He pulled over one of the other chairs, sitting just in front of me and spreading his muscled thighs, using a hand to pull my chair closer so I was nearly between his legs. It made heat roar against my cheeks.
Ice blue eyes met mine as he took one arm gently in his grip and examined it. “Unpredictable forgefool, brave woman,” he muttered almost to himself. He dipped a cloth in one of the salves and began to work carefully on each wound.
“You’re the Ravager.”
“I am.”
I nodded, chewing lightly on my lip. It felt difficult, talking about this with him this close, all intimidating size and intensity while he tenderly swiped a cloth over my skin.
“Why do you serve the king as his Ambush Master and his enforcer when you’re secretly fighting to bring him down?”
Blake let out a short, hard breath. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “As Ambush Master, one of the Twin Blades of the king, I have access to insider knowledge the rebellion needs. Sometimes, I can save lives.” His mouth twisted. “Other times, I’m the one ordered to kill them when I fail. It is difficult.” He paused, the words catching. “There have been many times I’ve had to execute my own, people who trusted me as the Ravager.”
For a brief moment, the anguish he usually kept hidden broke across his face.
“But you don’t want to,” I said.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m always calculating: Can I spare this person? Is the risk worth it? Do I save more lives than I take?” He paused his cleaning, breathing deeply. “And it always leads to the same rusted question: Why do I still live when so many have died? And at my hands.”
A huff then, frustration at himself. At everything, it seemed.
The ache in my chest grew sharper.
Unable to stop myself, I put my free hand atop his on my skin. He was cold, the strain in him vibrating under my palm.
“You’re still here because you’re needed,” I said quietly. “You’re the leader of the Tyger Warriors and the head of the rebel forces. Without you, many more would have died. Without you, many would have no hope for their future at all.”
For a moment, he didn’t move. Then his fingers turned, gripping mine hard.
“It wasn’t us, you know. Tonight.”
I hadn’t thought so when I realized who exactly Blake was.
“Someone set us up to take the fall—the men we found with rebel bands on were king’s soldiers.” He shook his head again before releasing me and pulling away, gathering more of the materials his sister left for us.
“They’ve destroyed any trust the people had in us. All our progress—”
“I’m sorry, Blake,” I offered quietly. “But you can rebuild.”
His jaw clenched. “Maybe.”
The quiet grew as he finished my other arm.
“Let me check your head—”
I cut him off. “I’m fine. Let me look at you.” Small patches of blood were seeping through his tunic, dark against the fabric. “You’re bleeding. Take off your shirt.”
He smirked. “I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you.”
“Funny, Axefire,” I snipped.
Blake chuckled before standing and tugging his tunic over his head in one fluid motion.
My breath caught.
His body was a masterpiece. Broad shoulders tapering into a sculpted chest, every inch of him carved with lean muscle. A few battle scars mapped his skin, pale lines cutting through the golden hue, each one a story I didn’t know. His biceps flexed as he tossedthe bloodstained fabric aside, the muscles in his arms shifting with quiet power. His torso was all hard planes and perfect symmetry, the ridges of his abdomen tightening as he moved. A thin trail of light hair led downward, disappearing beneath his pants, and I had to snap my gaze back up before I followed it.
Blake smirked, as if he knew exactly where my thoughts had gone.
