Prisoner of Night (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #16.5)(31)

Are you okay?

Yes, are you?

Who had asked that first? Maybe it had been at the same time, and as for answers, were they both lying? She had been—she hadn’t been okay and wasn’t now—but the last thing she wanted was for him to feel compelled to take care of her.

As it was oh so very clear he was the one who needed to be looked after.

Maybe Duran was right. Maybe she was a healer at her core and so the idea that he’d had to hurt himself to orgasm made her heart ache.

Or perhaps her compassion was less to do with who she was than how she felt about him. Somehow, in the quiet moments in the bunker, she’d gotten attached to Duran, proof positive that emotional ties could strengthen in two ways: amount of time together or intensity of experience. And no one could argue they weren’t in that second bucket of relationship building.

“You all set?”

When he spoke behind her, she jumped—like he might read her mind and know what she was thinking of. Covering her tracks, she made a show of turning around and facing him head-on, as if she didn’t have things she wanted to hide from him, things like how she was worried about him. As well as sad, heartbreaking questions about what those guards might have done to him—

Oh, to hell with that, she knew what had been done to him. He’d told her he wasn’t a virgin, and she feared that was only partially true. The wonder and surprise he’d shown when he’d entered her had clearly been because, at least in that way, it had been his first time.

Are you okay?

Yes, are you?

As their eyes met, everything about Duran was remote, his expression, his stare, even his big body, which somehow seemed totally self-contained. He’d cut off his hair—his lush, beautiful hair—in a series of hacks with her hunting knife, and she had to ignore the way the lengths lay on the floor like trash. Like they didn’t matter. Like they hadn’t been a part of him, grown from him and now ruined.

Then again, the circumstances under which—

“Are you ready,” he prompted again.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, I am.”

He nodded and entered a code on a panel. There was a hiss, and her nose tingled as the smell of the cave, of wet dirt and old mold, entered like it had wanted to come inside all along and conquer new, previously denied territory.

Ahmare went first without waiting for a plan from him. She just needed some fresh air, and she almost made it all the way through the tight-squeeze of the cave. Before she was out, though, Duran caught her by the shoulder, dropping his hold the second she stopped.

“I need to go first,” he whispered. “If you get killed because Chalen’s guards are waiting for us, or the Dhavos knows we’re here, no one’s saving your brother.”

“And if you get killed, I have no clue where I’m going.”

“I’m going first. Wait for my signal.”

As he pushed past her and stepped out into the humid night, she stuck right on his heels, a gun in one hand, her knife in the other. That trigger box, which she now hated, was holstered at her waist. She’d thought about leaving it behind because she was not worried about him turning on her. Still, he might run off, or at least try to, although she didn’t want to think about dropping him to the ground just to keep him with her—

Duran stopped short and glared at her. “What the hell are you doing?”

Even though he was talking softly, his expression put plenty of volume in his words.

“I’m not getting left behind.”

He pointed over her shoulder. “Get back in there.”

“No.” She met him right in the angry eye. “And PS, I’m not some young for you to order around, so you can cut that attitude right now.”

“You think I’m going to take off on you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re lying. And I gave you my word.”

You told me you wouldn’t hurt me, she thought. Not the same.

“I need you,” she said. “That’s my reality. You want to talk about trust? Then tell me where we’re going—”

Abruptly, they both looked up the mountain flank at the same time. The scents of three males were obvious in the descending breeze.

The prisoner took her arm in a hard grip and pulled her behind a hemlock tree. “You get your ass back in there and let me take care of this.”

“No.” She glared at him. “I’m a helluva shot. You need me even if your ego says you don’t—and spare me the he-man bullcrap.”

Tension crackled between them, made worse because there were so many things unsaid.

“I’m not arguing with you,” he said.

“Good, the less we talk, the better.”

He clearly meant it in the other way, as in there was no discussion because he was right and that was that. But surprise! Free will applied to females, too—

“Hold on,” she said as she refocused on the trees ahead. “They’re shifting their positions.”

Duran got quiet, narrowing his eyes even though his nose, like hers, was what was doing the work.

Sure enough, the scents were coming at a different angle now and not because she and Duran had jumped behind the hemlock.

“You said Chalen tried to get the location of his beloved from you.” She kept her voice down. “So assuming they’re his guards, they’re just tracking us. They’re not going to kill us—at least not until we lead them where Chalen wants to go himself.”