16. Cato
Cato
Smoke curls into the morning air, advertising our location to every fucking beast and person within miles.
The fire crackles and hisses as fresh snowflakes fall into the flames, and the smell of cooking meat fills my nose as I inhale.
It should make me hungry for my first hot meal in days, but my stomach twists as I glance down at Aryn.
Taryn tracked down the lichen he described in his delirium.
Cameron helped grind it into a poultice while Ronan and Lillith swept the woods for any lingering predators.
When they returned with nothing but carcasses, they skewered them over the fire.
Waste not, want not, even when the meat comes from something that tried to eat your face.
Taryn cleaned Aryn’s wounds, and I couldn’t do anything but stare as she sewed a dozen or more stitches onto his skin. Every warning I received about lacking in first aid hit me at once, and I realized how fucked he would’ve been if the two of us had been alone.
The thought nearly made me puke.
Once Taryn packed the poultice in place and wrapped the bandage, we propped him up and forced the tea down his throat.
Most of it spilled down his chin and chest, but he swallowed a few mouthfuls before slipping into unconsciousness again.
Now he’s bundled inside his sleeping bag, while I tucked mine on top of him for extra warmth.
He’s so thoroughly wrapped in layers that only the top of his face is visible.
Firelight dances across his cheekbones, and the knot in my chest loosens when I realize he’s stopped shivering. Ronan swears the antidote will do its job, and that between the plants and Aryn’s ability to heal, he’ll be back on his feet by lunchtime.
I curse quietly and push the needle through the thick hide of his torn coat, using the repair to keep my hands busy and my thoughts from spiraling. Someone drops onto the log beside me, and I glance over to find Cameron sitting there, hands twisted in his lap.
“You alright?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he answers, eyes fixed on Aryn. “It just… this made it real, you know? That we’re actually here.”
“The freezing weather and fucked-up sky didn’t manage that for you?”
He huffs a short laugh and shrugs. “They did. But all the stories Ronan told me about this place sounded… romanticized. He remembered the good things and left out the part where everything here wants us dead.”
“It’s a world that wasn’t built for us, Cameron. We’re just parasites trying to survive in it.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He pauses, watching Aryn’s slow, even breathing. “Aryn is… he’s strong, you know? Seeing him go down makes me feel like I don’t stand a chance.”
“Ronan won’t let anything happen to you,” I say as my gaze drifts back to Aryn’s face, relieved to see color creeping back into his cheeks.
“I mean, yeah, he’ll try to keep me safe, but like… what if that had been me out there? What if Ronan had to protect me and got hurt in the process?”
A pang of guilt cramps my gut until I’m sure something inside me must split open.
“That’s what Aryn was doing. He was protecting me.
” Cameron glances at me curiously, and I wave toward the forest as I continue.
“Those cat things were after me, not him. Hells, the only reason we were even out there is because I heard something, and I dragged Aryn out of bed to look with me. We found footprints, but he didn’t want to stray too far from camp.
I turned my back on the forest like an idiot.
” I push the needle through another loop, stabbing harder than necessary.
“It was an amateur move. I know better than that. You never give the enemy your back. If I hadn’t—”
“Don’t start piling on the martyrdom now,” Cameron cuts in. “You don’t get to play human savior of the worlds and throw yourself on the sword for it.”
I give him a weak smile, then glance down at where Aryn’s tail has once again looped around my ankle.
No matter how many times I tuck it back under the sleeping bag, it finds its way out again.
“He pulled me out of the way. The thing was going straight for my back, and if he hadn’t been paying attention, it would’ve gotten me.
I would’ve been dead before he could pry it off, and then he would’ve been alone with the rest of the pack. ”
“I could’ve taken them,” Aryn mumbles from the ground. His eyes are barely open, and his voice is so rough it sounds like someone poured sand down his throat, but he’s awake.
“And steal my glory?” I ask, trying to cover the wave of relief that hits me. “I don’t think so.”
He groans as he tries to push himself up. I drop his coat and crouch beside him, sliding an arm behind his back to help him sit. Sweat beads across his skin, and strands of hair cling to his forehead and neck. He winces as he finds his balance, carefully rotating his injured shoulder.
