At his searing stare—
Oh, what the hell.With one foot already in the quagmire, she might as well leap all in since there was no saving her from her quick mouth. “So,you, Mr. Right and Proper, straight-as-an-arrow, don’t do it for me.”
Trying to ignore his heated stare, Leya sliced her shirt along one seam, set the blade aside, then ripped off a strip at the hem to use as a tie. She folded the remaining part of the shirt and placed it against his oozing injury. His hands fisted, and his jaw clenched as she used the swatch of fabric to secure the makeshift bandage around his waist.
She picked up his jacket again, only to have his scent swamp her as she drew it on. Her fingers brushed against the seared hole in the leather, and her teeth clenched in anger. She wanted to find the damn jerkwads who started this shit and kill them.
As she zipped up, she lifted her head and found him watching with that half-lidded stare.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Only to yourself,” she shot back.
God, he confused her. Despite the immense pain he must be in, he worried about her. Heck, she was worried about herself, too, about how to get back home. But first, she had to survive this ice hell and help him.
Needing his warmth, Leya sat next to him, drew her knees up, and wrapped her arms around them.
“Will those rebels return?” she asked warily. They would both be sitting ducks if that occurred.
“Unlikely. I need a little time, then we’ll leave this place. I can’t dematerialize us just yet.” He grunted with a shallow inhale. “Talk to me, so I can forget this damn pain. Tell me about yourself, about the photos in your workplace.”
Leya frowned and rested her chin on her knees, trying to recall which photos he was talking about. “My sister takes them. Most are of clients, the before and after shots—”
“No, the ones you’re in. No garden.”
Ohhh,okay.
“Well, one is of me with my father and sister from a few months ago. My birthday.” She’d turned twenty-four, and Hana had baked a cake for her. She smiled, remembering. “It was the first time we celebrated a birthday since my mother’s passing.” Sadness descended.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He reached out and tucked an escaped curl of hair behind her hair, startling her.
She bit her lip and nodded, watching the glare from the snow beyond the cave dim with the arrival of twilight. The shadows surrounding them deepened.
“It’s been three years, but at times, it still feels like it just happened. She suffered an aneurysm, fell into a coma, she never woke up again.” Leya swallowed, still finding it difficult to talk about her mother. “It was the hardest day in our lives when…when my father decided to let her go.”
“I feel you.”
His tone was rough, and it wasn’t due to his current pain. He’d suffered loss, too.
She glanced at him. Blood continued to drip down his face from a gash in his brow. Damn. She scrambled to her knees, searched in her jeans pocket, and found unused tissues from the small pack she usually carried. Gently, she pressed them to his wound.
Eyes shut, he’d lapsed into silence.
She studied his too-pale features, the skin pulled tight over his sharp cheekbones. “Who did you lose?” she asked softly.
A ragged inhale. “My…my little sister.”
“I’m so sorry.” Leya sat back on her heels, then she frowned. “Wait, I don’t understand. If your race is immortal, how can that be?”
CHAPTER8
Vae.He didn’t want to talk about something that still haunted him. Aerén dropped his head back against the wall. The throb in his side fired blades of agony for his daring to move, and he grunted.
Fucking demons!
Aye, better him than Leya taking the hit. She was mortal and wouldn’t survive a blow like that.
Still, he found himself answering her. “Our young are more susceptible to mortality in their early years. She was four. It might have happened eons ago, but I remember everything.”
