She half marched, half limped her way back to the other side of the supplies.
He smothered a curse.
Change? To what?
For a male who liked control, who liked his path laid out and his choices black and white, the thought was not pleasant. He didn’t like being unsure. He didn’t like not having a clear plan.
But he did have determination—and the uncontrollable pull between them that flared even now.
That, at least, he could work with.
28
Nayla laid out the stalks she’d collected. She did her best to ignore the seething male whose gaze tracked her every move, a white-hot burn of awareness against her skin.
Even tied up, he assumed control.
No wonder. Every time she remembered how she’d panted and begged, thrusting her hips toward his thick, scarred fingers, she could barely breathe. Shame and need enough to drown her worse than Talg’s cleansings ever had.
Her captor had mastered her so easily, and the truth was, even now, she ached to follow his commands and feel his skin against hers.
No! She could not allow herself to be confused by his words or touch again.
Except she hadn’t expected him to kill for her. Or worry over her ankle.
She hadn’t expected her heart to slam against her chest when she thought Sharluff had hurt him. Or the fire between her thighs that sparked from simply looking at his wide chest, flexing muscles, and glittering predator eyes.
Ancients help her, she wanted to walk to where he sat, drop to her knees, and beg him to torment her like before. To take away the pain and confusion, if only for a few heartbeats, and replace it with sheer, uncomplicated pleasure. To make her writhe and beg and surrender to his strength and the bliss of his rough hands and rumbled commands.
She wanted to plead with him to turn his words into truth and make them into allies, to care for her, if only for a short while.
She’d been alone for so long, and his promises filled her with a sweetness more satisfying than a bellyful of the rarest taza berries.
But she could not afford to be so desperate for acceptance and approval that she made the same mistake she had with Talg, acquiescing to a stronger force simply because she feared being alone.
She could not afford to let her weaknesses distract her from the truth: Grif wanted to take away her choice. She refused to allow anyone to do that to her ever again.
Except it wasn’t easy. Not when he was leaning against the rock, his pose casual even as his gaze locked on to her. His skin glowing in the firelight, the position of his hands tied behind his back putting his chiseled chest and stomach on display, showcasing every astonishing muscle. His raw strength always made her lungs squeeze and her nipples tight.
“You almost done pretending to poke at that already flaming fire?” His amused words almost made her drop her flint. “We need to get cleaned up and hydrate. I have water in my pack. Though it won’t cool you off like I could.”
Ancients help her, he knew.
She should have expected no less. She’d never been able to keep secrets from him.
Purposely giving the fire a few more good pokes to keep the air circulating, she took the time to regain her composure before turning to face him.
“We save your water.” Rising, she went to free Sharluff from where she’d tied him. “He want to stop here, so water near. He good at find it.”
Calm. Reasonable. Commanding. She might have little experience with being in charge, but she was going to learn.
Grif wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this. He wanted to hold her. Touch her. Ease the ache he could tell was making her squirm, even now.
But that wasn’t happening anytime soon, especially with Nayla’s mountain-sized bodyguard nearby, watching his every move. He was going to have to do something about that animal at some point. But for now, his sole focus was on taming the other wild creature in his midst.
This caretaking business was as complicated as expected. He had no clue what she really wanted. Only that he was doing it wrong.
He hadn’t been able to get through to his sister, either. After that first time with their father, she’d just drifted farther and farther away. No matter how much he tried to take care of her. Near the end, she’d been like a walking zombie. He’d brushed her hair, fed her. It didn’t matter. Nothing roused her. Nothing brought her back to him. She’d been lost to him.
He could not allow that to happen with Nayla.
Panic rose, a feral beast that clawed up his chest and into his throat. He shoved it back down. Nayla wasn’t his sister and he wasn’t the weak young boy he’d been back then. He was stronger now, harder, more ruthless. He could take care of Nayla far better than he ever had his sister.
He just had to make her see that.
At Nayla’s command, the creature squawked and shied to the side, sticking his long, sharp beak between two rock crevices, rooting back and forth.
Squawk. The sharp sound drew his full attention. A few more pokes with that long beak and a small bubble of dirt shot upward, followed by a stream of pink water. It gushed upward, far above his head, sending moon-kissed water droplets shimmering in the air before arcing downward to soak new ground.
“Holy hells.” Grif’s resentment toward the feathered beast lessened. After the fight, Nayla was covered in dirt and bruises and he suspected he had splatters of blood on him, too. A real shower would be amazing.
He shoved to his feet. “He really is good at that.” It had to be an underground well, close enough to the surface for the beast to smell. A neat trick, especially in an environment like Dragath25. He and his crew had assumed this place was dry as a desert. Turns out they hadn’t been looking in the right places, or known there were animals that were useful for more than food.
“Yes.” Nayla looked proud. “Sharluff clever.”
They both watched Mr. Clever pace through the self-made fountain, feathers ruffling, his beak poking at the air. Then, with a sharp series of clicks, Nayla called her beast to heel and turned to him. “You go.”
“You first.”
She gave him another look, but this time she didn’t argue. Instead, she limped her way to the stream of liquid and, turning so that her side was to him, she cupped her hands directly in it, splashing herself while the spray from the jet cascaded downward, falling on her like an Old Earth shower he’d seen in history vids.
Ingenious. There was a lot to be learned from this female about surviving on this planet.
Such thoughts were soon forgotten.
The water turned her shirt near transparent, making it cleave to her golden skin, offering him a perfect view of a tight, honeyed nipple and sloping breast bathed in moonlight.
He’d never envied a drop of water before. He did now.
Until he noticed how hard she was scrubbing, even after the dirt was gone.
“You look pretty clean to me.” He kept his voice low and soothing as he approached.
She didn’t stop. Or look his way.
“They’re dead. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
She shrugged and he realized he’d guessed wrong.
“Was that the first time you’ve killed?”
Her breathing hitched.
“I remember my first kill.” He moved around the jet of water until he was facing her head-on. “It haunted me for a long time. But it had to be done. Same with yours. You did what you had to do to survive, and that’s a good thing. You can’t imagine the shitstorm I will reign down on this world if you aren’t in it.”