Page 44 of Beautiful Prey

Dead roots hang down from the torn plate, dry where the rain hasn’t reached, and there’s an old scorch-ring on the clay where somebody sheltered here before us. I break off some of the driest root-wood and get a fire going in the old ring while the Adjudicator lowers himself against the wall. The wood catches quickly. Wind drives sand through the entrance in pale ribbons that hiss across the clay before dying against the flames.

Every few moments, the ground trembles beneath my knees as dust drifts from the tangled roots overhead, and I find myself listening for the hillside to stop collapsing.

It doesn’t.

I lower my pack beside the fire and look at him. This isn’t how today was supposed to end. I was supposed to reach the next checkpoint.

Instead, I’m sharing a shelter with an injured Adjudicator, one who’s been on my mind ever since he first laid eyes on me.

Don’t panic, Jade. One problem at a time.

Kneeling beside my pack, I start digging through it.

Rainwater still drips from the edge of his cloak. His breathing has slowed, but now and then one catches hard enough to make his hand tighten against his side.

He’s watching me. Of course he is.

I reach for the med-kit clipped to his belt, but his hand closes around my wrist.

“Planning to rob me now?”

“I’m trying to get to the bandages.” I glance at how he’s holding his side. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about letting me take care of you.”

“Take care of me.” He repeats the words as if testing them, then a low chuckle catches in his chest. “That’s a dangerous thing to offer someone.”

I frown. “Why? It’s just a bandage.”

His mouth curves. “Is that what you think we’re talking about?”

“Yes?”

The answer comes too quickly. Something shifts low in my stomach, a strange swoop that has nothing to do with exhaustion. Somehow, he always manages to throw me off.

His thumb slides lazily off my wrist. “Light, you really are innocent.”

My face heats. “I am not.”

“No?” He rests his head against the wall. “Do people not date on Calder? No boyfriends? Has anyone ever looked at you and wanted anything more than conversation?”

I stare at him for a second, then reach for the buckle under his chin instead.

If he wants to keep talking that way, that’s his problem. I have a storm to survive, a Hunt to finish, and a brother to get back to.

And apparently a head to get straightened, because I should not be looking at his mouth.

“Hold still.”

“Hm. Bossy.”

“I’m not, but your visor’s cracked.”

“So? It still works.”

I sigh. “I’m just checking your head.”

“You worried about me now, or are you curious about how I look? I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

I can hear the amusement in his voice. My body reacts before my head does, my nerves prickling.