Page 56 of Red Marked
Something moves through the undergrowth to my right, and it doesn’t sound like an animal.
My heart takes off. Claws push at my fingertips before I catch them and pull them back.
The wind turns just enough.
Smoke, warm skin, and something masculine. It smells like Flint.
I grin, my shoulders relaxing just a touch.
Then I pull myself together.
He stops a few feet from the trunk and turns a slow circle, head tipped, nostrils flaring. He can’t find me. Good. The tree did its job.
I give a soft click of my tongue, the one we use in the caves, and his head snaps up.
“Up here,” I whisper.
Then I’m moving, hand over hand down the trunk, feet finding the knots and forks I mapped on the way up. I drop the last ten feet and land next to him without a sound.
His eyebrows lift, and he graces me with a crooked half-smile.
“You took your time,” I say, keeping my voice down.
“I had to get the females settled, and then I had to deal with the head of the center.” He glances back toward the lights.
“And? Did he fire you?”
“No. I somehow managed to sweet-talk him.”
I roll my eyes. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Are you okay?”
“My joints were starting to seize up, and I was starting to get worried you had left me out here.”
“You’ll soon realize that I’m a male of my word.”
I nod. “I’m glad.”
“Here.” He hands me a T-shirt. “Sorry. It’s all I have. Everything I own is going to swallow you whole, but it’ll do the job.”
I take it because he’s holding it out, not because I want it.
“I don’t need it.” I try to hand it back. “I’ll move better without it. Fabric catches on things. It makes noise.”
“Put it on, Star.” His voice is hard.
I hold his stare a beat longer, then shake the shirt out and pull it over my head. The collar catches on my hair. The hem stops just above mid-thigh.
The cotton drags against my skin every time I move.
“It feels weird. I haven’t worn clothing in a long time.”
“I know. You’ll get used to it.”
I nod, then roll my shoulders once and push it out of my mind.
“How are the Draig females?”
