11. ELEVEN

eleven

NEVER BETTER

Present day.

The sun set an hour ago, the daylight faded to shadows. I’ve mapped out the military outpost from the outskirts. A crumbling stone wall encircles the outpost and beyond it are rows of tents, several fortified buildings, and collections of tables and barrels. An outlook tower faces north toward Dragon’s Back Ridge, stretching high above the rest of the settlement.

I creep closer to the outpost, my footsteps undetected in the clamor pulsing from the center of camp. Melting my body against the stone wall, I peer through a gaping hole. A group of men and women gather around a large crackling fire leaping into the night sky. My skin crawls, the flames triggering a wave of nausea inside my stomach.

A man clears his throat, and the group falls silent. “While he’s fairly new to the squad, I want to toast to our captain, Cole. With hard work and determination, anything is possible.”

The rest of the squad erupts in cheers. Cole grins, his head humbly lowered as people near him swing their mugs into his.

“To Cole!”

“Hurrah!”

The shadows accentuate each sharpened cut of his jaw. The glowing flames highlight the strong chords in his throat.

Gods, I’m mesmerized by the sight of him. Admiring his muscled features distracts me from the wicked flames.

Darian rises to his feet from across the group and strolls toward Cole. The group stills in anticipation. Cole watches warily, but his posture doesn’t falter or shift into one of defense.

Darian pours his flask into Cole’s mug, eyes trained on him in a silent challenge. “I like the way you try, Red.”

Cole narrows his eyes, raises the mug, and downs the entire thing in a few gulps. A satisfied exhale slips off his lips. “Thanks.”

Darian stares for a long moment with a venomous grin, before turning and slipping away from the group, disappearing farther into the camp. The rest of the squad eases, many of them smiling, laughing, and resuming their conversations.

Archie, who’s sitting next to Cole, wraps an arm around Cole’s neck. “Our fearless leader! Someday, I wanna be you when I grow up.”

Cole shakes his head with an embarrassed smile, murmuring as he playfully pushes Archie. The two of them drop into a hushed conversation when Daeja peers out through my hair, chirping.

Cole flashes a glance my way, and I duck behind the wall. Glancing sideways at Daeja, I hold a finger to my lips, and she slips back into my cloak. They couldn’t have possibly heard her, could they? I dare another peek and meet Cole’s gaze.

I freeze.

He flinches, the color in his face drains, his mouth parting open.

Shit, maybe this is a bad idea.

Archie jabs his elbow into Cole’s side, prompting him. Cole shakes his head, scattering his red hair. Unable to tear his eyes away from me, Cole pats Archie’s shoulder with a few mumbled words, and then walks in my direction.

My pulse spikes, and my plan for what I’ll say or do escapes me. Panicking, I dart back toward the forest.

I slip behind a tree and turn my focus to Daeja sitting on my shoulder. “I need you to understand me. You have to stay quiet. You stay hidden until I bring you out. Or we’re both dead.”

Her white eyes blink, and she bumps her forehead against mine.

Shuffling leaves whisper nearby, and I hurriedly tuck Daeja back behind my hair, securing my hood over my head. Edging around the tree, I catch a glimpse of Cole blundering through the forest, scanning the darkness through squinted eyes.

“Psst!” I hiss.

He stumbles, whipping toward my direction and eyes rounding as his gaze settles on me. “…Kat?”

I drift closer, stopping at an arm's-length from him.

Hesitantly, I reach out to touch his cheek. Surging relief and longing constricts my throat. My mind races with all the things I want to say: I’m sorry. I love you. All the ‘I shouldn’t haves’.

But I start with one word. “Hey.”

He leans his cheek into my hand, and I brush my thumb over his soft beard. His strong, calloused hand wraps around mine, his lips blooming into a sad smile. Taking my hand from his face, he kisses the back of my hand.

He breathes. “I miss you.”

Sadness, longing, and heartbreak fill those three words.

I take a half-step closer to him, and a sweet, metallic scent wafts over me. Daeja’s claws sink into my shoulder, reminding me I’m pushing my limits. This close to him, and I’m fighting against my desperation to touch him. To kiss him. Gods, and those incredibly warm eyes…

He sways too far to the left, and I catch him before he can fall.

“Are you...okay? Are you drunk?” I correct his stance back to a straight position. “Where are you staying?”

He points erratically in one direction, his intoxication now obvious. Looping my arm around his lower back, we return to the outpost. His focus shifts over to me with a lazy grin every few steps, his balance slipping and he nearly tumbles forward. I palm his chest, steadying him and praying he doesn’t fall.

“It’s been one hundred and forty-two days since I’ve told you how beautiful you are,” he slurs out.

I side-glance at him. Clearly, he’s too drunk for counting.

“There I am.” He nods toward a stone building near the western wall of the outpost.

“Is it safe?” I whisper.

He wraps his fingers around mine, both of our hands resting on his chest. “You’re with me. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

After I’ve checked the coast is clear, we slip into his quarters. We shut his door, ceasing the lull of chatter from those still gathered around the fire. I blink through the darkness of his room, my vision adjusting slowly. A bed layered with sheets folded into a neat press is tucked against the opposite wall. To the right, a wooden desk houses stacks of organized letters, a quill, and a half-empty glass bottle. To the left, an old, withered trunk is set on the ground, its lock gleaming in the darkness.

I help Cole to the bed, and he plops down on the mattress, his gaze clouded. Crouching, I unlace and pull his boots off as his eyes drag closed. I’ve never seen him in such a state-he’s always so perfectly composed.

“Cole?” I murmur.

He tips over, his thick brawny frame landing on the mattress with a thud. Eyes still closed, he mumbles back an incoherent response. His breathing slows as he drifts off into sleep.

Backing up slowly, I remove my cloak and pile it on top of the chair by the desk. Removing Daeja from my shoulders, I place her on my piled cloak and scratch her under the chin for a job well done. She kneads the material a few times, her claws ripping out strands of my cloak before curling her body into the fabric and settling into sleep. I rid my boots and slip into the sheets beside Cole. A smile pulls at my lips as I study him in the darkness.

I brush the red hair sweeping into his forehead back, tracing my fingertips over his cheekbone and jaw, skimming the edge of his beard. It makes him look so much…older. Dark lashes press against his freckled skin, and the strong bridge of his nose points down to his soft full lips. I kiss him, ever so gently I question if I’ve even touched him.

His lips quirk up into a grin, mumbling in drunken satisfaction. Shifting closer, he nuzzles into me. I rest my hand on the side of his face.

The sight of him chases away my fear and hesitations.

The feeling of his pulse beneath my hand is a sanctuary.

The sound of his steady, even breath, a lullaby.

The smell of him is home.

This is where I belong.

I fall asleep, and for the first time in a long time, I dream of home. But it isn’t engulfed in flames.

It’s me and Cole, rolling down the grassy hills near Padmoor as if we were kids again.