Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
SOFIA
F or the first time in a week, Sofia knew where she was going. Not a vague sense of direction or following the sun, but a true understanding of the path back home. Clarita had drawn out a map of where the shapeshifters’ camp was and Sofia had been able to figure out where her own base was from there. They’d missed the entrance back into the tunnels by a mile or two, veering too far west. The flood down the river and trip to the camp had brought them farther off course, but they hadn’t backtracked too far. If her estimates were correct, they’d be back at the base by tonight or tomorrow. That thought made her stomach churn with an unease that she didn’t have the energy to examine. Instead, she focused on the man trudging behind her.
Fox was as quiet as she was as they walked, not questioning the confidence of Sofia’s stride as she blazed the trail toward home. He was following her still, without coercion, and she wondered if he knew he was being led back to the resistance. He’d wake up from whatever stupor he was in eventually and realize where they were going. He’d fight her then, she was sure of it. And then what would she do?
A few days ago things seemed black and white. Fox was on the side of the king and deserved his fate, whatever it would be. But now? Could she convince him to come to their side? Would the others even trust him if he did? Would she?
Time trickled by, as sluggish as their steps through the underbrush. It was in sharp contrast to the thoughts racing through her mind with every passing moment. Fox seemed lost in his own thoughts, communicating with only the occasional grunt as they passed dried meat and fruits between them during a break and then headed out once more.
Despite her hunger, she only managed a few bites of food before her stomach turned and she had to stop. Her mind wouldn’t let her forget the hands that had prepared this food, all of the bodies they’d left behind, unburied and unhonored. She had only known them for a couple of days, but the grief and guilt burned through her. They were just more people she’d failed to protect from the king and his men—more lives laid at her feet.
It was as if the pain of seeing the tribe massacred had opened up the dam she’d built around her grief for Mina. The anguish crashed over her like a wave and all she could do was breathe and hope she didn’t drown in it. She’d learned over the cycles while in the resistance that grief wasn’t a simple emotion to be felt and forgotten. It was a tide, ebbing and flowing in its own rhythm between sadness, hate, and something more. And it was more than missing a person. Grief was the pain of the utter destruction of every moment that could have and should have been—every life that might have been lived, extinguished in a flash.
She should go back. She should tell Clarita and the others. She could only imagine the look on their faces when they returned home to find nothing and no one. And Sofia and Fox would be gone, run off like the ones that massacred them. How would they not blame them?
“It wasn’t your fault.” Fox’s voice startled her and she flushed to see the look of knowing on his face as she met his eyes.
“I wasn’t…I don’t—” she started.
“Your face speaks for itself,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m actually quite surprised you’ve managed to spy as long as you have. You’re way too easy to read.”
“Not all of us can look like we just smelled a dead skunk constantly.”
“You didn’t kill them. If anything, they were looking for me.”
“All that death for a single person? You think you’re that important?”
He didn’t speak for a moment and she wondered if he had taken the small jab as a true insult. But he didn’t look annoyed, just thoughtful.
“I don’t suppose I am. But why else were the king’s men out this far?”
“Maybe they don’t need rational reasons to murder. Not when they don’t even see us as people. Sometimes it feels like we’re screaming at the top of our lungs, trying to remind the crown that we’re human just like the Dereyans. Our children feel the same hunger and bleed the same red.”
“It shouldn’t be your responsibility to convince your government of your humanity.” The words were uncharacteristic and brought Sofia up short, but Fox wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were focused in the distance as if his mind wasn’t quite there.
“I wish the rest of the country saw it that way. It seems the louder I scream, the less people listen.”
They fell back into silence once more, though perhaps not as hostile as Sofia had expected. It was a comfortable silence, albeit still heavy with sadness and grief.
The sun was low, but still visible through the trees to the west, when Sofia recognized her surroundings—a familiar rocky outcrop. The knot in her chest released. Almost as soon as she noted the sensation, a new tension fell across her shoulders and she stopped, looking around.
“We should make camp here for the night.”
“Are you sure? There’s enough light to keep going for a bit longer.”
“No, this is a good spot to camp. We should take advantage of it.”
The space they were in could barely even be considered a clearing, with only a small patch of ground visible between the underbrush of ferns and vines that knotted the ground. At least there were no large roots and the ground wasn’t sloped. It was good enough at best.
