“Stellan,” he says, voice deep and dangerously calm. His hands are already on me, wiping the man’s blood from my chin and neck, and tearing at my clothes to check for wounds.
“I’m fine,” I say, grabbing his wrists. “He just nicked me in the shoulder. All this blood isn’t mine.”
Alastair sighs, and his hand lands on my right cheek. “Are you sure?”
His sudden gentleness disarms me. “I’m—I’m sure.”
Before I realize what’s happening, he has gathered me into his arms and pulls me to my feet as if I weigh nothing more than a sack of grain. I’m a big man, and no one has ever manhandled me like this. It’s… strange.
“Thank you,” I mumble, pulling away from his embrace. Then I wince from the pain in my shoulder finally making itself known.
Alastair’s pale eyes narrow. “He did more than just nick you. Let me look at it.”
“Later. It’s fine for now; it’s not bleeding much. Let’s figure out what happened to Anna and Johnny, and we can be on our way and find a spot to spend the night. Then, I’ll wash and stitch it.”
He’s usually the one giving orders, and I can see him hesitate to push the issue, but he seems to think better of it. I can be stubborn, too.
“Stay here,” he says. “I left the woman alive. I’ll be right back.”
I grab my gun from the ground and lean on the truck while he disappears into the building once again. Seconds later, I hear screams. When the silence comes back, it’s deafening.
“They attacked Johnny and Anna on the road three days ago,” Alastair says when he returns. “They killed them.” A muscle in his jaw flexes. “Let me check the caravan for anything we can take, and we’ll be on our way.”
I sit in the truck and send a message through the radio that the caravan is up for the taking. Nothing goes to waste in the world after the Rise. In the matter of hours, the closest traveling merchants will be here to scavenge it.
My shoulder is on fire, and I can feel my blood seeping through my clothes.
Minutes later, Alastair comes back with a bag full of food and a plastic water tank over his shoulder. “You’ll be able to wash with this. You smell awful.”
I glare at him. “It’s not me. The man stank like death.”
“I know. You usually smell good,” he says before disappearing behind the truck to load the tank in the camper. I blink, flustered. He comes back a moment later. “Move. I’ll drive.”
“I’m fine.”
“Can’t you just fucking relax for a moment and let me handle things?” His anger surprises me, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m scooting over to the passenger side like a scolded child. “Good man,” he says.
I glare at his profile as he drives us away from the dilapidated casino.
Just as Alastair isn’t used to being disobeyed, it’s uncommon for people to ignore my anger and resentment. I’m a big and scary man, and normally only Perri and my mothers play with my boundaries. But it appears my king is learning to do just that, and I don’t know how I feel about it.
I drop my face on the window, the glass feels nice on my heated cheek.
I doze off until Alastair stops the truck in the middle of a field of yellow grass—one spark and it would set the whole thing ablaze.
He puts a hand on my arm. “Come now. Let’s take care of you first.”
I sigh and follow him to the camper at the back of the truck. I stand awkwardly in the middle of the cramped space as he turns on the water heater in the shower.
“Take your clothes off and get in,” he says.
I eye the narrow shower stall. “I won’t fit.”
“Yes, you will. I’ve used it before, and I’m bigger than you. Hurry up.”
No need to remind me.
I don’t feel like arguing right now, and a warm shower sounds heavenly. I try to pull my t-shirt off, but the burn in my shoulder intensifies and I grimace. Alastair comes to my rescue and gently pulls the bloody garment off my back. He wrinkles his nose and throws it through the open back and into the field. Then he sees the wound on my shoulder, still bleeding, and growls faintly. For some reason, his little show of temper makes me smile. I’m glad to know I piss him off as much as he pisses me off.
