“That plant should have rendered you unconscious,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “If my kind had taken it in, it would have.”
“Well, that soundsboring,” I replied, emphasizing the word boring. “This is much more fun.”
That earned me a long look as though he were seeing me properly for the first time. Not as a bargaining chip… oh chips and dip, now that was the midnight snack of champions… er… where was I? Not being thought of as a complication. But as an innocent human mixed up in a world I didn’t know. I was an enigma he had not accounted for, and Theron didn’t seem like a man who enjoyed dealing with the unknown… oh well, then this should be fun.
Without warning, he bent and set me gently on my feet. I swayed immediately, the world tilting sideways in a way that made me laugh before I could stop myself, my hands shooting out to catch at his arms. He steadied me instantly, one large hand firm at my waist, the other lifting my chin with surprising gentleness. Careful enough that it didn’t feel like control, it felt like he was making sure my neck stayed attached to my body. Because I liked having my head on my neck, it made for a good place to stay.
Moonlight spilled into the clearing we’d stopped in, pale and full, bathing him in silver. Up close, I could see the way his skin shimmered faintly, not quite stone, not quite flesh. But like marble warmed by life beneath it. His eyes were impossibly green in this light, softer now, curious rather than burning, like oxidized copper polished to a lethal shine. Not green like those stupid mushrooms.
He tilted my head slightly, studying my pupils.
“Hello, handsome,” I said with enthusiasm.
His hand stilled.
“You are not meant to be… flirting with me,” he said slowly, and the pause before the word flirting made it sound like he had never used it in a sentence before.
I grinned up at him.
“I’m not flirting. I’m observing, and you are a Smokey Bandit.”
“A what?”
“Well, I don’t really know, but I mean hot… fire, smoking. Okay, we will just go with 'handsome' then. It’s got to be said.” I reached up, entirely without permission, and brushed my fingers along the line of his jaw. The skin there felt warm and smooth, then, beneath my touch, something harder surfaced briefly before receding again like a secret showing itself and then deciding it wasn’t ready to be told.
“Oooh,” I said. “That’s new and very cool.”
He didn’t stop me. In fact, he seemed momentarily unsure what to do at all. As though the choices were either to restrain me, which would be cruel when I could barely stand, or to let me touch him, which was apparently a scenario he had never considered.
“This reaction,” he said carefully, “is… unexpected.”
“That’s a shame,” I replied, tilting my head. “I think your kidnappers would’ve had more fun if they knew this was an option when you had them snatch me away.”
A sound escaped him then, low and startled, halfway between a laugh and a breath of disbelief.
“And your recent abductor no doubt didn’t plan for this,” he added, dryly as he looked me up and down.
“Nor did he plan for you, you little rage monster you,” I said, gripping his chin and giving it a playful shake, making his eyes widen in shock. But then, I suppose no one had ever dared to act like this around him before. Ha, no wonder I was having so much fun! “Rude of him, trying to trick me,” I agreed solemnly, as if I were filing an official complaint.
The tension eased between us then. Lighter, almost fragile. Like a glass ornament that could shatter if either of us breathed wrong. He lifted me again, this time without urgency, and I wrapped my arms around his neck automatically, resting my head against his shoulder as though that was where I belonged. As though my body had decided his was the safest place to be without consulting my brain first.
He stiffened for half a second, then resumed walking.
I inhaled deeply, nose brushing the warm skin of his neck, and frowned, because now that I was aware of it, the scent was unfair.
“You smell nice,” I informed him, as if he were a candle I planned to buy. “What smell are you wearing?”
“I do not wear a scent,” he said.
“Well, you don’t need to,” I replied. “Because this works.”
His shoulders shook faintly.
“Careful,” he said dryly. “You’re going to make me blush,” he teased, and I laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained, echoing through the trees. It startled me that I could laugh at all in the Badlands. That laughter could exist somewhere, built from petrified victims and predatory beauty. But then again, the drug in my veins didn’t seem to care about logic, and neither, apparently, did I.
As we walked, I grew quieter for a moment, the earlier giddiness dimming into something else. The forest slipped past around us, dark and watchful, but I felt strangely safe held against him like this. The way someone would feel safe in a locked room during a storm, even if they knew the house was haunted.
“They lied to me,” I said suddenly, my voice small.
