Chapter 5 #2
Scarlen went back to her cards, worried he could spot her lies. ‘I wanted to talk to you about your friend Oxley.’
‘What about him?’
‘He gave me his spoon.’
Bear nodded. ‘I was told.’
‘Look, I’m not sure how this claiming thing works, but your friends don’t need to help me like that. All it did was make me feel awful that he spent hours locked in the pillory. Tell him thank you, but not to help me again. I can navigate my way here by myself.’
‘He’s just a big softy. Likes helping the vulnerable.’
She saw his mouth quirk. ‘I’m not vulnerable.’ Not as Scarlen Smithson, anyway. It was quite nice being someone else for a while, even if that person was a criminal serving time in prison with people who once tried to kidnap her.
‘You’re stuck with us now, but still, it won’t be long before we go our separate ways. Meanwhile, I’ll tell Ox to let you sort your own messes in future.’
Sounded a little cold, but it was what she had asked for, so she bobbed her head and picked up another card. ‘Ooh, I have a set.’
‘Place it down then. One more and you’re the winner.’
She’d never felt much of a winner before. Some would say she was lucky to grow up in a palace. To have never known starvation, but she did know it, thanks to her father’s games, or whatever they were.
‘You know, you often look sad.’
She jolted at his words but remained focused on finding another set. ‘Everyone looks sad in here. Can’t think why.’
A rumble of a hushed laugh moved his chest, and her traitorous eyes scanned over the curves of his solid muscles.
He could have put a sweatshirt on to cover his arms. She was fully covered in her tracksuit, and feeling the heat, as the room was quite muggy.
Next time she would wear a t-shirt like him. Next time?
‘How often are we supposed to come in here?’
He placed down a set. ‘It’s once a week, so that much. But the tuck shop is open for business once a month during this time, so some people only spend half hour in family time, then the rest queuing at the shop.’
She didn’t mean to wrinkle her nose, and the action had made his brow rise. ‘I, erm …’
‘You’d rather be out in the yard during this time?’
‘Or outside with some of the families, talking.’
‘We’d have to put on a show for them.’ His grin was slight. ‘Hold hands.’
Scarlen recoiled. Just the thought of touching him in such a way stirred things that had no business stirring. Trying for a subject change, she stole a glance his way, then asked, ‘Do you have any questions for me?’
‘Nope.’ He slammed down his second set. ‘Winner.’
She wasn’t sure what irritated her more: the fact he had won the game or that he didn’t want to know anything about her. ‘So what exactly do you win?’
‘Nothing. We’re playing for fun.’ He smiled, a flash of mischief in his gaze. ‘Unless there’s something you want to gift me.’
Folding her arms tightly was her answer. ‘Another game?’
‘Why not?’
Scarlen wasn’t sure if time sped up or slowed, it was such a blur playing cards with him and somewhat surreal, and it wasn’t until a bang on the door came, calling time, that she felt herself fully wake to her situation.
‘Stand up, Smithson. I need to sort you.’ He put the cards away in his pocket, then turned to her.
‘What do you mean?’ Standing as ordered before asking, she glanced over herself.
Bear looked her over, his mouth twisting to one side as he hummed. ‘Do you have anything on under that sweatshirt?’
‘Mind your own business.’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘You need to look ruffled. You know, hot and dishevelled.’
‘Why?’
He leaned close to her face. ‘Because I’ve just devoured you.’
And what might that feel like? ‘Erm, I could scruff my hair.’
‘Here, let me.’ His large hands gently pulled some silver tendrils free of her plait, releasing goosebumps along with the hair. She was picking up on a scent from him now. All raw spice and trouble. ‘I do have a question for you.’
‘Oh?’
He lifted the tip of her braid, his gaze deep. ‘I still don’t know who cut your hair, but I know they took the black tip. So why is it black again?’
‘The healer I was sent to as a child said it was a pigment disorder. It doesn’t matter how often my hair is cut, the tips will always blacken within a week.
’ A memory hit, making her laugh. ‘A close friend of mine has red hair, and we tried to dye mine the same once, but as soon as it came to washing out the dye, my hair stayed this colour.’ Zana had been more shocked than her. ‘So this is it for me.’
He twiddled the bottom of her plait, then let go. ‘Erm, pull your sleeves up and pinch your cheeks. That should help.’
She did while he tugged off his top and casually slung it over his shoulder, which came as a surprise, and she was so glad he was facing the door, because after that act, she didn’t need to pinch her cheeks to make herself look flushed.
The solid muscles in his back alone raised enough heat to warm her from head to toe.
‘Ready?’ There was a slight sultry grin as he glanced her way, reaching for her hand, and Scarlen froze for a second to gather her thoughts.
‘Do we have to hold hands?’
He lowered his arm. ‘Nope, but when we go our separate ways, it will look good if I kiss you.’
Something hard lodged in her throat, causing all sorts of breathing problems.
‘Don’t sweat it, Smithson, I’ll aim for your cheek. It’ll look sweet. Besides, I can see your lip hasn’t healed yet. Kylar got you good, eh?’
Was he pleased about that? She couldn’t be certain. Trying for casual, she nodded, already sure she could feel his lips pressed against her skin, as something was making her tingle all over. Probably rage from Kylar being mentioned.
Bear opened the door, placed his hand in the small of her back as she passed, then walked with her to the guard at the door.
‘Smithson, off to the silent system,’ said Miss Goolan, looking bored.
The achy limbs made themselves known once more as Scarlen sighed on the inside at what was to come. Oh well, she’d had a nice rest.
Bear did as he had promised and lightly placed a kiss on her cheek, making their intimacy look real.
It certainly felt real enough, but that would never do.
He was her enemy, not friend or fake lover, but to feel someone’s lips brush against her in such a cold and dismal environment brought life to every fibre of her being, and just for that moment, she wanted to pretend someone did love her.
She watched him put his top back on as he strode away. No words or backward glances, and without her permission she missed his company already.
‘Smithson, move.’
Scarlen remembered Miss Goolan was observing her, so she headed off to face her other enemy: the wheel of fucking doom.