31. That's what I thought
"I don't know what I want." The lie comes too easily.
"Liar." His hand hovers just above my throat.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." He tilts his head, studying me. "You're a terrible liar, your pulse gives you away."
"Maybe my pulse is racing because you're threatening me."
"Am I?" His fingers ghost along my neck, not quite touching. "We both know you're not afraid of me anymore."
I can't deny it.
"That doesn't mean anything."
"No?" He sounds almost amused. "Then tell me to stop."
I open my mouth. Close it. The words won't come.
His fingers hover closer. "That's what I thought."
"You're so sure of yourself."
"I'm sure of what I see." His gaze is so intense I have to remind myself to breathe. In. Out. Not because I'm afraid—I'm everything but afraid.
"Prove it." The words escape my mouth, barely a whisper, but definitely a challenge.
Something shifts in his expression. Not quite a smile. "You sure you're ready for that?"
His fingers find my throat, gentle but sure. Not hovering anymore—actually touching.
My pulse hammers against his palm.
"Tell me again. Do you want me to prove it?"
I can't speak at first.
"You want me to show you?" He presses his fingers slightly against my skin.
"Yes."
His thumb slides from my throat to the side of my neck, just below my jaw, tracing slow circles.
A small sound escapes me—something between a gasp and a sigh. My mouth opens, drawing in deep breaths. Trying to calm down, but my heartbeat picks up immediately.
"There," he murmurs, satisfaction in his voice. His thumb follows the line of my throat down. "Here." Then to my wrist, his grip circling it completely. "And here. Every place where your blood runs close to the surface."
Heat pools low in my stomach.
He looks at me, considering. "I wonder how you'd react if I used my mouth instead."
"Communicator."
The voice comes from far away.
"Wake up." Urgent now. A hand on my shoulder, shaking gently.
No. Not yet. I want—
"Now. We need to move."
My eyes snap open to darkness. The damp smell of earth and stone brings me back—we're in the underground hideout and it's cold.
He's crouched beside me, one hand still on my shoulder. Even in the dim light, I can see concern etched across his features.
"You were..." He pauses, and I realize with horror that I must have been making sounds in my sleep. "Having a nightmare?"
"I—yes. A nightmare." The lie comes automatically because what else can I say? That I was dreaming about him? About his hands on my—
"Your heart's racing." His voice is carefully neutral, but something flickers in his eyes.
I push myself up on my elbows, needing distance. Even before I opened my mouth, I could feel the heat creeping into my cheeks.
God, I'm such a bad liar. I angle my face away, hoping he won't notice.
"What exactly were you dreaming about?" he asks, studying me.
"Oh you know, just..." I don't finish the sentence, but when I look up he's completely focused on my face now, eyebrows furrowed a little, looking suddenly very intrigued.
"Just what?" He leans closer.
I can't even look at him now.
"Miller," I blurt out.
His expression darkens instantly, jaw clenching.
"We need to move." His voice has gone flat.
"What? Now? Did something—"
"They're gone."
I sit up properly. "How do you know? I didn't hear anything."
His mouth twitches, almost a smile. "Different hearing range. Remember?"
Right. Of course. I rub my eyes, trying to fully wake up. The stranger is still slumped against the far wall, breathing steadily now. At least he looks better than before.
"What about him?" I gesture toward the injured wolf.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Mera will come for him."
My stomach drops. "Mera? But he's—" I glance at the stranger, remembering how feral he seemed, how he attacked in the darkness. "What if he hurts her? He doesn't seem... stable."
"He won't touch her." His voice carries absolute certainty. "She's a healer. Even wolves like him know better than to harm a healer."
I'm not convinced. "But—"
"She's helped wolves in worse states than him." He stands, offering me his hand. "Trust me."
I take it, letting him pull me up. My legs protest after sleeping on the hard ground, and I stumble slightly. His other hand catches my elbow, steadying me.
"Careful," he murmurs, not letting go until I'm stable.
The stranger's eyes open then, tracking our movements. Despite his injuries, there's something sharp in his gaze as it moves between us.
"Leaving already?" His voice is rough but stronger than before.
"The patrol's moved on," he replies, already gathering what few supplies we brought.
The stranger's attention shifts to me, and something knowing crosses his face. "You're going to be so much trouble for him."
I freeze. "What?"
But he just closes his eyes again, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Nothing. Just an observation."
I want to ask what he means, but the leader is already turning away, moving toward the entrance to check outside. His shoulders are tense, head tilted as he listens for something I can't hear.
"Ready?" he asks without looking back.
"I—yes."
He moves to help me up through the entrance first. As I reach for the opening, his hands find my waist, lifting me easily. The casual strength in the gesture makes my breath catch.
"Watch the edge," he says, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary before I pull myself up.
The forest is still dark, but hints of dawn touch the eastern sky. Fresh air fills my lungs. I hear him climbing up behind me, then his hand finds mine again.
"This way." He starts forward, then pauses, glancing back at me. "Tell me if you need to stop."
"I'm fine."
"That's what you said before you nearly collapsed."
"I was tired. I slept. I'm fine now."
He studies me for a moment, and I get the feeling he's listening to more than just my words. Maybe my heartbeat, which has definitely picked up under his scrutiny.
"The headache?"
I touch my temple automatically. "Better. The pills helped."