He didn’t argue with her, though the small crease between his brows was not quite wiped away by her flimsy explanation. She wasn’t even sure she could have been honest with him in that moment. It would have meant having to understand her own motivations, swirling in her gut in waves of anxiety, sadness, and anger.
She was finally only a couple hours from home after a week of chaos. She had Fox, ready to return to Micael as her peace offering. And she had a dragon feather tucked safely away in her bag, proof that she’d been right all these cycles with her ramblings about the dragon gods. Yet all she could think about was the softness in Fox’s voice when he’d talked about his brother and the broken bodies they’d left behind. She wasn’t ready to face her people. She was barely ready to face herself.
Fox sensed her mood and didn’t speak as he began to gather wood for the fire, setting it in the cleared out space she’d made with perfect precision. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling. She knew he’d become defensive if she pointed out that he’d been learning over the past week.
They ate their dinner in front of the fire, the warmth suffusing them, even as the temperature dropped. It was well into the cold season and Sofia could almost catch glimpses of her breath in the air when she stepped too far from the fire.
“Do you think the Dereyans are working with the dragons?” Fox’s voice held a tone of uncertainty that she hadn’t ever heard before.
“I can’t imagine why or how,” she said, hands opened wide in her lap, as if trying to grasp an explanation. “Your people don’t even believe the dragons are alive. They’re the reason most of them are dead and the rest are in hiding. What could convince the dragons to follow any Dereyan orders?”
Fox’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes darkened as if the shadows had been pulled across his face. “I don’t know, but we both saw what we saw back there.”
“The dragons were above human politics. They didn’t take orders from humans, only responding to prayers and the blood offerings when they wanted. Even then, the history books talk about the dragon gods turning their back to the wrong types of prayer or selfish requests from their most devoted followers. It doesn’t make any sense. These aren’t the gods that I’ve read about—that I spent cycles studying. No dragon would…”
Sofia stopped short when she saw the small tick of Fox’s smile barely curling his lips. He was laughing at her. She snapped her mouth shut.
“I didn’t mean to make you stop,” he said, his voice more genuine than she expected.
“I was rambling. I get too much sometimes, I know.”
“You’re not too much,” he said, face serious. “You’re passionate. It’s…nice. You shouldn’t have to dim your light for others.”
Her cheeks heated, unsure of the compliment.
“My brother used to go off on rants, too. It was the one trait my father hated in him.” His smile dropped as if remembering something. “But it’s a good thing to be passionate about things.”
“Tell that to the rest of the resistance,” she said, letting the bitterness slip between her teeth.
“I’m not sure they’d care about my opinions.”
“We’ll be at the base by tomorrow mid-morning.” His expression didn’t change at her words; he blinked.
“I assumed.”
“If you want to run…you should do so now.”
“I thought I was your prisoner. Aren’t you going to knock me out in my sleep and tie me up?”
“With how thick your skull is, I don’t think I have the strength to knock you unconscious.”
He smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” And then he frowned. “What will your people do if you show back up after a week without me?”
She shrugged, stomach sick with all of the things she could think of. “I don’t think it much matters, at this point. They were about to kick me out for insubordination anyway. I have no job, no home, and no place in the resistance. Maybe I’ll walk off into the rainforest and start my own tribe.”
“Your friends won’t defend you?”
“They’ll be glad to see I’m not dead.” Sofia said. “Even Micael will have to admit that, but it won’t change his choice. My impulsivity got in the way one too many times. I’m not always great at following orders or asking for help.”
Fox snorted and she saw his silent agreement plain on his face.
“What happened to you wanting me to be passionate and not dim my light?” she asked.
“Oh, that’s not a passion problem. You can care about something and still know how to ask for help.”
She grumbled to herself, even knowing she couldn’t argue with his logic.
“If I go back with you, will they still kill me?” he asked, voice just above a whisper. “Even if I try to bargain with this Micael guy?”
She picked at the skin on her fingers and didn’t answer immediately. She was trying to justify an answer she knew she couldn’t give him. She wouldn’t lie.
“Probably,” she said eventually. “If the chief commander followed through with his threats, the rest of the prisoners will be dead by now. You’re too much of a risk with your connections to your father and Chief Commander Harlow. They’ll get any information they can out of you and then they’ll silence you.”
He nodded. He’d known the answer before he’d even asked it.
“I’ll stay tonight. I’d break my ankle trying to get back to the city in the dark. But tomorrow morning, I should leave.”
