“It’s all right,” I say, doing my best to keep my tone light. “I’ve certainly had worse.”
Aiden turns his head to look at me, his eyes studying my face, and it’s only then that I realize he’s no longer the only one without a hat.
“Suppose you have,” he says, and I know he’s seen the scars on my face before I have a chance to reach for my hat where it lies a few feet away. Clearing my throat to cover another sound of discomfort at the movement, I put it back on my head without bothering to dust it off.
“Cypress,” he says, a hint of something in his voice that lands harder than any punch he could throw. “Why is it you never fight back?”
“I fought back,” I tell him. “Did you not see me as we were riding—”
“I saw you,” he affirms, and I really try not to read too much into his tone. “You fought them, but you don’t…you don’t fightme.”
I only glance at him, still feeling too exposed to fully look his way. “Sure I do. See, we’re disagreeing right now.”
“I’m not talkin’ about a disagreement,” he corrects, and while he may not like answering direct questions, he certainly doesn’t seem to mind posing them. “Since we met, I’ve threatened to shoot you, to stab you. I’ve clocked you in the face.”
“Twice.”
“Twice,” he amends. “You never try to hit me back. Why is that?”
For a few seconds, I contemplate giving him a far more complicated answer, something that will keep him stewing over it whenever we finally get to sleep, but since I don’t think either of us have the energy for that, I ultimately decide on the simple truth. “I don’t want to.”
“Why? I’ve given you plenty reason to.”
“You’ve also given me plenty reason not to.”
“Not from where I sit.”
“Then sit somewhere else,” I say, repeating his words from only an evening ago, though it feels like much longer. “I don’t want to hurt you, wolf. So I don’t.”
Despite my best efforts, this still appears to give him something to mull over, because he’s quiet again for a while, and I find I’m starting to mind it less. The quiet. When he’s here in it with me.
“There are others you do want to hurt though,” he says at last. Not an accusation this time, only a statement of fact. “People like the ones we had chasing us. People like Maddock.”
“Yes,” I say. “And I do. Hurt them, I mean.”
“Seems silly to ask why…”
“You still can.”
He frowns as he stares down at the ground. “Another time.”
“There going to be one?”
He faces me again, and this time, I let him, because however much it would kill me to have him look at me and leave now, I suspect it will only hurt more later.
“Probably makes good sense. To stick together for a while,” he finally says, dragging a hand through his hair and tugging at the ends while at the same time sending my heart into such a frenzy that I almost feel compelled to start humming so he won’t hear it. “At least until we figure out what sort of hell Maddock is going to bring down on us.”
I nod, not trusting myself with much more than that.
“Cypress.”
“Hm?”
“This partnership you’re suggesting…I won’t kill anyone for you,” he says, quieter than his usual tone. “I can’t.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
His mouth presses into a firm line but then he nods, too. “Then we’re agreed. For now.”