Page 22 of Redemption in the Dark (The Righteous 5)
“What are we going to do for food,” Maeve asked, pulling him out of the little fantasy that was taking on a life of its own.
“I have a few tricks up my sleeve, and we have the crappy provisions you grabbed. We’ll make do. It’s more important to be alive than well fed.”
“True enough. Can I ask you a question,” Maeve asked and again peeked over her shoulder, her face so close to his that it wouldn’t have taken much to capture her lips. He nodded, not trusting his voice as he stared into her eyes. “How did you get the name Wolf? I mean, did your parents just really like the animal or something?”
He smiled at the question.
“My father is Indigenous—Cherokee, to be precise. I was named after my father’s family heritage. My mother teased that I was born howling at the moon and that I was better suited to growing up in the wilderness from the day I was born. I was apparently quite the wild child when I was little.”
“I like that,” she said. “I don’t know who my parents are. Yours sound awesome. I have to say that I find it hard to believe that they called you Wolf because you were a wild child.”
“You don’t think I was wild as a child? What makes you say that?”
She shrugged. “I’ve just gotten good at reading people, and you don’t seem like the type to run away or skip school to do drugs. And you definitely don’t seem like the type to attend crazy parties and dance on tables.”
Wolf laughed at the image of him on a table dancing. That wouldn’t have happened.
“That’s all true. I preferred to be on the land and work or read or ride. Nature and learning to be at one with it have always been my pastime. Getting blitzed out of my mind drunk was never appealing.”
Maeve sighed, and even though he couldn’t see all of her face, there was a sadness coming off of her that pulled at his soul.
“I wish I’d been more like that. I tended to act out.” She chuckled, but the sound was heavy with sadness. “Who am I kidding? I still act out. I mean, I had reasons, but still, I wish I’d found a different way.” Maeve shrugged. “Enough about me. Tell me more about you.”
He wanted to press and know more about what made this fascinating woman tick.
“Well, my actual name is Waya which means wolf, but I changed it to the English version once I started school.”
She leaned back to rest against his chest, and it felt oddly perfect holding her, yet he knew it was very wrong. He licked his lips to help wet his suddenly dry mouth as he pictured dropping his head to the soft part of her neck and breathing in the sweet scent that seemed just to be her. She had her own wild scent around her, which reminded him of berries.
“I like how you say your real name. It’s beautiful and sexy,” Maeve said and tilted her chin up to look at him.
He couldn’t look at her face too closely, or he was going to lose some of his control. He could still taste her on his lips from the brief kiss they’d shared, and now all he wanted was more.
“Why did you change it?”
“Bullies mostly. Didn’t have the best time in public school, and Wolf was easier for people to say and accept. I was young and didn’t see a difference. I didn’t realize that by changing it the way I had, I hurt my father and thumbed my nose at my heritage. At the time, I simply wanted to fit in and not be an outcast.” It was his turn to lift his shoulder and let it drop. “You do stupid things when you want to fit in. By the time I came around to the idea, everyone was calling me Wolf, and I just left it.”
“I totally understand. My whole life has become one big session of trying to fit where I never belonged. So was your dad angry with you, or is he still angry?”
“No, he understood, but I knew it hurt him. So when I go home to visit, I make sure my family calls me by my real name.”
They rode in silence for a long time, then Maeve cleared her throat.
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of your name,” she said. “Can I call you by that when we’re alone?” He looked into her eyes then, and an image flashed before his eyes of a screaming child pulled from their bed. He blinked as his pulse pounded hard in his ears.
“Are you okay,” Maeve asked. “I don’t have to call you that if you don’t want me to.”
“Maybe we should wait on that. You may decide you hate me before this ride is over.”
He swallowed down the lump in his throat. He’d always been empathetic, but this was different. It was like her sheer presence showed him something he didn’t understand. Maeve opened her mouth to say something else, and he placed a finger over her lips.
“Shhh.”
He focused hard on the sound of the chirping birds and rustling of the leaves in the trees. He could hear the sound as clearly as the vibration the helicopter’s blades made in his chest when it got close. It was definitely a helo and not a medivac or news copter by the sound of it. He gave Viho a nudge to quicken his pace into the thicker part of the tree cover, bringing him to a halt. He stared up at the dense canopy and hoped it was enough not to be seen.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Do you hear the helicopter?”
