Adamek stares at her fingers, lids half shut, as Nazirah shyly snakes a hand inside his jeans. He groans before catching her wrist and pulling it away. She looks at him curiously. “Next time princess, I promise.” Adamek crosses both of Nazirah’s hands over her head. He takes his time, worshipping her with his mouth, kissing every inch of her trembling body. Stripping off the rest of his clothes, he lies over her, propped up on his forearms. Their limbs entwined, eyes locked, Nazirah sees the fear on his face, hesitation clear.
“Tell me this is wrong,” he begs.
“It’s not.”
“Tell me to stop.”
“I won’t.”
And to show him she really means it, Nazirah takes his hand in hers. She purposefully kisses each knuckle, callous, and bruise. She kisses the back, kisses the scratches, making sure that he knows … that he understands.
She wants to be with him, as he is.
Adamek looks at her, humbled. Nazirah watches the transformation of his face. She sees the hesitation evaporate … change to determination … to intention. He kisses her one last time. It is passionate and lingering and sure. “Bite my shoulder,” he says.
She does, hard.
He rips through her.
She screams into his skin.
He stays there, motionless, muscles tense. He kisses her tears until it doesn’t hurt anymore, until the pain falls away. Nazirah won’t realize until later that the armor she has worn for so long has fallen with it, gone to pieces with their clothes on the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nazirah awakens a few hours later with the rising dawn, blinking back dreams. Sitting up slowly, she hugs the bed sheet to her chest. Her muscles scream and she aches everywhere. She scans the disorderly room. Shards of glass and discarded clothes litter the floor. Adamek sleeps beside her on his stomach, arm under head, breathing steady. Her eyes trace his silhouette – across broad shoulders, over the blades of his back, down the dusza and lower, where sheets tangle around legs. Nazirah stares at his face, so innocent in sleep, and she waits. She waits and waits and waits for the regret to come.
It doesn’t.
Nazirah dangles her legs over the side of the bed, trying not to wake him. She picks her bra off a wayward pillow and hooks it on, followed by the amnesty pendant. She scans the floor for her panties, only to remember they now reside in Adamek’s pocket. Blushing furiously, Nazirah pulls on her jeans and shirt.
And still the regret stays away.
She rises, wincing as the mattress creaks and moans. A hand catches her wrist, stopping her, pulling her back. She turns around. Adamek is propped up on his elbow, watching her. His hair is mussed, but his eyes are sharp. She should have known he could never sleep through her clumsy, morning-after fumbling.
Nazirah coughs awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Thanks for the sex? Sorry I tried to kill you? Off to war we go? She sticks with what she knows.
“Hey.”
Hey?
Nazirah casts her eyes upwards in exasperation. She can practically feel his smirk. “Hey,” he replies.
“I was just going to, um, shower before the meeting.”
Adamek weaves his fingers through hers, dragging her body over his. “You can shower here,” he says.
“You’re naked,” she mumbles.
“I am?”
“Shut up.” She laughs, stretches, rubbing her feet into his calves. He holds her waist, his large hand spanning her back. “My clothes are in my room.”
“You can wear mine.”
“Aldrik would just love that,” she says, rolling her eyes. Nazirah notices her bite mark on his left shoulder, above the bandage, still tender. “Is that from me?” she asks, embarrassed.
“It truly is a lucky arm now,” he whispers. “Stay with me.”
“You’re making it so hard,” she sighs.
He grins, pulling her hand under the sheets, way below his navel. Nazirah flushes scarlet. “That’s kind of the point,” he says.
“I have to go.”
She kisses his forehead chastely, his cheek, his other cheek, the corner of his mouth. He pulls her chin, not so chaste anymore, meeting her full on the lips. Kissing Adamek in the light of day, when Nazirah can’t blame it on the night, is perfect. It’s decadent and indulgent. Nazirah smiles into his lips and he smiles back.
“See you later, Nation.”
Nazirah slowly untangles herself, finally rising from the bed. She grabs her dagger from the floor and picks up her shoes. She turns around before leaving, flashing Adamek an adorable grin. “See you later, Morgen.”
She won’t.
But they don’t know that yet.
Outside his door, Nazirah laces her boots, sticking the dagger in one of them. It’s still relatively dark outside, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. She walks across the hanging bridges towards her room, taking her time, smiling against her better judgment. Nazirah doesn’t know what to make of last night, of them, of it all. But, regardless of sore muscles, she feels good. Like life is somehow a little brighter than it was yesterday. She has changed.
Only God knows if it’s for the better.
Whistling idly, Nazirah enters her room. She stops, song dying abruptly on her lips. Ramses sits on her bed, entirely disfigured but entirely too well. “Don’t stop on my account, Nazirah,” he jeers, holding an assault rifle in his bandaged hands. “You know how I love music.”
The door is kicked shut. Nazirah whirls around as the butt of a pistol cracks down on her skull. She collapses to the ground. The last thing she sees before losing consciousness is Mather Grum standing over her smugly.
“Say hello to your fucking enemy.”
#
Nazirah slowly regains consciousness, holding on desperately to blissful oblivion. Like none of it’s really happening. Like she’s still safe in a green-eyed embrace. Her body has other plans. It snatches ephemeral feelings from the atmosphere, making them real.
First pain.
Then panic.
Nazirah awakens fully to find she’s slumped against a vibrating wall. Holding a hand to her blood-caked, throbbing head, Nazirah looks around groggily, fighting to stay calm. She’s moving, trapped inside a freight train compartment, surrounded by piles of lumber. Nazirah cannot see outside, but she feels wheels grinding beneath her and the distinct rumble of the train lurching forward. One of her hands is handcuffed to a metal pole which runs vertically floor to ceiling. Nazirah bangs on the pole, contorting her hand, struggling to free herself. She grabs the dagger from her boot, grateful neither Ramses nor Grum noticed it, trying in vain to pick the lock.
“Help!” she screams, rattling her handcuffs. “Somebody!”
Her voice sounds flat, strangled, absorbed into the wood.
“It’s useless,” a voice says to her left. Nazirah turns her head, seeing Lumi and Taj bound by twine around a wooden pillar several feet away. Lumi has a black eye and a split lip. Taj’s face is swollen, one of his arms perversely bent.
“What’s happening?” Nazirah cries.
“We don’t know,” Taj gasps. “We were walking back from the bonfire last night when Grum attacked us, with another guy. We couldn’t fight them off! We’ve been trapped here all night.” He struggles to stave off the pain of his broken arm. “They dragged you in a few hours ago, and then the train started moving.”
“That other guy is Ramses,” Nazirah says, trying to formulate some sort of escape plan. “He’s the one who tried to kill me.”
“Apparently he’s not done trying.”
Nazirah ignores Lumi. Even in the direst situation, she could still be gratingly annoying.
“He really hates you, Nazirah,” Taj wheezes. “You should have heard him before.”
“I can imagine,” she says, banging her handcuffs again.
“He wants to bring you down,” Lumi continues, “and Adamek too. Ramses is helping the Medis at the expense of his entire territory! He’s completely deranged, doped up on every kind of MEDIcine out there. I don’t know how he can even stand with half of his face caved in like that!”