Chapter 8
The next morning, I woke to sunlight streaming across my face, tickling at my eyes, my hand gripping a dagger under my pillow only mildly cramping. The wooden pallet I was on was hardly comfortable and yet I’d slept on worse and for what it was worth felt relatively well rested.
Lucky had replaced my pack with an extra they had, and had replaced a few pieces of clothing, and a few other basics—fire starter, canteen, a few linens for wounds.
I slid the pack over my shoulder and stepped out of the cabin—the one with the foliage straight through the roof. At least it hadn’t rained overnight.
The jeep was still parked in the middle of the ring of cabins, and now that the light was better, I took note of three other vehicles. Two dirt bikes and a larger truck with a big bed.
I made my way over to them, wondering how they kept them fueled up.
The mixture for running vehicles was dicey on a good day.
Lucky had explained that it was a blend of magic and petrol made from whatever you could find.
Though they did have a witch, so there was that.
And Veyyr…of course. Though his magic…felt different than Isla’s. More instinctual, less formal.
The footsteps behind me were light, quiet, but whoever was coming toward me was not trying to be sneaky.
A rustle of cloth and I turned my head just enough to see a young man standing about ten feet behind me, his hands shoved into his pockets.
Lean body, about six feet tall, and was probably late teens.
Or very early twenties. His brown hair was flecked with blond, and those dark brown eyes held a great deal of heart in them—the world had not broken him yet, which was amazing.
He grinned and showed off a couple of crooked eye teeth.
I had no idea who he was. Despite feeding me, Lucky had kept me clear of the rest of the crew, and I knew why. Just in case Veyyr followed through with tossing me out.
“Fancy, huh?”
I ran a hand over the stitched-up seat of one bike. “Nice. Do they all run?”
“Yeah, Isla has a pretty wicked blend she does for the fuel. Keeps them going way longer than other vehicles.” He didn’t step closer. “I’m Harrison.”
“Mallory.”
“Do your friends call you Mal?”
It was a good question. “No idea.”
“You…really killed a sagryl and saved a veilrunner with my brother?”
I took a moment to absorb that. “Well, if Veyyr is your brother, then yes. Do you have magic like him?” And a shitty attitude?
Harrison shook his head and his hair fell into his eyes. “Nah, I took after our dad more. He took after mom. Kind of split the deal, you know?”
I didn’t know, but I nodded anyway. “You allowed to talk to me?”
His grin faltered. “You heard him yelling last night?”
“No, but I’m guessing Isla shadowed the sound?” A witch’s trick to muffle shouting. How the hell did I know that? Didn’t matter, Harrison followed my question easily.
“Yeah, she…oh, shit.” He backed away from me, and I turned to see Isla, and two other men approaching from the forest. Was he afraid of her? Seemed odd if she was fucking his brother.
Then again, that was an assumption. Her clothing was the same as the night before. I’d wondered if maybe I’d just caught her on laundry day and she’d had nothing else. Or maybe she had a dozen of the exact same dress? That felt more likely. She could have made them all with a single yard of fabric.
“Good morning, Witch.”
Gods fucking damn it that was not any better than the night before, idiot. Rein it in, Mallory.
Isla swept past me like I didn’t exist. “Dave, Egan, pack us up. We’re leaving for our next stop as soon as the Veyyr is awake.”
The Veyyr? Was it his name or a title? Both?
Dave and Egan did as they were told, gathering supplies and stacking them into the bed of the truck. Isla’s eyes flitted to Harrison. “Do try to make yourself useful.”
He ducked his head and went to help the other two men, loading the truck, his eyes drifting back to me.
“You.” She snapped her fingers at me, but no magic came from her. “You, are not coming with us.”
I leaned against the bigger of the two bikes and just shrugged, erring on the side of caution for the moment. Waiting. Sorrow perched on top of the cabin we’d slept in, but he was quiet this morning. Waiting, the same as me.
Lucky came out next, stretching and yawning, scratching at things and places he really should have done in private.
His shirt today was brilliant green and far too tight. I could see his nipple rings easily through the over stretched material. But the words. I just shook my head. “Seriously?”
He grinned and pointed to each word.
“Fight me. Fuck me. Feed me.”
No doubt he would take it all in that order.
Yawning, he looked around. “Why we packing up?”
“Because I said so.” Isla sniffed and glared at me. Her head was still fully wrapped in the translucent black material, so I had no idea what color her hair was. Red maybe? She was extra spicy, it would fit.