His eyes drop to the thick bandages covering the wound, flick to the sewing kit I abandoned, then rise to my face. “Please tell me you didn’t stitch me up.”
A loud, surprised laugh escapes me as I hand him a canteen.
He nods his thanks and lifts it, taking long, deep swallows of water.
“Hey, take it easy,” I warn, gently pulling the canteen away when he doesn’t slow down.
Water drips down his chin, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand and shoots me a half-hearted glare.
Taryn notices he’s awake and crouches on his other side, giving my makeshift repairs on his coat a wary glance. “Don’t worry, Cato only paced like a caged animal while I handled the stitching. They should heal cleanly with minimal scarring.”
“You found the lichen?” Aryn asks.
She nods toward an overflowing pile of the mossy plants. “We did. We weren’t sure how many doses you’d need, or if we might need it again”—she cringes at the thought—“so we gathered as much as we could find.”
“The antidote works quickly,” he says, stretching his limbs and testing his range of motion. “We’ll keep applying it to the wounds while they’re open, and a few more doses of the tea won’t hurt. But we’re in the clear now.”
I sit back on the log, letting out a long breath as Taryn finishes checking his bandages then slips away to make more tea. Cameron has wandered off too, leaving the two of us by the fire. Aryn stays quiet for a long moment, watching the flames.
“I heard what you said earlier,” he admits. “This wasn’t your fault, Cato.”
“If we hadn’t gone into the woods—”
“Then maybe they would’ve attacked the whole camp,” he interrupts, voice insistent despite the lingering hoarseness. “You did the right thing by coming to get me. I know you’ve always handled everything on your own, but you’re not alone here.”
I nod, idly kicking my toe through the dirt. “I, uh… cleaned the blood off your jacket and sewed the holes closed. It’s not the prettiest work, but it felt like the least I could do.”
Something brushes my foot, and we both glance down to find Aryn’s tail curled around my ankle again. He jerks it back, shaking his head with an embarrassed huff of laughter.
“Sorry. It… gets a mind of its own sometimes.”
“A simple ‘thanks’ would’ve been plenty,” I say, lips twitching as I pull his coat into my lap. “No need to wag your tail like an excited dog.”
He watches me quietly while I finish the last of my—admittedly crooked—stitches and check the hide for any tears I might’ve missed.
“How long was I out?” he asks.
“A few hours.”
He nods and stretches his hands toward the fire, soaking in the heat. “We need to get moving. This fire is basically a welcome mat for anything else hunting in the area.”
“The overgrown cats aren’t coming back anytime soon. Their leader is currently skewered over the flames. He’ll make a delicious breakfast.”
“While I’m sure that’s true, I’m not worried about the khraelyx.” He gestures at the thick column of smoke rising into the sky. “If there are any villages or camps nearby, the locals will want to know who’s trespassing in their territory. We don’t know anything about who lives here.”
“Fair enough,” I concede, “but you’re not going anywhere until you’ve got your strength back.”
“I’m fine,” he insists, pushing to his feet as if he needs to prove it. His eyes glaze over almost immediately, and I scramble up to steady him, guiding him against my chest. He rests his forehead on my shoulder, limbs trembling as he fights through the dizziness.
“Yeah, you look really fine. Ready to take on the whole damn world.”
“Shut up,” he mumbles, pulling back just enough to tilt his face toward mine.
He’s a complete mess right now—far from his usual composed, put-together self.
Hair sticks to his damp skin in wild strands, and one sharp fang presses into his lower lip as he chews on it.
My gaze lingers there before I realize my arm has slipped around his waist.
I clear my throat and give my head a small shake to clear the tension. “You steady?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” he says with a wince, stepping back.
His eyes stay locked on mine for a beat longer, like he’s shaking off the closeness too, until his hand drifts absently to his neck and his calm vanishes.
“My necklace,” he demands, voice edged with something close to panic. “Where is my necklace?”
“I have it,” I answer, fishing it from my pocket and handing it over.
He snatches the chain and closes his eyes, squeezing the ring that hangs from it tightly in his palm. “Thank you.”
“That’s important to you.”
It isn’t really a question, but he nods anyway as he slips it back over his head. “It’s the only thing I have left of my family. It’s… what got me through everything that happened.”
