Refugee (The Captive #3)(63)
“And you accept this?”
“It’s what I came to you for,” she breathed half fearful he would tell her no; half fearful he would refuse to be the one to do it. She’d taken a risk coming to him for this; it could all backfire on her.
“No one else can know about this.” There it was then, the deal had been struck. If another vampire’s blood, and distance, did not break Braith’s ability to track her they both understood what would have to happen.
She would die, and Gideon would be the one to do it.
“They won’t,” she vowed.
CHAPTER 17
“Would you like to take a walk?”
Aria turned away from the window she had been staring out. She was doing everything she could to keep up a brave front, to keep smiling, and to act normal. But it was so hard, harder than anything she’d ever done in her life. They were leaving tomorrow; she was actually looking forward to plunging back into those hideous swamps. At least it would help keep her mind off of everything and it meant they would be getting closer to the war, a war she desperately wanted over.
Braith was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His dark hair was disheveled and there was actually an amused gleam in his eyes as he lazily perused her. Heat flooded her body, her toes curled as that look seemed to sear right through her clothes and straight into her flesh. It took everything she had to focus her attention on his words again.
She frowned in confusion at the book clasped carelessly in his elegant fingers. Then she recalled that she’d been the one to take it from Gideon’s home. She’d forgotten that she even had it, but he must have found it in her bag.
It was Ivanhoe; she knew that without having to see the title. It was the first book they had read together, the one that he had taught her how to read with. She had vowed that she wouldn’t cry anymore, she’d chosen her path, but even so she battled against the tears that threatened to break free at the sight of that book and the memories it elicited.
“Jack tells me there’s a lake close by.”
“There is,” she confirmed.
He smiled. “Then let’s go explore it.”
They had so little time left; she was not going to spend it moping. She was going to cherish every moment, not cry and ruin everything from here on out. “I’d love to.”
Her legs trembled as she stood, she’d been sitting for awhile, but she recovered quickly and was smiling at him as she took his hand. “I never knew you were a thief.”
She laughed as he waved the pilfered book in front of her face. “I forgot I even had it,” she admitted.
“I’m sure.”
They didn’t talk as they moved through the woods, they didn’t have to. Aria inhaled the scents of the forest, relishing in them. Beneath the leaves, dirt, and musty animals, she could also pick up the hint of fresh water and fish. It was wonderful.
The lake emerged from the woods, shimmering in the early morning sunlight. She wanted nothing more than to jump into it, swim to the middle and float there for hours. She longed to feel joy over something so simple. Joy she was frightened she would lose when all of this was over.
Braith sat with his back against a tree; the dark glasses remained blessedly removed from his magnificent face. His smile was one of the most wonderful things she’d ever seen. It was indolent at the moment and focused solely upon her as he held his hand out. He pulled her smoothly into his lap, settling her securely against him as he rested his chin on her head and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist.
“I thought you could use a break.”
“I could,” she admitted. “But you could also.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes as she reveled in the solid, reassuring feel of his body. He was beautiful. This entire moment was beautiful. She wanted to pretend that it was one of many, that there were endless days before them to sit together, read together, and simply enjoy the company of each other. To pretend that there wasn’t a clock ticking steadily away at their remaining time.
She kept her eyes closed as her fingers curled against him. He opened the book and began to read to her. She loved the sound of his voice, the deep timbre of it, the rich tones and subtle nuances he inflected into the story. She knew this story almost by heart but she still loved to hear him reading it. Listening to his voice had become her favorite pastime while in the palace.
His voice became tired after awhile, she opened her eyes, sitting up as she took the book from him and continued reading. She was about halfway through the book when she realized that he had worked the braid from her hair. His attention was riveted on it as he spread it across her shoulders and played idly with the ends.
Her throat went dry as she lifted her gaze to his. The book in her lap was forgotten as she focused upon those beautiful gray eyes with the bright blue band encircling the pupil. Though they were over a hundred years old, the faint white scars around his eyes were still visible.
Her fingers trembled as she traced the jagged edges of the marks that had left him blind until she had come along.
He took hold of her hand and pressed a tender kiss against her fingertips. Her body tingled with excitement. She was suddenly breathless, suddenly aching and vulnerable as his mouth moved steadily lower, across her palm to press gently against her wrist. She couldn’t move. She was caught by the love he stirred in her. She watched in fascination while he pushed her sleeves back and continued further up her arm.