He shook his head, knocking himself out of whatever weird trance he was in. He cleared his throat. “No. Let’s go.”
Myka followed Drake into the crisp morning air. The smell of eggs from the hidden chickens floated through the camp. Dawsick, Winslow, and Grady sat on logs talking and eating. Their eyes moved to her and her crazy hair.
Drake
Two hours later, Drake walked back into camp. His thoughts were lost in pre-Desolation and what he’d found the other day deep in the woods. He’d gone today to explore more. He wasn’t ready to show any of the other men the pre-Desolation shelter he’d found. Maybe he never would show them.
He opened the door to the shack, and immediately Myka’s eyes darted to the handful of stuff in his arms.
“What’s that?” she asked.
Drake shook his head. “It’s no big deal. Just some things I thought you might like.” He’d wanted to give her a few things to make her stay more comfortable, but now that he’d done just that, he started to regret it. He was trying to be thoughtful, but now it felt a little too thoughtful. He set the pile on the cot in front of her and stepped back, scratching his face. An uncomfortable feeling pressed against his chest as he watched her pick up each item.
“A brush? A mirror? New clothes?” She turned to him with a wide smile, the kind of smile that every man hopes to receive from a girl someday, but not him...he didn’t hope for that. She picked up the bottle of shampoo and smelled it, then sighed. “Shampoo! Where did you get this?”
He shrugged. “I actually brought that from Albion, but I hadn’t thought to pull it out yet.”
She nodded, then held up the clothes—a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Her sapphire eyes turned to him, full of questions. “These are pre-Desolation clothes. Did you bring these from Albion too?”
Drake scratched his head. Anybody watching him and all this scratching would think he had fleas. “Um...yes, and no...I mean,” he cleared his throat, not sure why all of a sudden he was so tongue-tied. “Yes, they are pre-Desolation clothes, but they didn’t come from Albion.”
“Where did you get them? How are they still intact?”
“Um…” He couldn’t tell her where he’d really found them. “It doesn’t matter. They probably stink and will fall apart the second you put them on, or maybe they won’t even fit.”
Myka lifted them up to smell. “They do stink,” she scrunched her nose, and Drake tried to ignore how cute it made her look, “but maybe you’ll let me wash them in the river?” She said it like a question, rocking up onto her toes.
“Sure.” He shrugged, watching as she held them up to her. “I picked the blue shirt because you said you like to wear blue.”
Her eyes bounced to him. “When did I say that?”
“The first night we slept here—when you wouldn’t stop talking.”
Her lips pulled into another smile. “I didn’t think you were listening.”
Crap.
“I wasn’t...really.” He cleared his throat. “I was trying to sleep, but you wouldn’t stop talking. I only picked up bits and pieces.” Why was he talking so fast? It probably had something to do with the amused look on her face. “Anyway, now you have some stuff to get ready with.”
“Thank you,” she said, keeping that same perfect smile on her pink lips.
“It’s no big deal.”
“It’s a big deal to me,” she said.
Drake tried to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling growing inside of his chest. “They might not even fit.”
Her bright blue eyes beamed at him again, and he really wished she’d stop doing that— stop looking so happy and utterly adorable.
“It will be better than this gray dress.” She twirled around the room with the shirt pressed up against her chest like she’d never seen anything so lovely in her whole life, which wasn’t possible. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me,” she said.
His palm rested on the nape of his neck. “It’s not a big deal.” Maybe if he kept saying that, they would both believe it. He needed Myka to go on thinking that he was a terrible kidnapping person, because he wasn’t sure if he could handle her looking at him like that again and again.
“So can we go to the river right now?” she asked. “I can wash the clothes and my hair.”
“I have things to do.” Really, he had nothing to do. They were all sitting around waiting for Kase to return from Tolsten House with the king’s response. Drake’s to-do list only included keeping his heart in lockdown mode.
“Then maybe Grady could take me to the river.” She shrugged innocently.
No.
That wasn’t happening.
The last thing Drake needed was Grady spending more time with the princess. He already saw the way Grady looked at her. Myka was way too charming, and Grady would never be able to resist her like Drake could. Drake was the perfect operative to spend time with her. He had his priorities in line, and any kindness he had shown her was for the sake of the bet.
“Fine,” he huffed. “We can go to the river.”
Myka practically frolicked out the door to the water’s edge. She set her pile of new clothes down by the bank and removed her shoes. Next went her jacket. Then she started unbuttoning the top of her dress.
“Whoa!” Drake said, stepping toward her. “What are you doing?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’m going to take a bath in the river. Wash my hair. Wash the clothes.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
She pursed her lips together, narrowing her gaze in on him. “Why not?”
“Because there are four other guys here who might sit and watch you.”
Myka looked around. “I don’t see the other guys. And we all know that if Horseface wasn’t napping, he’d be sniffing around. So I guess the only one I have to worry about is you. Are you going to sit and watch me?”
Drake scoffed like she had said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “No!”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Good. Then turn around.”