Whatever that ring means to him, it’s obvious he isn’t ready to share the full story. My gaze drifts down his bare torso again, catching on those piercings. Tiny goosebumps rise across his skin while his nipples tighten in the cold. Something hot and entirely unwelcome coils low in my gut.
“Can you put a shirt on?” I blurt.
His brows draw together as he looks back at me. “Sorry?”
Heat floods my face, and for once I’m grateful for the biting cold that already has my skin flushed.
I force my tone lighter and nod toward his chest. “It’s freezing out here.
If you catch pneumonia because you’re determined to stand around half-naked, you’re only going to slow the rest of us down. Again.”
“Damn, that sympathy didn’t last long, did it?
” he says as he shoots me an exasperated glance, then digs through his pack for clean shirts.
He tugs on an undershirt and thicker sweater over it, but winces as his shoulder shifts.
When I lift his coat and hold it out for him, he wrinkles his nose, obviously frustrated at needing the help.
“Stop being so stubborn,” I mutter, guiding his injured arm carefully into the sleeve.
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” he replies. His tail snakes up my leg again and wraps around my wrist before he yanks it back with an embarrassed grunt. “Sorry, it—”
“Has a mind of its own,” I finish with a wink. “And apparently it likes me.”
“Gods,” he groans, turning toward the fire.
“It’s alright, darlin’. I’m a pretty likeable guy.”
“You’re an infuriating guy,” he corrects.
“Why don’t we ask your tail what it thinks about me?”
He decides ignoring me is the wiser choice and doesn’t respond. He fishes a leather band from his coat pocket and tries to gather his hair, but another pained wince crosses his face as he lifts his arms.
I catch his wrists gently and pull them down. “Sit,” I say, nodding at the nearby rock.
“Why?”
I let out an impatient breath. “Would you sit down and let me do it?”
He reluctantly obeys, watching me warily as I move behind him and peel off my gloves. My fingers slide through his hair, and he releases a quiet, indulgent sound as I work the strands back. Some knots resist, but I separate them as carefully as I can without pulling too hard.
Once I have his hair gathered into a decent ponytail, I give it a light tug.
Instead of handing me the tie, he tilts his face up toward me.
Those once-alien eyes are familiar now, and when he blinks, his long lashes cast soft shadows across his cheekbones.
My gaze drops unbidden to his mouth, wondering how those prominent fangs would feel against my tongue.
When the hell did I start wondering that?
“Cato?”
I nearly fumble with the hair I’ve gathered as his voice snaps me out of it. “Can you, uh… pass me the hair tie?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” he says before pressing it into my hand.
I force myself back into the moment as I loop it around his thick raven strands. We just survived something traumatic together. It’s natural to feel this close right now.
It doesn’t mean anything.
Footsteps crunch through the snow, and we both look over to see Ronan approaching. His gaze tracks along my arm, lingering on the way I’m still holding Aryn’s hair. I drop it like it burned me.
Ronan’s brows rise slightly, but his voice stays even. “How are you feeling?”
“A lot better, thank you,” Aryn says before he pushes to his feet. I hover close, ready to catch him if needed. “Did you really slap me, or was that a fever dream?”
I laugh, but Ronan only crosses his arms and scoffs. “A simple ‘thank you for saving my life’ would be nice.”
Aryn’s lips twitch with amusement. “I appreciate the quick thinking. The antidote works fast. After some food and water, I should be strong enough to travel again.”
“Are you sure that’s smart?” I ask.
Aryn gestures toward the crackling fire. “It’s been burning long enough that the smoke has almost certainly been spotted. We need to put distance between us and it sooner rather than later.”
“He’s right,” Ronan agrees. “We’ll eat a solid meal from the meat and pack up the rest. I’d like us moving again in the next couple of hours, if you’re up for it.”
Aryn nods. “I’ll be fine.”
Taryn and Cameron portion out the food, and now that the immediate danger has passed, my appetite returns full force. The khraelyx meat is tough from all that lean muscle, but the fat still drips down my fingers with every bite.
Aryn leans closer, licking his own fingers clean. “Does the vengeance make it taste better or worse?”
I grin around another large mouthful. “Definitely better.”