He blew out a breath. “Yeah, happens sometimes. Just a bad dream.” He pressed a kiss to her palm. “Less these rotations than before. For a while, the memories were back and uglier than ever.”
“Why do you think?”
He shrugged, but she could see by the way his jaw clenched he wasn’t as casual about the topic as he pretended to be. “It was hard caged below in the prison mines. I don’t like feeling helpless.”
He’d said so before and it made sense. He was so vital and dominant. It wasn’t in his blood to submit.
“That’s not only reason though?” She held her breath, wondering if he’d shut her down.
“No.” He rolled onto his back, but he took her with him so that his side was pressed to her front. “That’s not all. Finding Hope and Melody, seeing what happened to them and their mom and all the slaves.” He blew out a breath and stared up at the tent ceiling. “It hit close to home. Brought back memories better locked away for good.”
She fought the guilt, but she doubted that would ever fully go away. Now that she knew him, she couldn’t bear to think that she had helped to put him in that place.
“Do you think it is good to lock away bad memories?” She wondered the same about her own.
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “No idea. Probably not. I just do what works.”
Her heart ached for him. For the horror of it all. “How you kill your father?”
He tensed beside her. “I choked him to death the rotation my sister took her life. Used the very same rope. Seemed like fitting justice.”
“Grif.” She pressed closer to his side.
“I wasn’t caught. No one had cared what happened to a worthless drunk like him while he’d been alive. They cared even less about his death. I foraged on my own for a while, but was eventually found and sent to the orphan barracks. It was there I was recruited to join the Resistance.”
“You still a boy.”
“Yes, but I already knew what I was going to do. It’s why I became such a good tracker and hunter. Why I honed my fighting and killing skills and cultivated my interrogation abilities. I spent every breath of every lunar rotation doing whatever I could to learn how to track down bastards like my father before they hurt anyone else.” He sighed, his expression shifting to regret. “Somewhere along the way, though, things got twisted.” He grasped her chin and titled it up. “Somewhere along the way I ended up becoming the monster, and innocents like you paid the price.”
She shook her head. “I am no innocent. You no monster. And I am glad your father dead.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound entirely convinced by her defense. “Still feels like I failed my sister.”
His fierceness always aroused her, but it was these moments of vulnerability, this different sort of strength—when he faced his demons head-on and roared back at them—that she felt most aligned with him. As if their souls touched, the Ancients approved, and the universe grew less vast.
She did not know what love was, but the wild rush of sensations that swirled through her chest at this moment had to be close.
“You were a child. You did the best you could.”
He tugged her on top of him, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head. “Maybe.”
She liked the sensation of covering him. Of protecting him.
“You sister joined the Void. She at peace with the Ancients,” she told him. “Perhaps time you realize she want you to find peace, too.”
“I don’t know if I can. I’m my father’s son, after all.”
“I never knew that male, but he sound like true monster. When I look at you, I see only extraordinary male. One doing everything to protect those weaker. One who shoulders the weight of darkness and fights for innocent.”
“That’s a kind version.”
“It is truth.” Unable to contain the well of feelings in her chest any longer, she pressed her mouth to his. “I see reason to live and hope. I—”
A scream cut through the air. Along with hisses and growls and the pounding of six heavy paws.
“Sharluff!”
They scrambled out of the nest of blankets. She seized her coverings. Grif grabbed his rope and was gone.
By the time she cleared the opening, the tent next to hers had been trampled and Grif’s rope was looped around Sharluff’s neck, his muscles straining, heels sliding in the dirt, as her feathered pet reared up and Grif fought to keep the worked-up animal from breaking free once more.
A few arm’s lengths away, Malin stood in front of Lana and Cam, his ax up and ready to strike. Fresh red slashes marred his chest.
“Sharluff, naja!” She called her pet to heel, relieved that the sound of her voice settled him instantly.
Hurrying to Grif’s side, the sick sensation in her stomach grew. Pieces of tent lay strewn on the ground, along with destroyed rations and waterskins.
Moments before, she’d been so happy, almost at peace. Now this. She couldn’t imagine what had set Sharluff off, or how he’d gotten free of his tether in the first place.
“Is everyone all right?” Grif’s question jerked her from her thoughts, the calm in his voice centering her.
“No thanks to her.” Malin still hadn’t dropped his ax. More teammates, summoned by the noise, sprinted into view. All were in various states of dress, hair wild, weapons in hand, their expressions hard.
“Someone,” it was clear Malin meant her, “didn’t secure the leash properly and the beast got free. He almost ran over the tent with Lana and Britta still sleeping inside.”
More guilt slammed through Nayla. She’d been the one to tie her pet up. The knots had seemed so secure. She had been distracted though. Upset about what Lana had said and the thought of leaving Grif. Still, it was no excuse.
“That thing needs to be put down!” Malin’s anger was only growing.
“No.” She cried out.
“No,” Grif spoke at the same time. “You’ve seen how critical the animal is for navigating the underground waterways. It remains alive.”
Nayla was glad for his support.
“If none of us make it to the rescue,” challenged Malin, “it doesn’t really matter how good that thing is at getting us there, does it?”
“I will keep him under control.” It was hard to speak up, but she would not hide behind her mistakes.
“Like you did before?” Malin would not be appeased. “For all we know, this was done deliberately.”
“Enough.” Grif’s command allowed for no argument. “We’ll keep Sharluff farther from the tents from now on, and use extra care when leashing him for the night. What matters most is that we’re all okay.”
Relieved, Nayla nodded, but something in Grif’s gaze worried her all the same.
She followed his line of sight. He was staring at the others, studying each person with the same intensity he’d used when she was in his ropes.
Was he concerned they would believe Malin’s suggestion that she had purposely freed Sharluff? Or did Grif worry she had done something before she had gone off to try and sleep separately?
“We’ve wasted enough time,” Grif told the others. “Let’s clean up and clear out. Nothing is going to delay this mission.”