He sucked in one long, deep breath as he turned his body away. Each second another item of clothing dropped to the ground beside him: her dress, her undergarments.
Drake rolled his eyes in frustration then looked up.
Heaven help me.
At this point, he needed all the help he could get.
Myka
Myka let out a yell as she dove into the middle of the languid river. The cold water took her breath away, but at the same time, it felt so good. Besides her shower a few days ago, the only way she’d been able to clean herself was with a few splashes of water over her body.
She looked back at Drake standing rigid on the bank. He had thought about her, given her a gift, remembered she liked the color blue. She wasn’t sure why he had done all of that or what it meant, but it felt big—special, at least to her. Myka had never had anyone, let alone a guy, do something like this for her. She was probably reading too much into it. This was probably basic prisoner etiquette. There was probably a handbook somewhere that said captors should give their captives a thoughtful gift. That seemed right, so she decided to let it go, not dwell on the meaning anymore.
“You can turn around now,” she said to him. The river was deep enough that only her shoulders were above the water.
“Uh, I’m good here.”
Myka laughed, arching her back so she could dip the top of her head into the water. Her hair was a tangled mess that her fingers would never be able to fully solve.
“Can you pass me the shampoo?” she asked.
Drake angled his head to the shampoo in the grass next to him. He bent his body over like a teapot being poured from the side and reached for the bottle. He stepped backward until he got a little closer to the water, then he used his free hand to cover his eyes. He shifted his body and reached his hand out, expecting her to somehow grab the bottle he waved in the air.
“What are you doin
g?” Myka couldn’t keep her smile out of her words.
“Handing you the shampoo.”
“You’re acting like an idiot.”
He straightened. “I’m acting like a gentleman.”
“Well, my arms aren’t five feet long so you’re going to have to throw it to me,” she said.
“I can’t see you!” he snapped.
“Then open your eyes!” she snapped back.
Drake dropped his hand and looked at her. A look of shock crossed over his face, and Myka had to look down to make sure that her chest was still covered under the water.
It was.
“What’s the problem, Commander? Have you never seen a woman’s bare shoulders before?”
He shook his head. “Of course I have.” Then he threw her the shampoo like it was a hot coal in his hand and rotated his body back around, pointing to the clump of trees thirty feet away. “I’m going to go wait over there.”
Myka smiled. For some reason, she liked knowing that she had affected him. Drake’s flustered, blushing face was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. She smiled as she poured a circle of shampoo into the palm of her hand and began cleaning herself up.
20
Drake
That night, Drake sat on the cot, facing the closed curtain, waiting for Myka to change into her new clothes that were now dry.
“Finished,” she said.
She tore the curtain open, and his eyes went wide. What in the world had he been thinking? Myka looked incredibly appealing in the fitted clothes from pre-Desolation. Drake had never seen a woman wear clothes like that. He’d seen Myka in pants and shirt, but this took it to a whole new level. Clothes like that didn’t exist—pants and a shirt that were made specifically for a woman, fitting snugly around every curve of her body; you couldn’t find that anywhere. They weren’t essential, but man, they should be.
Drake swallowed and slowly dragged his gaze up her body to her face. Myka’s brows were bent in confusion, and she looked down at the clothes she wore.
“Do they look bad?”
“Eh, it’s fine.” He shook his head, walking to the table to grab...what? There was nothing to grab.
Shoot.
His foot knocked into the leg of a chair, sending it bumping into the table.
“You’re being weird,” she said. “They must not look good. I’m going to take them off.”
She spun around, but Drake reached his hand out to stop her.
“No! Don’t change.” She turned and the shirt twisted with her body in a really great and terrible way, and immediately Drake let go, scrubbing his hand across his face. “Can we go out to dinner?” His words came out sharp.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” Her sarcasm was thick as she strode past him out the door, and suddenly his personal space was filled with her flowery scent. The smell was so good. It was like he had walked past a lilac tree on the day it blossomed. He clenched his jaw and turned his head away. What in heaven’s name had he been thinking, giving her shampoo? Was he trying to torture himself? Because everything about her clean, feminine scent made him miserable.
Drake trailed after her, rubbing his eyes.
Myka and her new clothes made everything a lot more complicated.
Myka
Dinner finished, and Myka offered to take the cast iron pot to the river to wash it out, not as a way to escape but as a way to ease her boredom. The river was close enough to the fire that Drake could still keep an eye on her but far enough away she had some privacy. The cool evening air swirled around her, and she pulled her gray jacket closed over her chest. Crickets chirped in the grass, and she waved her hand out in front of her, swiping at a mosquito.
She missed her father, the man she knew—the one who joked with her, played checkers with her, ate dinner with her. The father who was a good king, but here at camp, that man didn’t exist. Maybe he didn’t exist anywhere. Perhaps he had passed away alone, without her.
The last few days had blurred into each other as Myka had gotten lost in repetition. She was a prisoner, trapped every day in the claustrophobic walls of Drake’s shack. Each day was the same—a mixture of sleeping, pacing, banging on walls, staring at the ceiling, watching the kidnappers, listening to their stupid conversations, and waiting for Kase to come with her father’s response. She didn’t know what was taking so long.
