“Nix,rixella,” he rasped.
Erin returned her eyes to him, pressing her lips together. “I just meant are we north? I heard it’s colder in the north on your planet.”
“Tev,” he finally said. “We arenorthof the Golden City.”
It told her nothing, just as he knew it would…which was why he told her in the first place. Anywhere was north of the Golden City, it seemed, based on the locations of the outposts she’d gleaned over time.
He was watching her, as if waiting for her to make a biting comment back or rise to the argument. Perhaps he liked fighting. Maybe he got off on it.
Erin wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, though the need to make a retort burned in her blood. Instead, she forced a small smile and said, almost sweetly, “That was all I wanted to know.”
He mumbled something under his breath, in Luxirian, rubbing a hand over his right horn. His horns were dark, lifted off the crown of his head, the points curled. Erin suddenly had the strongest urge to touch them, to stroke them, to feel them, but she squeezed her fists tight.
And since she truly couldn’t help herself, she found herself asking, “Are you always this surly? Or is it just because you haven’t really slept much?”
“Maybe because my sleep was interrupted last night,” he bit back, his voice edging on a growl though his eyes shone with the firelight when he looked at her.
He definitely gets off on arguing, she thought, her breath hitching. She paused.And maybe I do too. But only withhim.
“It won’t happen again,” she said, remembering her shame that morning. Her eyes narrowed, however, and she added quietly, “You took all the weapons out of the cave, after all.”
Even as the words left her mouth, Erin wonderedwhyshe said them. What was it about Jaxor that just made her want totesthim?
Erinsworeshe saw his lips twitch. Ever so slightly. And her heart raced at the sight. Something in her bloomed. Delight? Amusement? Whatever it was, it was ridiculous to feel, especially in that place, withhimsitting so close, with a frightening creature roasting on a spit in front of her, and her future so uncertain.
Regardless, her shoulders relaxed a fraction. His lips had twitched and so an odd truce stemmed between them, though it was precarious at best. It could break at any moment, especially givenbothof their mercurial tempers around one another, but it was still a reprieve.
The sudden memory of him biting her neck rose, as if in reminder of who she was dealing with. Her fingers floated up to the soft bruise, remembering it was there for the first time in a couple days.
Jaxor made a sound in his throat. A purr? A growl? She couldn’t be certain. Erin’s lips parted at that sound, at the tender pain that sizzled to her belly when she pressed the bruise ever so slightly.
When she removed her hand, it was trembling. Jaxor’s eyes were glued to her, that sound in his chest never letting up. He didn’t even seem to realize he was making it.
She remembered the sharp prick of his teeth. The dull throb of shock. She remembered her sex clenching in response.
A sudden dizziness made her head swirl.
I’m not like this, she thought. But even in her mind, her voice sounded small and quiet, as if she already knew it was a lie.
Erin looked into the fire. And then she squeezed her thighs together so Jaxor wouldn’t know how disturbingly aroused she was, thinking about that bite.
I’m not like this, she thought again. The words sounded firmer, louder in her mind.
But then another voice whispered back.
Yes, you are. And what’s more…you like it.
Chapter Eleven
Erin was five when she first saw John hit her mother. She’d been peeking through the doorway. Her mother had been pregnant with Jake and Ellora at the time—they’d been due in another month. It was the first time she’d actuallyseenit, but not the first time she’d been aware of the abuse.
The thing was that children saw a lot, they just responded to it in different ways. Even then, Erin knew it waswrong. She knew it was a terrible thing. But after John left that day, off to work in a fancy office in San Francisco, Erin had gone into her mother’s bedroom. Quietly, she’d crawled into bed next to her. Her mother had been crying, but Erin hadn’t been. Even then, she’d held her emotions tight and close, never letting them peek out. Even atfive. She’d known her mother needed her close and so she’d run her small fingers through her long, black hair. Erin liked when her mother did that to her, so she thought it would make her mother feel better.
For some reason, that was the first thing that Erin thought of the next morning, when she woke in the cave. Running her fingers through her mother’s hair after John had left a large, angry red mark across her temple.
Erin’s eyes watered and then a drop escaped, sliding across her own temple as she stared at the stone of the cave’s ceiling.
Then she squeezed her eyes tight, wiped her face, and sat up.