A fine line of blood welled up along her thumbnail where she was picking, dark red in the firelight.
“That’s only fair.”
“I can’t give up on my people and I need answers,” he said, as if defending his decision. “If someone is using the dragons, I have the opportunity to learn more.”
“The resistance will change bases, if they haven’t already, so don’t bother bringing your friends to visit.”
“I didn’t doubt it,” he said with a twist of his lips that didn’t quite look amused. “They’ll ask me about my time in captivity.”
“I didn’t doubt that.”
They put out the fire and set to work clearing the minimal space left for their blankets and bedrolls. It was the most luxury they’d had camping since Fox’s scheme to run away had dragged them both out here.
By the time she was tucking herself into the bedroll, her cloak draped over the other blankets, the air around her was icy, her breath showing in small puffs in the moonlit darkness. Fox’s bedroll rested against her own, no space in the clearing to move it farther.
She found herself turning toward him and a moment later, he did the same. He was buried in his bedroll and cloak, his pale face and hair showing starkly against the dark surroundings.
“I might not be able to remember everything.” His voice was loud in the darkness.
“What?”
“My superiors are going to want to know everything that happened out here—everything I saw and heard. But I might not be able to remember everything. Maybe I won’t even remember your name or face. It’s all been very traumatic.”
Sofia didn’t even know where she’d begin with telling Flor, Javi, and the others what had happened while she’d been gone—if Micael even gave her a chance before kicking her out of the cenote the moment she tried to enter.
After everything she’d been through, after discovering she’d been right about the dragons being alive, she was still in the same position she’d been in before she’d left. She had no job, no home, and no idea what to do.
“I’m still going to kill your father someday,” she said, “and the chief commander.” He didn’t respond immediately and she might have wondered if he’d fallen asleep if it weren’t for the glow of his silver eyes.
“And I’m going to find out who was responsible for the bombing that killed my brother, even if it’s one of your friends.”
“I know.”
A small voice in her mind told her that she could ask Micael when she got back. It was the least the old man could do before throwing her out of the resistance. But even if she did, what would she do with that information? Would she tell Fox, knowing he’d want to kill them? But didn’t he deserve to know? At least she had someone to blame.
She stayed silent, unable to make a promise she wasn’t sure she could follow through with. Fox turned over in his bedroll and she quickly followed suit, not wanting to be left staring at him as he slept.
Despite being more comfortable and warm than she had been in weeks, she couldn’t get her mind to shut off. Tomorrow and all of its unknowns loomed nearer and nearer with every beat of her heart and the night seemed to stretch out in front of her.
“Can you please stop fidgeting and fall asleep.” She had no idea how long it was before she heard Fox’s voice, rough with exhaustion from behind her.
“I’m trying,” she hissed back over her shoulder. “It’s cold.”
It was a stupid excuse. It was colder than it had been, but they’d slept in much more uncomfortable situations. The cold had nothing to do with the dread settling in her stomach.
Fox’s large hand wrapped around her waist and he pulled her back into him, the few inches of space between them disappearing in a second. His chest was warm and hard.
As she tried to focus on the rise and fall of his chest, she felt her mind spinning, thinking of Clarita, of the dragons, of Micael.
His breath was warm against her ear. “Stop thinking.”
“Easier said than done,” she said, voice just as soft, as if they were both afraid of shattering whatever they’d built in the darkness.
His hand ran softly along her arm, goosebumps rippling in its wake. He didn’t say anything even as she shifted farther into him. She was all too aware of the heat and hardness of his body at every point of contact between them, yet in that moment, it didn’t feel close enough.
Fox seemed to be thinking the same thing because a moment later, his hand shifted, running across the hem of her tunic and then under it, calluses brushing against soft skin as he pressed her closer.
His hand was a hot brand against her stomach and she bit her lip, trying to ignore her body’s reaction to him. His heat was a shocking contrast to the icy air around them, and she shifted, as if she might burrow into the warmth of him. The soft groan that slipped from his lips was so quiet, she wondered if she’d even heard it, but when she shifted again, she felt the rumble this time through his chest.
Her hips were notched perfectly with his, and she felt him growing harder behind her with every shift of her body. She should pull away. She didn’t want to.
“Sofia?” His voice was ragged as he continued to stroke the skin of her stomach, fingers brushing the underside of her breast.
“Yes?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.
“You should probably stop moving.” Even as he said it, his hand moved higher and his finger brushed across her nipple. It tightened painfully.
