“Alanna.”
Gods. She was so strong and proud, standing with her back straight and chin up. So beautiful. He wanted to unravel those infuriating braids and run his hands through her silky hair. He wanted to unlace her jerkin and pull her bare skin against his. He wanted to lean down and worship her with his mouth and never let her go.
He took a step back and folded his arms. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
“What are you in the mood for?”
Had any other woman said those words, they would have been intentionally seductive, and he couldn’t help the flood of images his imagination immediately supplied.
But not Alanna. She looked genuinely curious, one pale eyebrow lifted as she watched him, waiting patiently for his answer.
Gods. She had absolutely no idea what she did to him. And she never would.
He turned his back on her and walked further into the tent. “I’m in the mood for you to go away so that I can pack.”
“Pack?”
He shrugged, refusing to look at her. They both knew that he had nothing to pack.
“Why are you packing?” she asked eventually.
“I’m leaving. Today.”
There was a moment’s silence and then a soft footfall. A gentle hand landed on his arm and his muscles quivered with the conflicting torture of how desperately he wanted her to touch him, and the need to throw her off before he did something they both regretted.
“Okay.” She sounded so sad and resigned that he almost turned to look at her. He wished that she would argue, ask him to stay. It wouldn’t change anything, but it would have been nice to think she cared for him, just a little.
But she didn’t. He gritted his teeth and kept his face away.
She sighed and asked softly, “Where are we going?”
What?
He didn’t understand why she had asked the question. But he definitely understood that she was going to stay with the squad that could protect her. And that he was going far away. By himself.
He whirled around and glared at her. “Weare not going anywhere.”
She blinked up at him, her scorching hand returning to rest lightly on his arm. He could feel it all the way down to his soul.
She kept her eyes on his and shook her head. “I don’t want to stay here without you.”
“I’m sure Rafe will keep you company.” Gods, when had he started sounding like an adolescent?
“I’m not interested in Rafe’s company.” Her softly lilting accent made the words that much more agonizing, a painful cut of hope that she could possibly be suggesting that she wanted to be with him.
He pulled his arm back and wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, reminding himself that she had been abundantly clear about what she thought of his company and just how little she wanted to be with him.
Fuck. She’d chosen to go back to an abusive, sadistic bastard who had tried to have her killed rather than endure being with him.
His head was aching again as he pushed past her. He stopped at the entrance of the tent and gave her one last look. “I’m going alone.”
He turned to leave and stepped outside, almost missing her quiet words. “Have you told Nim?”
No. He hadn’t. And after everything he’d cost her, he knew he couldn’t just abandon his sister.
His steps faltered, and he paused for a moment before changing direction and stalking back to the firepit, furious that Alanna hadn’t let him leave. That she was still making him feel so fucking useless.
He sank down onto the log next to Nim, ignoring the speculative looks of the men around him. Alanna hadn’t followed him, thank the gods.
