Temper Page 5

  I don’t think she’s trying to make a dig about the way I left the ship all those weeks ago, but it stings. “I didn’t know how long I’d be gone.”

  “I thought you were dead.” Her voice cracks, and her eyes shine with the love we once shared. “I mourned you. Desperately. Losing you and Zed nearly destroyed me. Even now, standing here talking to you is surreal because to me you were gone. Gone. I don’t know how we can come back from that, to be honest, I don’t know if I want to. If I lost you again …”

  Zed’s face appears in my mind—accusing. Guilt paralyzes me. I should tell her the truth. Now. But the noise of Mother in a nearby room stops me. This isn’t the place for it, not when I’d be talking to ease my own guilt.

  “I don’t have all the answers,” I say instead. Her eyes draw me in. Closer. So close I can see the fine freckles forming on her nose. “But I know we’re not done.”

  “How do you know?”

  Mother bustles back in, and we leap apart as though caught red-handed, despite not actually touching at all.

  “The first course is served,” Mother announces with a flourish, lifting the lid off the pot to reveal wild mushroom soup.

  “It smells wonderful,” Asher says. “But are we waiting for someone?” She indicates the fourth place set at the table.

  Mother’s hand goes over her mouth. “Silly me, we mustn’t forget Samuai’s father.”

  I watch Asher’s face. How much information has spread through the camp about Huckle? It’s common knowledge that the rebellion and following fight against the Company left him a broken man, but Mother has kept the details so private even I’m not sure of the full story.

  She leaves the room.

  Asher frowns. “Huckle?”

  Sometimes I forget she lived with him, with them, for weeks. “You should know—”

  Movement at the door cuts off my attempt to warn Asher. Watching her reaction, I realize I didn’t need to. She’s not the kind of girl to cry out or faint in shock. Her polite smile falters only for a moment, and by the time Mother pushes the chair fully into the room, Asher is fully composed.

  However, I have to fight to remain neutral at the sight of them. Huckle is so bent he is strapped into the wheelchair, which Mother has to push. A line of drool seeps from the corner or his drooping mouth, and his feet drag on the floor.

  Reaching the table, she uses a napkin to wipe his face before gesturing for us to sit. I’m placed opposite the man I was raised to believe was my father. I can’t bring myself to look into the face that used to enjoy telling me I’d never follow him as head Official if he could help it.

  All that anger, and certainty of his own importance, gone. All that’s left is a shell.

  Despite his near constant presence in my childhood, Mother barely spoke to him. Yet now, she won’t let anyone else care for him. For her sake, I’ve offered to help a few times, but she does it all.

  Without complaint.

  Conversation over dinner flows better than I would have thought, mainly because Mother is happy to reminisce, with little contribution from either Asher or I, about the good old days on the ship. Huckle grunts occasionally, but other than prying open his jaw to feed him, Mother acts as though he’s not next to her at the table.

  Considering nothing important is said over dinner, Mother is quite happy to let me leave with the excuse of guard duty as soon as the meal is done. Asher gives her thanks and excuses and follows me out into the clear, cold night.

  We walk together without talking. It’s quiet out tonight. Tesae’s death has cast a shadow on the camp, and everyone has sought the safety of their own tents and close family. Watching over the rabbit pens is the last thing I want to spend my night doing. My arm aches where I ran out of time today to get stitches, and I can’t stop thinking that in a few hours Asher will head off with my brother. Him, I trust less than the Company. At least we know they’re the enemy. I’m afraid Davyd will charm Asher into thinking he’s on her side.

  I don’t warn her though. She’ll think I’m jealous, and I can’t be sure I’m not.

  And I don’t bring up Zed. Not even the guilt weighing me down is enough to risk ruining our last moments together. The truth can wait until she returns.

  But as we approach the point where the path forks and I turn to head up the trail, I’m still thinking of all the things I haven’t told her and all the questions I haven’t asked. I’m thinking about how close her hand is to mine and how easy it would be to take it.

  Strange now, when reaching out to Asher before had seemed impossible.

  We stand at the intersection of the paths. Neither of us wants to be the one to walk away.

  “Come with me,” I say eventually. “For a while. I know you have to pack and you have to get up early.”

  “For a little while,” she agrees.

  I take a breath and take her hand in mine. She doesn’t pull away. It’s like the knowledge of her leaving has at last let us remember the way we used to be, back when the ship was our whole world.

  Our hands swing between us as we walk together, skin on skin, and a warmth links us closer than we’ve been for a long time. I’m more aware of her than ever. The puff of her breath in the cold night air, the swish of her skirt brushing against her legs, and the hint of her pulse beating in her wrist.

  Real, alive, everything that kept me anchored and from losing my mind completely when the rest of Samuai was gone.

  We check the rabbit pens on the way, making sure they’re secure, and then climb to the lookout. The green robe on early duty waves us goodbye and hurries back to the camp for a hot meal.

  We settle onto the rocky outcrop, hands still entwined. We’re truly alone for the first time since I left the ship and returned. I should tell her about Zed while I have the chance, but when I open my mouth, it’s not to cleanse my conscience. “I heard your voice.”