She swallowed hard before she answered, not wanting her own voice to quaver. “Probably.”
But, against every thought screaming through her brain, she rocked her hips back, pressing her ass against the hardness she felt there, savoring the groan that slipped from his lips once more. His hand cupped her breast, holding it roughly as he ground his hips back into hers, breath hitching in her hair. His nose traced along the sensitive skin behind her ear.
Her body was thrumming and for the first time in blinks, Sofia wasn’t thinking about consequences. She wasn’t focused on the rage and grief that had been nestled in her chest since the moment Mina had been dragged from the chief commander’s office.
She pushed her hips back into him, rotating them slowly when his breath hitched.
“If you don’t stop moving,” he said, voice a rough growl against her, “I’m going to have trouble controlling myself.”
She should pull away. The last thing they needed was to get physical entanglements involved. But then again, if all went to plan, they’d never see each other again after tomorrow. They’d go back to their separate worlds of trying to kill each other’s friends and be done with everything out here.
And gods, did she need to stop thinking? She didn’t want to worry about tomorrow. Or Micael. Or Clarita. Or who Fox’s father was. She wanted to feel.
“Then don’t control yourself.”
Like a flood released from a dam, Fox moved with surprising speed, flipping them with a single arm so Sofia was lying on her back, looking up at him. Even with the moons closing into their blink, they were still bright through the trees, caressing his face with their light. He leaned forward, eyes focused on her own and for a moment, she was afraid he would kiss her, but then his head ducked lower. His teeth scraped the skin of her neck as he licked his way down, pulling her shirt down to taste her skin.
When he reached the limit of how far the collar would go, he gave a grunt of frustration before grabbing the bottom hem and pulling it up, exposing her breasts to the cold air of the night. Before she could protest, his lips closed over her nipple, his hand coming up to cup her other. The heat of it had her forgetting about the icy night that surrounded them and most everything else. A groan slipped from her lips and he hummed against her skin, even as his tongue flicked across her nipple.
Of course, the Dereyan soldier with a body like his would also be skilled with his tongue. Life wasn’t fair.
“You’re still thinking,” he said, the words hot against her skin.
“Then stop talking,” she said, raking her nails down his back until she reached the hem of his shirt, pulling it off. She wanted to touch every inch of his skin. He didn’t protest, even as she ran her hands over his body, tracing the ink that wrapped across his chest.
His hands shifted, fingertips brushing across her back. Against one of her ridged scars. He stiffened, mouth opening.
“Don’t,” Sofia said, before he’d even drawn breath. She hated the way his gaze was shifting, cooling into something akin to pity. She reached between them, cupping his hardness and squeezing. “We’re not thinking, remember?” she said.
He stared at her for another moment, indecision in his eyes, but then she gripped him again, stroking him through his pants. The groan that escaped his throat made the decision for him, and he returned to running his tongue over the skin like he was trying to memorize the flavor of her. “If you don’t stop that,” he said, “this will be over too soon.”
Her core throbbed, heat radiating through her, but she released him, moving her hands to his hips and trying to pull him down to her. She wanted friction. She needed his body on hers. But he didn’t give it to her. He kept his arms and hips rigid, hovering just over her so their bodies didn’t touch. He switched his assault to her other breast, teeth nipping in a way that made Sofia’s breath stutter.
“Fox,” she said, hating herself for how his name tasted on her lips.
“Yes, my captor?” he said, the words hot against her skin.
“Move,” she said, attempting to pull him down once more so their hips would meet.
“I am moving,” he said, punctuating his words with a soft pinch to her breast.
“Not what I mean and you know it,” she half-growled.
“Patience.” The words were a murmur, but he finally released her nipple, lips and tongue tracing a path down her stomach and toward the band of her pants.
As his fingers came up to untie her pants, she let out a groan and placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“I usually take a tonic, but with our…trip.”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. He hadn’t moved his face from where it hovered over her stomach, silver eyes looking up through impossibly long lashes.
“There is plenty more fun to be had. Now stop talking.”
And she did, mouth snapping shut as he untied her pants with one hand and yanked them down along with her undergarments.
“Good girl,” he said, grinning up at her, his face between her exposed thighs. He ran a finger through her folds not breaking eye contact. “And already wet for a Dereyan bastard like me.”
“Shut up,” she ground out between clenched teeth, even as her core went molten.
