“No,” he snapped.

I shot him a saccharine smile. “I can dress myself then.”

He tossed the clothes onto the bed, but didn’t claw back his magic. “Try, then.”

Rather than turn my back to him, I eased my way to the leathers, first finding the underclothes and attempting to shimmy the panties up my legs. With the thin fabric, it was far easier than when I tried to do the same with the tight pants. Stuck just past my knees, I wobbled, then pitched into the bed, catching myself in my injured shoulder.

“Fuck,” I hissed as pain lanced up my arm.

Rokath’s patience snapped and he stalked forward. “Lie back.”

I fucking hated that I obeyed and let him pull the pants up and fasten them for me. Hated him even more for the tender way he fastened every scrap of fabric to my body. A grumble slipped out of him as his hands moved to the wrap that immobilized my arm. “I have to undo this part momentarily so you can slip the tunic on. Hold still and I’ll support your arm.”

I ignored him and let him work over me, since my injuries were mostly his fault anyway.

I wouldn’t have run if I felt like I was wanted. I wouldn’t have run from Izgath in the same situation.

Again, the thought of him renewed my hatred for Rokath. I couldn’t let myself slip into this lust-fueled fantasy that we’d live happily ever after at the end of the war.

At least Rokath worked quickly, and before long, he finally got the fuck away from me. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and nearly choked when I saw the day and time. “I slept for three days?”

“More like two and a half, since it was late when you ran and it is early now,” he pointed out, pulling on the rest of his clothes and strapping the black metal armor over his legs.

I could only blink at him. All Rokath cared about was rejoining the rest of the army, and yet, we’d stayed in place for multiple days because I was unconscious. And I’d been an asshole to him about it before when he’d asked me if I could ride today. Guilt knotted my stomach. “What about–but–you wanted–”

“I didn’t want to leave your side,” he grunted, fastening the clasps on his shoulder. “I sent most of the army ahead, since we can travel faster with a smaller group,” he added, grabbing his helmet and settling it over his brow. Then, he found a scarf and tossed it in my direction. “The sun will be strong today. I suggest you drape accordingly so your arms don’t burn either.”

Without another word, he left me sitting in stunned silence, not even the hounds to keep me company. From beyond the walls of my prison, murmurs drifted into my ears, followed by sharp whistles I’d come to know as the signal to start packing up. When a young male stuck his head in, I finally rose and let him ferry our belongings to a waiting wagon. Blaeze was tied there as well, and I went to my sturdy steed, petting him on the nose while what remained of the camp broke down.

Rokath wasn’t lying when he said the sun was strong. Even in the early morning, it scorched my skin, and I wrapped the scarf around my head in such a way it covered most of my shoulders and arms if I tucked them close to my body. Unfortunately, my mate had to help me onto Blaeze’s back, and I tried to ignore the fire where our skin touched as he settled me in place.

Tried even harder to ignore him as we rode for the day.

Tried my hardest to ignore the tangled mess of emotions about my entire situation.

Did Rokath want me or not? Did I want him to want me? Did I want him?

I knew one thing for certain, though, as pain flared with every jostle of my arm or squeeze of my calf. I would not try to run again.

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44

“Here you go, Assyria,” Rapp said, sliding a bowl of steaming food toward me. The war camp’s gruel had a pungent odor to it, one that made me scrunch up my nose. I hadn’t had much of an appetite since my injuries, which the lead healer said was normal with the anti-venom they had to give me after the cobra sank its fangs into me.

I glanced sidelong at Rokath, the male who had, in fact, saved my life. I didn’t dare think it was because he held any affection toward me, but merely a result of his selfish desire to remain alive and healthy to defeat the Angels.

Except without him every one of us would be dead.

That explanation Xannirin had given me still didn’t remove the hurt from the wound of being trapped against my will again and unwanted.

My right arm was still strapped to my side, which meant I also had to eat the food with my non-dominant hand. Four days wasn’t nearly enough time to rid myself of the clumsiness that came along with it. As I lifted the spoonful of slop to my mouth, I leaned forward and opened my mouth. But I misjudged the distance, and the spoon skidded off the side of my face, plastering it with the sticky substance before flipping out of my hand and landing on the ground.

Grem and Zeec leaped on the food before I could bend down and pick it up. “At least I don’t have to clean up my mess,” I shrugged when Rokath shot me a side-eyed glare and shooed them back to their cushions. Rapp giggled like a youngling at the whole interaction.

That Rokath had taken to eating with Rapp and me was a surprise. That he’d slept with me at night ever since my attempted escape was another. Though I didn’t think it was because he thought I’d try to sneak away again. No, there was something else to it, something I didn’t know how to—or want—to name.

Over the past few days, I’d sensed a shift in his emotions. Brushing down the bond, I had tried to sift through the sands of his feelings in an attempt to reveal what lay underneath them, hidden by his enigmatic exterior. What I found only compounded the disorienting twister of my own. The yearning for freedom hadn’t disappeared, and yet I found myself considering if Rokath could offer me more autonomy, albeit in his own way.

“Here, you can have mine,” Rokath said, offering me his utensil.

“Don’t you need to–” I cut myself off when I saw his bowl was empty. “It’s already been in your mouth.”

A snort escaped him, and he raised a single brow. “We’ve shared bodily fluids before.”

Another chuckle drew my attention to Rapp, whose tongue flicked over the ring in his lip as his burgundy eyes bounced between Rokath and me. My cheeks flamed as I tried and failed to come up with an excuse to get out of accepting his spoon. There was something…oddly intimate about it.

I squirmed in my seat, then adjusted my injured arm. “I’m not that hungry.”

What I wouldn’t give for an apple I could eat one handed.

A juicy, crisp one at that.

He tsked, like he was disappointed in me, then thrust the smooth metal into my hand. “Eat. You need to regain your strength.”

“Rokath is right, unfortunately. If you want to run away again, you’ll need more energy. Especially out in the desert,” Rapp added, grinning maliciously. After spending a few weeks with the male and watching how he interacted with Rokath, I understood why they were friends.

Where Rokath’s fiery temper and unyielding seriousness could scorch a room, Rapp’s irreverent jokes and sardonic humor cooled the flames. Though both had a touch of madness about them, which was what I assumed brought them together in the first place. Like calling to like, and all that.

Over the course of our time together, Rapp had revealed that he came from an abusive household and that joining the army was his means of snatching freedom for himself. As one of the few burgundy-eyed soldiers, he’d stood out and been endlessly tormented by those with lesser power until Rokath had intervened. That Rokath was capable of such kindness had shocked me, but Rapp swore he had layers he rarely showed to the outside world.