Page 31 of Tears of Gold

Ava

Harper takes my hand and leads me down a dark street. We’ve moved away from shop fronts and housing into lanes of bigger warehouses. Harper flinches at the sound of marching boots and drags me into a back alley, pulling me down behind a stinking pile of garbage. The footsteps pass by and fade into the night. My heart hammers so loud I’m sure Harper must hear it.

“Should we ask them for help?” I whisper. Even though I know it’s a bad idea, squatting here in the shadows feels worse. We haven’t done anything wrong.

He shakes his head. “What would we say? That we’re the prince’s companions? No one will believe that, and it’d put Erritt in a bad spot. We’d end up waiting in a dungeon somewhere, or worse.” He tips his head toward the distant clouds of smoke rising from the plaza, their underbellies lit red by the fires burning out of control.

“Right. Because we look pretty suspicious right now.”

He nods, his linked fingers tightening on mine in a silent promise to protect me.

“And because no one is supposed to mix with humans,” I murmur. After a long pause, I ask the question that’s been bothering me all day. “So why does Prince Erritt hang out with us?”

Harper glances at me but ignores my question, tugging me upright out of our hiding spot instead. His hand glows pink, shedding enough light to see a few feet ahead while we navigate a section of sunken cobblestones. We turn the corner of a building and find a side door and Harper throws out more light to inspect the lock.

“Who knows.” Muttering under his breath, he digs into a pocket and pulls out a plastic case. “Come help me, will you?” he asks.

I hold his case while he inserts thin metal rods into the dark hole. After a minute of working silently, the lock clicks open, and Harper ushers me inside. We stand in silence inside the door, listening. Then Harper relocks the door.

Taking my hand, we walk into a large warehouse stacked with giant wooden crates. After a thorough inspection, Harper declares it empty. The upper mezzanine level boasts an office piled with papers, computer screens, and samples of cloth bundles. More importantly, it has a bathroom and small bedroom.

“Oh, thank heavens!” I declare, racing for the toilet, not bothering to even close the door.

Harper turns his back, but not before I see a grin. Sheesh, how embarrassing! It’s not like we’re a couple who can pee in front of each other. Still, my nerves are fried and social niceties don’t seem all that important, given we just survived a bombing and were chased by goblins.

When I’ve finished, I find Harper poking through a medical kit, and I suddenly remember his shoulder.

“Let me take a look,” I instruct.

He lifts his glowing hand so I can see his injury. A tear runs down his sleeve, and blood seeps through the tattered fabric from the cut underneath.

I pluck at the pieces, worry leeching through me at the sight of the bloodstains. “Take this off.” Sorting through the small box of medical supplies, I find a bottle with liquid that stinks enough to be an antiseptic. I stare at it for a moment, my brow wrinkling as if it’s important for reasons other than cleaning his wound, but I don’t know why.

Harper strips off his jacket and shirt, revealing broad shoulders and a chiseled abdomen under the dagger harness. Old scars crisscross his torso, reminding me he’s a fighter. He hoists himself onto the desk, bringing his wound to eye height, and I can’t help noticing the heat from his skin under my fingertips as I dab away the blood, leaning close against his leg. The muscle definition along his arm is birthing strange, fluttering sensations in my chest. I wouldn’t even be able to fit my hands around his solid bicep.

Heat flickers in my belly as I remember our kiss. There’s no doubt that Harper likes me after the passion we shared, but that was in the heat of the moment. Now, nerves buzz in my core. He catches me looking at him under my lashes. His dark eyes glimmer in the pink qi glow as he smiles, revealing a crooked tooth that totally suits him.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

“Not much.”

I’m not sure I believe him since it looks like a painful injury. There’s a gash three inches long, and the skin around it purples with bruising. I clean the blood and put gauze over the cut, wrapping it in place with a bandage around his upper arm. “It might need stitches, but I can’t do that, sorry.”

He shrugs. “No worries, someone will look at it in the morning.”

I pack the things up and look at him. “This feels oddly familiar,” I murmur.

He smiles. “Does it? Maybe because I patched you up once.” Harper pulls me close and flinches. “Shit, Ava, you’re soaked!”

Running a hand over my dress, I discover he’s right. “The broken water pipe,” I mutter.

He clasps my waist in his big hands and turns me around. Gently, he removes the pins barely holding my bird’s nest hair in place. His knees rest either side of me, and his chest brushes against my back occasionally as his fingers work through my hair. I shiver, and it’s not just from the cold. I’m too conscious that his manhood—the piece of him which responded so clearly to me earlier—lies near my lower back.

Does he want me like I want him? I’m sure he does.

My hair falls, and Harper runs his fingers through it, hunting the last pins. I turn toward him, resting my hands on his thighs. I stand still as he searches my face, my heart pounding with the dread that he’ll turn me away. His hand caresses the hair around my ear, and his eyes drop to my lips, the distance between us crackling with our simmering desire. A calming sensation washes through my chest.

We both want this.