Page 137 of Ashborne: Defiance

‘You know—’

‘Kham.’

He released a long, huffing groan, but lumbered over to where I sat and extended his head, nudging me with his snout, until I scratched his nose.

‘Rest, Voski,’ he said quietly. Worriedly. ‘You need it as surely as she does.’

I nodded and scratched him one more time, then watched as the two of them rubbed noses and necks, then launched into the air.

There was a small pang of panic when he flew off—feeling him grow more distant when I already felt torn and agitated. But I knew it was right. The further away he was, the less I’d feel of their heat. And I’d brought food. I would read until it grew dark. Then eat. Then sleep.

Tomorrow it would be easier.

I was still jumpy as a cat after her taking that fall—

“Where did they go?”

I almost leapt out of my skin at the soft voice, just feet away, off to my left.

“Holy shit!”

I launched myself to my feet and whirled to find a shocked, wide-eyed Grace standing just behind the next tree, a bundle under her elbow, her hair darker because it was wet, but now tightly, and somewhat erratically braided.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

She jerked back, shock and fear painted all over her pretty face. A warning sang in my head, and my chest panged. But I was irrationally furious at the fright and—

“Seriously, Grace, what the actual fuck!”

“I’m sorry!”

“How do you do that?! How did you even find me—”

Shit. She was at my solitude. She was here.

As she babbled excuses, her eyes welling, I looked left and right. I wasn’t under the treehouse. Hopefully, she hadn’t seen it. Hopefully she just thought I was out there to be alone and… how the hell did she find me?

“I came here to be alone—why the fuck are you following me?!”

Her forehead furrowed, then her brows pressed down in anger. “I wasn’t following you!” she snapped. “I came to find Koa because I could sense her here, but I was too late. I only wanted to bathe without men ogling me, it’s not my fault you chose the same place and—”

“Ogling?” I growled. “Who the fuck is ogling?” I stepped closer. She stepped back and finally, as if God Himself snapped fingers under my nose, I saw her.

Nose swollen, bruises rising under her eyes, which were wide and bloodshot with tears and anger. Ill-fitting leathers. Hair poorly braided, as if she wasn’t very practiced at it. Her voice high and shrill.

And when I stepped toward her, she backed away.

Afraid, that little voice whispered. Inwardly, I flinched. I didn’t want to, but as I assessed her, I became aware of those sensations in my chest that were always stronger when she was near.

She was in pain. She was exhausted. She’d been looking for reassurance. And now she was afraid. Of me.

Dear God, I’d been an ass.

I locked eyes with her and her expression turned wary.

Worse.