I held up both hands slowly. “I never said you couldn’t pack.” And if Veyyr would answer me, then I would leave—gladly. Okay, I’d miss the popcorn, but otherwise, this group was its own kind of trouble.
I could feel it brewing under my skin.
On cue, the leader of the group strode out of the main cabin. His hood was thrown back and the sun caught on his hair, his tattoos crawled across the one side of his neck and even into his hairline.
He at least was dressed for the world at large with his dark brown army style pants, long sleeved shirt, and then his black cloak that flowed around him more like water than cloth.
“Why are you packing?” He growled at Harrison, grabbing his younger brother, stopping him mid-toss of a sack into the truck. Harrison motioned at Isla with a tip of his head.
Isla stiffened and flicked a hand toward me, making me tense. “I thought it best, to put distance between us and…that one.”
I forced myself to relax, smiled and straddled the bike. “I have that effect on people. I’m all good, if you want to answer my questions, I’ll scamper right off.” I wiggled my fingers as if they were running away.
Veyyr never looked at Isla as he strode toward me. “A chat would be good.”
When he got close enough that he could have grabbed me, and the intent was there, he paused and motioned for me to walk with him.
Away from camp, back into a section of forest that blocked the cabins from view and far enough away that no one would hear us kill each other. Only then did he speak, circling around me like a predator.
“Tell me what you know of yourself.”
I kept my body still, but loose and ready. Despite the strange and dangerous way we’d met, the bonding that happened when two survivors helped one another wasn’t there. Not like it had been with Dakota and Red.
The question was, would he truly answer me? I pulled the ID tag up out from under my shirt, and slipped it over my head, and dropped it into his outstretched hand. “I had this in my pocket when I climbed out of the Rift. No memories.”
He flipped it over, reading it quickly. “You climbed…out of a Rift?”
I nodded. “Barefoot no less.”
“Anything else?”
“I think I’m married.” I held up my left hand and saw his eyes narrow on the simple band. “There are dates on the ring, two birthdays and a wedding date.”
Veyyr took my hand, capturing it before I could pull away. He rolled my hand so he could get a better look at it. “Agreed, these are dates of some sort. But I wouldn’t guarantee a marriage. Not with that mouth of yours. Or your propensity for violence. More likely you killed your man.”
I snorted and tried to pull my hand away.
He didn’t let go of my hand, but instead flipped it over, palm out.
I stared at him, feeling every spot where his fingers pressed against my skin.
Every point where his fingers put pressure against mine lit up, heat running through me like a fuse.
My brain screamed to yank free. My body wanted to stay.
A warning lit up in the back of my head. This was a moment that would change the trajectory of my life even, if I didn’t understand how or why.
I managed to keep my mouth shut.
“What, no smart-ass answer?”
“I was going to say that some men like it rough, but you might get the wrong idea.”
So much for keeping my mouth shut.
He still hadn’t let go of my hand and he didn’t react to my sass. “So, you’re looking for your…husband? Mate?”
Those wolfy blue eyes had me locked in and I couldn’t so much as glance away, unsure if I even wanted to look away. “Seems reasonable, don’t you think?”
“Hmm. Maybe he tried to have you killed.”
“Also, reasonable.”
His lips quirked upward, just a flash that I could have said I’d imagined.
He shook his head, his fingers roaming my hand, as if he were searching for something.
“Fuck. You are trouble, Mal. Big trouble, you know that right? If we take you on, the risk is going to be…well it might be worth the reward. Assuming you don’t kill us all in our sleep.
Or I don’t have to kill you on principal alone. ”
What I knew was that I still hadn’t gotten my answers and that he was talking in circles. “I shot you in the hand yesterday, Veyyr, I knew you would heal. How do I know you so well, can you tell me that? Even if you weren’t lying about knowing me, I know you. And I know you’re lying.”
His eyes roamed my face, searching for…what I didn’t know.
“You think you know me?” The air around us crackled, his magic calling to the electrical currents.
“If that was true, you would be running from me, Mal, running for your life.” He twisted my hand suddenly, putting me to my knees, the pain sharp, stealing my breath but I refused to give him the satisfaction.
Refused to let him keep me on my knees. “But seeing as you want to stay, then we do this my way.”
Fuck him, he wanted it to get rough?
So fucking be it.