He only smiled in his infuriatingly knowing way that had her tempted to clench her legs closed. But before she could dare, he was dipping down, his mouth moving over her core, and any thought was gone from her mind. Her awareness zeroed in on the sensation of his tongue and lips against her, every single hum and groan vibrating through her body. She grabbed at his hair, fingers running through the silky strands, unabashedly pressing him closer and he continued to devour her.
He didn’t complain, sending a long lick through her lips before she felt his fingers at her entrance, brushing gently. He looked up again as if asking for permission, but all she could do was let out a soft whine, shifting her hips forward. It was all he needed as a finger plunged into her.
“Gods,” she said, gasping as his finger went deeper, pumping and seeking. When he found what he was looking for, she let out a series of curses in dragon-tongue, his laugh vibrating through her.
He added a second finger, and she lost control of her body then, rocking and shuddering against him as he worked. When his lips found her clit and sucked, she shattered. She was only aware of his hand holding her legs open as her hips bucked, the flood of pleasure overwhelming every sense.
When she finally came down, he was holding her, soft lips pressed to her inner thigh. He looked up at her, his lips shining with her pleasure and eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
“This means nothing,” she said, practically panting the words out.
“Less than nothing,” he agreed with a kiss to her inner thigh, moving up to hover back over her once more. She hated how her eyes lingered on his lips, wanting to pull him forward and taste herself. Before she could wander farther down that path, she hooked a bare leg over his hips, using the skill she’d gained from fighting to flip them until she was straddling him. His eyes only widened for a single moment of surprise as he looked up at her.
“Can’t say I’ve been with a woman who could do that.”
She didn’t respond, shifting down his body as she loosened his pants, pulling them down only a few inches. She left his legs trapped there as his cock sprang free, and her jaw clenched at the sight. She had felt him enough times to know he wasn’t small, but seeing it was different. His legs shifted and he let out a groan of frustration at his inability to move. It made her smile and she finally broke her gaze away from his rigid length to see him looking up at her, eyes black as night. She wrapped a hand around the base of him, not breaking eye contact as she leaned down and ran her tongue up his cock. He smelled of wood and soil and tasted of salt and musk.
“Fuck,” he said, his words a hoarse groan. She smiled, happy to have switched the tides of power. She could have left him like this. Grabbed her pants and walked away now. But a part of her wanted this, too. She wanted the weight of him on her tongue. There was no tomorrow for them and she’d never been one to turn away good sex. So instead, she leaned down and wrapped her lips around his cock before taking him down completely.
His body jerked and his groan reverberated through his chest where her hand rested, but she didn’t stop. She licked and sucked, moving up and down his length, savoring his soft flavor. And if a sense of power thrummed through her with every twitch of his body, then so be it. When his hand came up to wrap in her hair, she stopped moving, teeth just grazing against the delicate skin of his cock until he released her.
“Fuck you,” he hissed out.
She didn’t respond, only increasing her pace. His hands clenched the blankets, his knuckles white. She hummed in satisfaction and swallowed around him as he cursed her with every swipe of her tongue.
When his hips stuttered beneath her and his hand flew back into her hair, she didn’t stop him. His touch was gentle, fingers flexing against her skull as if he were trying to stop himself from grabbing her. And then he came, his seed filling her mouth, salty on her tongue. She swallowed the best she could, but when some dribbled out, he pulled her up before she could wipe it away. His pupils were blown wide as he watched her tongue dart out to lick away the spilled seed.
His fingers were soft on the back of her neck and he didn’t remove them immediately, watching her—for what she didn’t know. He let go suddenly, as if realizing that he was still holding her.
She unhooked her legs from his, using the moonlight to find her pants and shuffle them back over her hips. The cold of the night was sinking back into her skin, the fine sheen of sweat there making it worse.
She didn’t know what she expected, but when she laid back down into her bedroll and pulled the blankets over her, Fox reached out and drew her back into him. They were back in the position that had started it all, his nose in her hair, warm breath moving her curls.
“Are you done thinking?” he said, his voice a whisper in the night.
“Yes,” she admitted.
He gave a small hum, as if proud of himself.
“That meant nothing.”
“I know, my captor. Now go to sleep,” Fox said, the words tickling her hair.
She closed her eyes and followed his advice. She pushed all thoughts of her friends and tomorrow from her mind and focused instead on her breathing, letting it fall into beat with Fox’s.
It worked, and she drifted into sleep a few minutes later.