I can breathe. I know how. I can breathe. I know how.
For a second, my lungs opened. A whisper of air came in. I put all my might into pushing it out. Air came in again, and I shoved it out, shaking with the effort. It wasn’t working right. It wasn’t working at all.
I became vaguely aware of a warm weight on my arm. “In for two seconds, out for two seconds. Force it,” that voice ordered.
I didn’t like the imperious tone, but I did what it said. The first breath didn’t work, and the second was stuttered, but the next one was two seconds long. Each one after that got easier, and then I was just breathing.
I registered the demanding pain sprouting from every point of my body. Everything would be purple tomorrow. There couldn’t be an inch of me that had made it unscathed. The pulsing ache in my shoulder was the worst, followed by the hot burn of angry scrapes on my back and legs.
My eyes closed, then half opened before closing again.
A low moan floated to my ears, and I belatedly realized it was mine.
That weight on my arm disappeared, and fingertips found the side of my face. The skin was rough, but the touch was light. That warmthwas there again. It would be comforting if it didn’t belong to him.
“Open those eyes for me.” The request was soft, coaxing even. It didn’t sound right coming from that deep, commanding voice.
Opening them would reveal their damned color. I didn’t know what the hues would mean to him.
Those fingers traced my eyebrow, still gentle in their pressure. I wished they weren’t. I wished he would just strike me or stab me and get it over with.
“You can’t lie here forever with your eyes closed,” he said with an air of amusement. Then hot air tickled my ear, and he whispered, “And we both know I already saw them.”
My eyes snapped open, and he pulled away, bringing those irritating fingers with him. I shifted until I sat on my hip, swallowing a groan as I gave him the most savage glare I could. How I wished I’d gotten the woman’s terrifying voice with her eyes. I would wield it as a weapon against him.
If weapons could even hurt him.
He sat on his heels beside me, a hulking mass covered in light brown leathers. Black straps crossed his torso, holstering an unreasonable number of wicked-looking knives. Really—who needed that many knives? The hilt of a sword protruded from his back. Studded leather braces wrapped thick forearms, but the rest of his arms were uncovered, revealing sinewed, shaped muscles scored by jagged scars. I must have hit my head when I landed because I spent a moment thinking that I’d never seen muscles carved so precisely. The top of his dark brown hair was pulled away into a knot, leaving the rest to hang in soft waves that just brushed those rounded shoulders.
My eyes traced the strands to the face that was just as intimidating as the rest of him. Dark eyebrows stood against golden, tanned skin, matching eyes so dark they were nearly black. Sharp, wide cheekbones pointed to smooth, ordinary lips, but the chiseled featuresdidn’t make him pretty. His strong nose was slightly crooked, probably from being broken, and thick stubble roughened any smooth edges. It was an overwhelmingly masculine face, one that suggested he was slightly older than me but still in his prime.
It was a face that’d seen battle. A face that many saw just before death.
I finished my perusal and met his gaze. Something like wonder filled them as he studied my eyes.
My fall must have killed any sense I had left because anger snapped, and I blurted, “It’s rude to stare, you know.”
Slowly, he raised an eyebrow.
Taunting a beast was the pinnacle of stupidity. Yet part of me was too tired, too worn down, to care.
But the corner of his lips just curled. “I could say the same. My arms were growing tired of your stare.” The assured bass aligned with the rest of him.
Heat crawled up my neck. Skin protested as my spine straightened. “The scars draw attention. If you don’t want people to stare, cover them,” I all but hissed. It was mean. I wasn’t sorry. All of this, everything from the past week, was absolute horseshit. I couldn’t fight him with my body, but I could throw daggers with my words.
His grin widened, revealing straight, clean teeth. “Based on the intrigue I saw, you’d be rather disappointed if I covered these arms.”
“What you saw was disgust.”
“You have a rather interesting way of showing disgust.”
He was playing with me.
In an instant, the fire in me exploded. “Will you just kill me? Just do it already.” His smile dropped, but I wasn’t finished. The itch in my chest was unbearable. “For the love of this awful, forsaken land, donotwaste my time with cute conversation before slicing through my neck. Just get the damn thing over with so I can finally stopwondering what my life has become.” I panted as the outburst echoed through the quiet.
The muscles of his jaw jumped, but he didn’t reach for a weapon—only watched me with grim resolve.
Shame replaced the anger. Begging him to kill me? I was better than that.
