Chapter 48 - Kali #3
Gripping fistfuls of his hair, I playfully tugged on them. “Yes.”
“But we’re out of tomato sauce.” He kissed my inner forearm, and his tongue tickled the same spot. “I need something I can lick off you.”
Now it was my turn to snort. “Then you’ll have to come up with something else. Breakfast is my price.”
With his head tipped back, he studied the flaking paint on the ceiling. “Pancakes?”
I yanked on his hair to bring his gaze back to me. “You know how to make pancakes?”
He grinned. “My father taught me.”
“You never told me!”
“What is taking so long?” Gedeon appeared in the doorway. His voice lowered as he noted my legs and the shreds of red-speckled gauze. “Are you hurt?”
“No. And I am not doing this again.” I pushed past him to the bedroom.
“I got scratched up getting out of the chair you’d restrained me in, and before you say anything, it’s fine.
It’s not a big deal, and Zion already examined them, and I don’t want to go have this conversation a second time, so please believe me when I say it’s fine. ”
Rummaging in my backpack, I glanced back at them, frozen at the sight of me bent over, my bare ass in the air, everything on display, and snickered.
So easily distracted. Finally finding what I needed, I pulled on a pair of long socks, and continued my tirade, “Plus, he is making me pancakes tomorrow morning as an apology, so don’t you dare say a word if you want me to leave any for you.
” I reached back inside my backpack and wiggled on a pair of cotton shorts, or more like what I pretended they were—
“Is that my underwear?” Gedeon asked, thawing from gaping at me like a statue. “Once we return, I’m taking you to Eislyn to examine your ankles.”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what Zion did to my clothes.
There was no chance in hell I was wearing his.
” I squeezed myself into a pair of Jayla’s bright pink pajama pants and a matching sweater.
Yup, not my style. But better than walking around naked.
“And Eislyn won’t be necessary. It’s truly fine.
Or does the word hold no meaning to you? ”
“You don’t have to wear anything,” Zion assured, packing up my stuff littering the floor by haphazardly stuffing everything into my backpack. “At all.”
That was exactly why I’d donned Jayla’s vivid pajamas.
“How did you deal with him all this time?” I asked Gedeon, as he handed me my leather boots and lowered on the bed to lace them up.
“He didn’t.” Zion strode toward the bedroom door. “Not that I would have been opposed.”
I rushed after him and blocked the doorway to prevent either of them from leaving, my boots unlaced. How I hadn’t tripped had to be the highlight of my luck. “You still haven’t answered my previous question. How did you know I was here?”
Zion shrugged. “Damia left a message.”
I thought I could trust the woman.
“We would have done the same in her place.” Gedeon caught my hips and gave a small push. “Let’s go.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Gripping the door frame, I widened my feet, rooting myself in place. I had to talk to Damia and emphasize how wrong this was.
“I would and I will.” He firmly but gently shoved me backward.
I refused to budge from the doorway. “That’s a betrayal of their trust, Gedeon.”
“Call it what you want.” He bent over, and the next thing I knew, I was staring at his lower back. He’d thrown me over his shoulder. “But you take care of what is yours.”
I punched his ass to put me down. “At least let me say goodbye to Malaya and Jayla. I can’t leave without letting them know.”
“You did exactly that with us. I hope you learned your lesson about your place, or your collar is going back on your neck.”
His threat instantly stirred my wish to do whatever it took to get my collar back. Because that night… I kind of hoped for a repeat. And more. For that strip of leather to be used both as a leash and a whip, and maybe not just on me.
Gedeon carried me out of the building, lowered me down in front of their beat-up car—probably his, based on the shiny coat of black paint—and opened the door. At least this one had a roof and windows. “Get in. We are going home.”
I climbed into the backseat with Zion, shivering from the night’s chill rising the tiny hairs on my arms and wishing I’d put on a jacket to ward off the cold.
With the engine rumbling smoothly, Gedeon navigated the streets out of Damia’s compound, speeding up once we were out in the open.
Trees rushed past us in a blur, veiled by the darkness furling around the leafless branches.
It reminded me of home.
Where they had left me. Alone.
Where my fears had consumed me.
Where the ground under my feet had cracked open and swallowed me whole.
Fiddling with the seat belt, I asked, “Why did you leave me?”
Gedeon’s hands flexed on the steering wheel. “Because I could not risk you.”
“But you could Zion.”
“It’s not the same.”
Zion’s knee bumped into mine. “I can take care of myself. I’m not saying you can’t, but combat is not exactly in your skill set.”
“I got your tattoo”—I yanked back the sleeve of my pink sweater—“because of trust. To stand as your equal. Not more, not less. My life is my right, even if it means giving it up for what I believe in. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have to wait while you risk your lives?
It sucks. I might have said I’m yours, but if you think I’m going to sit in a corner with my mouth shut, you’re wrong.
I can’t be with someone who refuses to listen to me. I won’t be.”
Turning in his seat, Gedeon squeezed my knee. “We had to make sure you were safe. That will always be my priority.”
My fists curled in my lap. “That’s not a good enough reason. War is coming, and I won’t remain safe. None of us will. You must understand that. People will die. Zion might die. I might die. You won’t be able to protect everyone. Can you accept and live with that?”
He didn’t respond, focused on the headlights illuminating the asphalt as we raced down the endless road.
I had to get through to him. I had to talk him into risking mine and Zion’s lives. Everyone’s lives. We were living at the threshold of war, and I was determined to ensure we emerged victorious.
The question was, would I need to sacrifice the king to conquer the land?
And if I did, what would remain of me?