My mouth opens and then closes. He’s not wrong.
Ra’Sa’s rough fingers trail up my sides. Not lightly, but not bruising, either.
“I need to get a better look at the cut. It’s quite deep.”
I sit there for a second, dumbstruck.
“If you wanted me to undress, you should've done something about it when I was in your lap. I could be naked and riding you right now," I grit out, half-goading but also trying to distract myself from the inevitable pain. He doesn’t have to know that was something Ilongedfor in sleep.
"What is wrong with you?" he demands, letting go of my ribs and leaning away from me. "You draw me in, then push me away. Now, you wake me up and are frustrated that I didn't make love to you less than two days before we arrive in the giant territory? Before I hand you off to another man?”
I look at him, furious, as the blood dampens more of my dress.
But then his eyes widen. "Are you trying to do this?"
I inch away from him. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"You keep too many secrets wrapped up in the layers of your mind. You're playing a game," he says.
This isn’t a game—this is my life. My survival is valuable, for it sustains the two girls back in the slave pens.
"I care for you,” I say.
"But you care more about whatever game you are playing, right?" he says at last.
Something nudges me, suggesting that he might be more generous with his opinions if I tell him the truth. But that would leave me exposed. What if he changed his mind about helping me?
"You're angry with me," I murmur, unsure what else to say.
"Yes." He pauses, "No. I'm angry with myself and frustrated that I didn't see it earlier."
“Ra’Sa, I am not playing a game. I like you,” I say. I’m almost afraid of how quickly that is becoming truth.
He looks up at me. “Really?”
“Yes.”
He grows strangely silent after that.
“You know, I could help ease your frustration." I wince as I apply more pressure to the wound weeping at my side.
He frowns. “Will you stop that? Now, take off your dress. Or better yet, don’t. You only need to expose your ribs.”
I clamp my mouth shut and then allow him to assist me in removing my arms from my sleeves and pushing the dress below my breastband. The chill of the night bites at my skin, causing my nipples to pebble.
He reaches for the cloak and drapes it over my shoulders.
“Tell me if you get too cold,” he murmurs.
I swallow back another comment, and he places me atop the packs he carries, leaning me against one of them as if it were a pillow. With my back on an incline and him between my legs, I feel the heat crawl up my neck.
He sifts for a few things out of his pack, withdrawing herbs. I recognize some of them from Estela’s stash.
“Have you been taking lessons with the human queen?”
He exhales, and his warm breath skims along my bare torso. “More like with Ulla.”
Absent-mindedly, my fingers close around his wrist.