  Her head turns toward me. The clear night lets me see her face lit by the moon. Its angles are sharper, the skin around her eyes weary from everything she’s experienced and lost. So beautiful.

  A small frown forms between her brows. “When?”

  “Back when I was Blank. They told me nothing would be able to breach the walls the Company put in my mind. I guess they hadn’t bargained on what we shared.”

  “Everything was different then.”

  “I know, but some things haven’t changed.” I lean toward her. “Like, when I’m close to you, all I want is to be closer.”

  “If I let you kiss me now, it’s going to be a whole lot harder to leave in the morning.” Her breath tickles my lips.

  “Let me? Who says I’ll give you a choice?”

  She smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness to it. “You will. Because you’re one of the good guys.”

  She means it as a compliment. I’m sure. But it stabs deep into the places and memories inside of me that tell me I’m anything but good. Here, I’ve wasted our last night together letting my want drive away everything else. “There’s so much you still don’t know.”

  She presses a finger to my lips. “Not now. Don’t tell me now.”

  Does she guess, somehow, that if I tell her everything she’ll hate me? Or is her body aching for me the way mine is for her?

  I’ve been not telling Asher the truth for so long now that it’s easy to push the words back down. I tell myself the past is over, and we have so little time. But I know it’s an excuse. The same excuse that stops me asking more about her relationship with my brother.

  I want to pretend there is nothing but us.

  I hesitate. Kissing Asher used to be as easy as breathing. Her lips are so close I can almost taste them, but it might as well be impossible. To close the gap will put Blank in the past forever. I’m not sure …

  She sways toward me, pulled by a force stronger than us both. Her mouth warm and soft touching mine and then gone.

  I groan, deep in my throat. Decision made. Her kiss
was too fleeting. I need more.

  I cup her neck and draw her back to me. Press my lips against hers. Kissing Asher, at last.

  And her mouth opens, and she’s reciprocating with a need I also feel throughout my body. It’s like she’s trying to lose herself in me, and there’s nothing I want more this second than to help her get lost.

  We kiss and kiss. I trace the line of her back and the swell of her hip, the silky dress covering everything but allowing so much. She presses against me, and I lose track of where I finish and she begins. The camp and the Company and the whole world disappear until there’s only the taste and feel of this girl who I’ve loved for so long.

  This girl who would hate me if she knew the truth.

  Reality is like a kick to the balls. I edge away, hating the way her body follows. I can’t let this go further without telling her everything that happened when I left the ship. But if I tell her now, she’ll leave angry and reckless. She’ll take risks on her mission that I don’t want to imagine.

  She stares at me through hazy eyes. Her lips shine red and plump, and I have to use every shred of willpower and some images of Huckle in his chair, not to taste her again.

  “I thought I heard something,” I say.

  She blinks a few times, stands and steps away. Her arms wrap around her body as though suddenly chilled. “Oh.”

  I climb to my feet. “I didn’t want to stop.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” is her quick reply.

  But it does. I don’t need any more of an excuse than to make everything between us okay, to cross over to her and take her back into my arms. She doesn’t resist. This time I claim her mouth gently. Exploring the contours of each lip with my tongue before cradling her head on my chest. “If things were different I’d never stop kissing you.”

  “If things were different, I’d never let you.”

  A rock tumbles down the trail.

  Her head snaps up. “There was a noise that time.”

  “Who’s there,” I call.

  But there’s no answer. A moment later there’s a rustle in the bushes behind us.

  “Who’s there?”

  My pulse, already racing thanks to Asher, skips into overdrive. Q in hand, I face the direction of the noise and prepare for attack. Any thought I might be the hero vanishes as Asher pushes past me. Unarmed, and unafraid, she approaches the sound.

  “What are you doing?”

  She holds up her hand to shush me. “I think I know what the sound is.” She crouches and holds out a hand, palm up. “Out you come,” she murmurs.

  For a long moment, nothing happens. Then a nose appears and a brown body with matted fur. Its wild eyes are fixed on Asher. One step, two, it approaches, its whole body trembling.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  The thing freezes at the sound of my voice. Then it’s gone, disappearing into the shadows.

  “Wild dog.” Asher stands and acts as though nothing happened. She rolls her shoulders and smothers a yawn. “It’s late, and I have to finish packing.” Her skirt catches in the cold night wind and whips around her bare legs. “Not to mention change.”

  Given the excuse, I look at her dress, every sweep and curve. “What’s wrong with that outfit?”

  Another hint of a smile. “Not sure it’s suitable for breaking into the Company compound.”

  I reach out and touch her hip. The thin material does nothing to disguise the softness of her skin. “I don’t know. It could work on a distraction level.”

  “You think?”

  “Are you looking for a compliment?”

  “Maybe.”

  Asher the vulnerable girl stirs my blood nearly as much as when she led the charge against the Company. I lean closer. For so long I’ve not let myself remember how being near her makes me feel—alive. It’s been easier to stay away. But I’ve missed this. Missed her.

  She kisses me back, but I feel her thinking. She has so much to do tonight. The moment between us is gone. Mentally, I curse the wild dog and its bad timing.

