“You think he’ll do it?” I hear Cypress mutter.
Aiden nods. “He will. The upstanding deputy may not listen, but that boy won’t want to spend his life looking over his shoulder.”
All I can think is that is precisely what we are about to do.
A week of hard riding passes by, our party stopping only long enough to rest the horses and ourselves before we move again. The path we take is jagged, full of backtracking and misdirection in the event that we should be followed again, which leaves plenty of time to think about what’s chasing us. Although, that’s not the part that has me most worried.
Aiden is.
He’s barely spoken since the three of us rode away from that last town, a far-off look in his eyes whenever I sneak a glance at him. And it’s as if all the progress we’d made only days ago has suddenly been lost.
I know Cypress is worried, too. I see him watching him, see the lines in his brow even as he tries to fill the quiet with his stories.
I want to ask Cypress what I can do, how I can help. But I don’t trust the night to keep our secrets while Aiden paces so close.
Has he even slept? If he has, it’s not been next to Cypress and me, his bedroll still cold and undisturbed when I go to sleep andwhen I wake.
I just want him back.
On the fifth night, I see them argue, reminding me of that evening I’d watched them by the water from my hiding place. There’s nowhere to hide now, but I wouldn’t even if I could.
Cypress’s hands frame Aiden’s face as they stand by the wagon, their voices low but their emotions high. Only this time, it’s Aiden that shakes his head and walks away, and Cypress can’t stop him even though he tries.
Two days later, the sun is still high when we reach our destination, a small log cabin tucked deep into the mountain woods.
To most, it would be nothing special. A cozy single room with three small windows and a fireplace along the back wall. A large woven rug in front of it. A stove, a table, and a few chairs on one side. But for all its simplicity, it’s the item tucked into the back corner that makes it feel like a palace.
“Oh, God,” I practically moan. “A bed.”
Cypress chuckles softly beside me, putting his arm around me and nuzzling into my hair. “Abigbed.”
I grin, and I look back for Aiden, my short-lived smile fading as I see him already walking away into the woods with Cypress’s rifle to hunt. My gaze returns to Cypress, his eyes thoughtful as he watches, too. When I turn to wrap my arms tight around him, I press my face into his shirt and inhale the spicy scent of pine and mint. No trace of leather and smoke.
“All right, Cypress,” I say on the exhale. “Talk.”
The first time I was here was after I’d gotten caught at the end of a knife blade, the sharp edge cutting into the curve of my right shoulder before I’d managed to twist away.
I’d lost a lot of blood before Aiden was able to patch me up, more than I’d wanted to admit until I’d nearly fallen from Cerberus as we fled. Aiden had grabbed my reins and swung up behind me without hesitation, holding me in place while I drifted in and out of consciousness. When I woke again, we were here.
“Cypress?”
I know I’ve stalled as long as I can when I hear Cora call me back to the present. I’ve already tried as many distractions as are available in the small cabin, the nearby creek where she could try to wash away the last few days proving to be the most successful.
When she came back I managed to slip around her questions again by slipping away to do the same before she could pin me down, but now she’s standing across from me in the little roomthat feels even smaller with the way she’s staring at me, hands on her hips and absolutely unwilling to be diverted again. At least, I don’t think… “Little bird, did you see the be—”
“I saw the bed, Cypress. Tell me what’s wrong with Aiden.”
Well, I tried. Admirably, considering that I am struggling with my own attention span while also trying to redirect hers. Cora had interestingly failed to fully redress after she washed up, and is currently raising my blood in more ways than one, standing there comfortable and confident as can be in her white camisole and petticoat.
Not that I haven’t seen her in less, memories that are burned into my brain as they burn me up, but there really issomethingabout women’s undergarments. Her mouth curves as she watches me study her.
She’s doing this on purpose. Trying to throw me off. And it’s working.
I wonder if she will let me buy her more things now. Because she would look so very lovely in something from Paris. Something with fine lace that she has no other reason to wear except to have Aiden and me take it off her with our teeth. Surely she’ll let me. Let me get her whatever she wants now that she’s firmly decided to throw her lot in with ours.
Clearly she has, otherwise she would have turned tail and ran a long time ago, and right now, Cora’s refusing to budge.
No, my little bird is stubborn. Smart. Strong. My wild one.Ourwild one. And for fuck’s sake, sheneedsto be fucked. It’s a crime she hasn’t been, the only one I’d willingly plead guilty to as long as I get to do the honor myself. Well, and Aiden. Who also needs a hard fuck if he is to come out of the dark spell he’s under, but who currently won’t come closer than ten paces away.