Myka stared vacantly at the trickling river water, watching how it moved and changed direction. She would give anything to have that kind of freedom. Each day felt the same, and she didn’t have any real purpose or goal to direct her. But wasn’t that how her life had been at Tolsten House? Besides trying to get her father healthy, Myka had no purpose, no goals. It was stagnant and depressing. She was tired of being trapped by her father’s rules, watching as years of her life passed her by. She had more that she could offer the world. At least, Drake thought she had more to offer. His words the other day had taken traits that she thought were her weaknesses and turned them into something strong. Boldness. Bravery. Loyalty. It almost sounded too good to be true, but she wanted it to be true. She wanted to be made up of good attributes.
“Well, if it isn’t the princess.”
Myka startled, turning around to see Dawsick coming at her.
Wonderful. Exactly who I want to spend my time with.
Her eyes glanced back behind him. They were far enough away from the others that panic swirled around in her stomach at the thought of being alone with the disgusting man.
She bent down, picking up the pot, and started walking back to camp. “I was just leaving.”
He reached out, grabbing her elbow. “Not so fast.” There was a determined look in his dark eyes. It was that look that made her heart race.
“Let me go. Drake will be wondering where I am.”
Dawsick slung his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him, so the sides of their hips touched. She smelled the trace of alcohol on his breath as he spoke. “Drake doesn’t own you.” He brushed his lips into the side of her neck, whispering in her ear, “You’ve been driving me crazy all night with your new clothes. What do you expect me to do?”
Myka pushed down her nerves and squinted her eyes at him, laying on a hard smile. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Don’t you remember what happened last time you tried to touch me?”
“I’m not scared of you,” he said, nuzzling into her check.
Myka pulled away from him, swinging the pot toward his head, but he ducked, grabbing the handle out of her hands. He threw the pot down, then stepped toward her, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her toward him.
“Let go of me,” she snarled, pushing against his chest, but he was so much bigger. She couldn’t budge him away.
One hand slid down her back, lower and lower, as his lips drew close to hers. She could smell his dinner on his breath mixed with liquor, making her nostrils burn.
“Get away from me!” she said as she turned her head.
“You heard the princess. Get away from her.” Myka peered to the side, seeing Drake and his steely eyes. His jaw was hard, and his stance was wide.
Dawsick released his grip on her backside but kept his hand wrapped around her waist. “What does it matter to you? She’s not your property.”
“She’s nobody’s property.”
Dawsick’s laugh came out with an edge of roughness. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft on her? What would King Ezra say if he knew Adler’s daughter had wormed her way into your bed and your heart?”
Drake cocked his arm back and threw his fist at Dawsick, connecting with his jaw. The force of the blow sent him backward, and he released his hold on her waist. He lunged for Drake, swinging his arms wildly out in front of him, but Drake moved and ducked away. He sent another punch to Dawsick, hitting him in the nose. Myka didn’t know if she should be helping somehow or not. Admittedly, it was attractive to see Drake beat up Dawsick for her. Was it okay to be turned on by a man defending her?
Be
cause she was.
Dawsick came up swinging again; this time, his knuckles hit Drake in the face, splitting his lip. Myka winced, wishing he could have come out from the fight unscathed. He ducked under another one of Dawsick’s swings then sent an uppercut to his stomach, making him double over in pain.
He leaned down, grabbing Dawsick by the back of his shirt. “If I ever see you touch Myka again, I’ll kill you.” Then he pushed him into the grass and walked off.
She stood motionless, watching Dawsick hold his stomach.
“Myka?”
She looked up at Drake. He was ten feet away waiting for her. That was her cue to leave.
You hit someone, then you leave.
Noted.
She kicked Dawsick in the side as hard as she could then ran off after Drake, thankful that Dawsick hadn’t grabbed her foot and tripped her. That would have completely ruined the whole tough-girl vibe she was going for.
Drake didn’t say anything as they walked back to the shack. He opened the door, pausing for her to go through first. Her eyes met his as she passed, and she wondered what he really thought of her. Was she a nuisance, some annoying girl that he was forced to babysit? Or did he actually care about her?
“Did he hurt you?” Drake asked.
Myka shook her head. They stared at each other for a moment until she couldn’t handle his brown eyes anymore, then she walked into the house, leaving him at the door. She sat down on the edge of the cot, and an unsettling feeling brewed inside of her. Tears streamed down her face, and before she knew what was happening, Drake was sitting on the cot next to her.
He lifted his hand like he thought about touching her, but then he dropped it back into his lap. “It’s over now,” he said. “Everything’s all right.”
She swiped at her eyes, careful not to meet his gaze. “Thank you,” she said.
“It was nothing.”
She looked down at her hands, studying them. “Why did you do it?” She guessed Drake was protecting their asset, not protecting her. He needed the princess alive and well, just in case her father had some weapons to trade.
The Stolen Princess: A YA Dystopian Romance (Desolation Book 3) Page 19