  Asher steps back, her hands clasped. I’m foolish enough to imagine it’s so she doesn’t reach for me.

  “I should go,” she says.

  I nod. Anything I can think of to say would start a conversation I’m not ready for now. Except one thing. “Goodbye.”

  She blinks, and I imagine I see tears shining in her eyes, but then she blinks again and they’re clear. Her lips press together, and she turns away without saying goodbye.

  I watch every step as she leaves.

  Chapter Five

  [Asher]

  “Alone at last,” Davyd says.

  He’s stopped the dirt bike the green robes lent us for our mission a little ways over the top of the first of the Upheaval Mountains. We’re between the settlement and the city, out of sight of anyone who might have been watching us leave.

  Sitting behind him on the bike, I’m aware of every place our bodies touch, and I’m careful not to tense. Every breath is a mixture of fuel and clean male. He’s testing me, and I’ll not react, not over a petty jibe.

  “No retort? Temper under control?” He grins at me over his shoulder. “Nice to know I’m safe from being murdered in my sleep.”

  My smile is sweet. “I make no promises.”

  The hidden sun is beginning to lighten the distant horizon, and though the clouds above are black and heavy, the rain is holding off. Part of me aches to be back at the camp. For so long I’ve felt nothing but hollow; yet losing myself in Samuai’s arms last night created a spark. A spark that just might bring me back to life.

  If I wasn’t risking my life with his brother.

  I set myself and focus on the task ahead. The city isn’t far, and when I return with the medicine or the antidote or whatever it is that stopped us all killing each other on the ship, I’ll find Samuai and finish what we started.

  “Your friend gave me this for you.” Davyd interrupts my thoughts. He holds out his hand, fist clenched.

  I hesitate and then open my palm. A pale white flower drops into my hand followed by a piece of paper. A note from Kaih, it reads simply, You have me.

  She’s reminding me of when I stood up in the council meeting and listed the reasons I should be the one to go on this mission. It came down to the fact that I have no one to miss me if I’m gone.

  Turning away from Davyd, I slide the flower into my bra, the velvet of the petals are soft against my skin.

  I will come back. I will succeed.

  “Hold on,” he calls.

  I have to grab at him to stop from falling as the bike leaps forward. I imagine I feel the rumble of his amusement. It’s going to be a long journey.

  ***

  An hour later, he takes a sharp left onto a barely-there trail leading higher into the mountains. Rock and gravel spray behind us at the change in direction. The bike skids a few feet and then grips the loose surface.

  “This isn’t the way we came,” I shout. I’m not great with directions, but the road between the settlement and the city was pretty much straight when we travelled in a convoy of beaten-up trucks a few weeks ago.

  “I know.”

  That’s it. No more explanation. We ride on for a few minutes, and it’s only when he’s squirming I realize, to my annoyance, I’ve tightened my grip on his waist. I let go, switching my hold onto the back of the bike behind me. “Stop.”

  He doesn’t. I’m sure he’s heard me, but he nurses the bike over a bump in the track as though I didn’t speak. I don’t ask again. I reach around and place my hand over his on the brake, squeezing, forcing him to slow. The bike swerves and I let go, but my actions work where words failed. The moment he stops, I jump off the bike.

  He glares, lifting his helmet off, and he runs a hand through his damp hair before folding his arms. “What the hell? You could have got us killed.” His voice vibrates with fury.

  “You didn’t listen.”

  �
��Maybe because this isn’t the best place to stop for a deep and meaningful chat about your feelings.”

  I look around. The track is narrow but clear. On one side, rock climbs toward the sky making a vertical wall, and on the other, slopes down for a little way, the clearing having captured some pockets of soil where tiny grasses struggle to grow, before rising again.

  “Terrifying.”

  “Walk a little that way.”

  I’m torn between curiosity because he’s so certain he has a point and general irritation at his high-handed manner. Seems the whole freedom thing is working for me. “I don’t need to follow your orders anymore.”

  He expels a breath through clenched teeth and drops his helmet before grabbing my hand. A jolt of awareness throws my concentration off for a second, and I find myself being led along. We round a curve in the track.

  I stumble back. “Holy crap.”

  It’s like a giant has taken a bite out of the side of the mountain, chewed it up, and spat it out farther down the valley. It’s not simply that there’s a cliff face on one side and a drop on the other, but I swear the rock curves away under the path so narrow I can see pieces of it crumbling before my eyes.

  “We’re not going on that.”

  He heads back to the bike. “We are.”

  “Why? There’s a perfectly good road to the city. We travelled it a few weeks ago.”

  “The common, well-known road?”

  “Yes.”

  “The one the Company is probably monitoring if they have even half a brain.”

  Of course they have to be. I should have thought of that. “There must be a better option than a track we’re unlikely to survive.”

  “We will if you sit back there and keep your hands to yourself. I know it’s difficult because of your constant need to touch me but when falling to your death is the alternative, I kind of hoped you’d at least try.”

  Need to touch him? My jaw tightens, and I take a few deep breaths, determined not to respond. No matter how satisfying it might be, throttling him won’t solve anything. I force myself to focus on the practicalities.