve been called worse by girls far less appealing than you.”
“Girls? What girls?”
His jaw clenches and for a moment, I think he might actually flee my question but he surprises me. “You’re not the first person to wander into the City, Illyria. Just the most recent.”
My mouth gapes open. “Where did they come from? Somewhere close by?”
He turns so that only his profile is accessible in the flickering firelight. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I want to press harder for details, but Bastien clams up completely. I grit my teeth and shove aside my curiosity for now.
The stinging in my side subsides slowly and I realize I have yet to thank him. My pride would seek to stop me, but my mother didn’t raise a heathen. “Thank you, for tending to my wound, I mean. I uh…I appreciate the gesture.”
Bastien looks at me from the corner of his eye. “Well, that sounded rather painful for you.”
I chuckle and drop my head. My drying hair falls over my face, hiding me. I don’t know what it is about him that manages to confuse and infuriate me so easily. I realize I don’t have the longest of tempers, but where Bastien is concerned, I’m locked and loaded. “I’m not all that good with people. In fact, I kinda suck at it.”
“No kidding.”
Grabbing the makeshift pillow, I launch it at him. I wince and draw back my arm to protect the new wound etched into my chest. He glances over at me. “That’s quite a marking you have on your back.”
My eyes narrow as I glare at him. “And my chest?”
A smirk tugs at his lips. “Actually, that one is far more interesting.”
I gasp and search the space for something else to throw at him. Unfortunately, the pillow was my only ammo so I settle with glaring at him.
“Where’d you get those markings from?” He asks, daring to glance back at me.
My shoulders rise and fall with a halfhearted shrug. “No clue.”
He laughs and turns to face me. “Something else you suck at? Lying.”
“Only to you,” I grumble, absently picking at a loose thread on Bastien’s sweater.
“Hmm,” he rubs his stubbled chin. “I wonder why that would be.”
My thoughts disperse as he arches an eyebrow. He inches closer, seriously invading my personal space. I can’t breathe, can’t think. He leans back, watching me fumble for a comeback, but every sarcastic retort abandons me during my time of need.
“You’re a very intriguing girl, Illyria,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair back from my temple before he rises and moves toward the back of the cave. His steps are purposeful, as if he’s actually trying to restrain the urge to sprint away from me.
I bury my head in my knees as I hear him riffle through his bag. I groan, silently berating myself for failing miserably at our verbal sparring.
I’ve never met a guy before who challenged me at every step, sometimes actually besting me at my own game. I don’t know what is wrong with me tonight.
“What are you doing?” I ask, searching for him in the darkened recesses of the cave.
“Getting dressed. You’re welcome to watch if you like.” I can sense his smug grin before I look up to see it firmly seated on his handsome face. He walks back toward me, his movement fluid, confident.
“Where did you get that shirt?” I hiss, staring wide-eyed at the three red moons emblazoned across Bastien’s chest.
He glances down at the black shirt. “Stole it off one of those Squaddies back in the City the night we were attacked. I don’t think he needed it as much as I did.”
I stare at him, my suspicion not quite abated. “How’d you get free?”
“I pretended that I saw you down the street and yelled for you to run. One of them loosened his grip to yell into his radio. Felt good to knock him out.” His lips pull into a satisfied smile.
“So that’s how you got
out of the City,” I mutter, mentally filling in the rest of the blanks. “You snuck out with the enemy. Clever but very foolish.”
“What can I say?” He grins, sinking down beside me. “I live for danger. I’ve been living with that scum my entire life. They may think they’re smarter than me, but I never back down from a fight.”
“Me either.” I toss him a wry grin. “Sounds like we both have a hero complex.”
His eyebrow rises. “A what?”
“It’s what my friends always say I have.” I drop my voice to mimic Toren’s gruff tone. “A hero complex describes a person’s insatiable need to seek out danger for the purpose of making themselves feel good about their efforts.”
Bastien snorts and nods. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Guess we have more in common than you thought, huh?”
My smile falters as I watch him. I can’t imagine what life would be like living day by day completely alone. I wonder how many nights Bastien risked discovery just to go to the factory rooftop to watch the Caldonians below. I don’t think I could last long without having anyone to speak to.
I sigh and hold out my hand. He eyes me suspiciously. “Take it,” I say.
His fingers wrap around mine and I pull him close, ignoring the pain in my side. “Out here, the only people we can trust are the ones closest to us. You saved my life, Bastien. I owe you my trust.”
At first, he looks taken aback. I don’t blame him, because I’m shocked myself, but then a slow smile spreads along his face as his fingers tighten. His grip tightens on my forearm and I can feel his unspoken gratitude. “Don’t make me regret this,” I warn as I release his arm and sit back.
He nods. “This probably isn’t the best time to crack a joke then, huh?”
I snort, shaking my head. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”
His eyes seem to glow blue, mirroring the flames nearby, as they search my face. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll head to the lake to grab your clothes and be back before sunup.”
I ease back onto the blanket and let him place the pillow beneath my head. “Will you be ok without me for a while?”
I’m confused by how this sarcastic rogue can turn into someone so compassionate, so completely unpredictable, in the blink of an eye. “I made a tornado tonight. I think I can take care of a few aliens.”
I anticipate his smirk before it appears. As I nestle down into the blanket, I try not to ponder how I’m able to predict his smiles or lashing sarcasm. Maybe it’s because I am too much like him.
“That you can,” he says as my eyelids droop.
A heaviness falls over me like a weighted blanket, warm and secure. My ears prick at the sound of scraping and I open my eyes to see him beating the fire with his boots, snuffing out the glowing embers at the fire’s edge. The cave falls into darkness.
His footsteps shift toward the cave opening and I see his figure silhouetted against the sky. “Hey!” He turns back. I hesitate, feeling foolish. “Be careful.”
“Always,” he says and disappears into the night.