“The beast could be leading her,” Best acknowledged thoughtfully.
“She’s a mage.”
“Yes, sir.” Clearly, in Best’s mind, a potential beast outweighed an actual mage.
“Let’s head back. We’ll try again at first light. She’s exhausted, she can’t have gone far.” If she’d collapsed under a bush, or in a hollow behind a fallen branch, they’d never find her in the dark. Once she’d stopped moving, they’d had very little chance. Even given the small amount of time he’d spent with her, he should have known she’d keep her head and not flail about in panic, allowing herself to be recaptured.
He checked his compass bearing—the dot of luminescence on the magnetic needle proof Imperial army scientists weren’t completely useless—and led the way back to the camp. As he slipped the compass into his tunic pocket, his fingers touched the strand of hair he’d pulled from the tangle.
“They’re gone.” Tomas kept his fingers pressed against her mouth for a moment longer, withdrew them hurriedly when her lips began to draw back. She wasn’t Pack, but that was a Pack reaction and even blunted teeth hurt. Given her previous reactions, he had no doubt she’d bite if he pushed. He guessed he liked that about her although she’d be easier to rescue were she more compliant. “We’ll rest here until dawn. Even if they keep hunting, they’ll never find us. Not in the dark and probably not in the light.” The lingering scent of its previous occupant had led him to the cave; no one in the Imperial army had any kind of a nose.
He could hear her breathing. She didn’t sound panicked, or shocky. She sounded tired.
“I’ll escort you back to Aydori in the morning,” he continued when it became clear she wasn’t going to speak. As soon as she was safe, he’d pick up the trail of the four Imperials and hunt them in turn. They were the enemy. They were part of the army who’d destroyed the Hunt Pack, killed his brother, and forced their way over the border into Aydori. They were only alive now because the girl needed him.
The girl who smelled so, so good.
He inhaled the scent along the soft curve of her neck, nuzzled into the hollow of her jaw, rutted once against her leg, unable to stop himself and…
…and…
“I’m moving outside air in through the bottom part of the entrance and pushing inside air out the top. Better?”
It hadn’t been bad. His skin so hot he knew he had to be flushing a deep red, Tomas shuffled back until they were as far apart as the small cave allowed. Unfortunately, that wasn’t far. If she hadn’t been able to disperse the scent, he was horribly afraid he wouldn’t have been able to control himself. “My apologies. I’ll…It might be better if I…” He changed and curled up into a miserable ball, trying not to think about Ryder’s opinion of such an appalling lapse into instinct. Willing to take the cuff he deserved if only to be able to hear Ryder call him an unthinking cub one more time.
Mirian eased herself down onto the floor of the cave until she lay curved around Tomas, her head on her folded arm, her other hand resting on thick fur near where she’d removed the piece of silver. Stretching out her thumb, she could feel the scar. The Pack healed quickly.
He wasn’t asleep.
If she had to guess, given how rigidly he held himself, she’d say he was too embarrassed to sleep. She supposed she should be embarrassed as well, after all, a young man she’d never been formally introduced to had just gotten intimate with her thigh, but after a moment’s consideration, she realized she didn’t feel embarrassed. Exhausted, in varying amounts of pain, emotionally stretched to the point where kindness would bring involuntary tears, but not embarrassed. After the day she’d had, she was almost grateful to have a problem so easy to deal with. Lady Hagen had adjusted the airflow to ease the Pack response to the promenade at the opera, so Mirian had done the same. She may have been stuck at first level, but air moved when she used mage-craft to blow out a candle, so, logically, she knew how to move air. In order for Tomas to regain reason and stop thinking with his nose, she did nothing more than move a little more air than usual. And if she had to visualize a candle to do it, no one needed to know.
Mirian flushed, becoming aware she’d been stroking the soft fur on Tomas’ shoulder in time with the rhythm of her thoughts. Although she stopped the motion—she didn’t have the excuse of instinct for her lack of manners—she left her hand where it was, needing the contact. Society could just cope.
Tomas continued to hold himself stiffly, painfully stiffly if she had to hazard a guess. Almost as though he were afraid to relax. Afraid of what might happen if he let go. Mirian knew that feeling.
And, maybe, his emotional state had nothing to do with her at all. Tomas Hagen had been in the battle that had destroyed the rest of the Hunt Pack, had run from the border to report to the Pack Leader, and then had run back to fight in another battle today.
Today.
Just this morning, she’d listened to the 2nd Aydori Volunteers sing as they marched toward the border. It seemed like a lifetime ago. There’d been a battle fought today and Tomas had been in it. She had no idea of what he’d seen. No idea of what kind of day he’d had before he’d appeared by the soldiers’ fire. Given the silver she’d pulled from his flesh, only an idiot would think he’d had a good day.
But she had no idea of how to ask him what had happened, or even if she should.
“I was looking for your brother.” Her jaw hurt so she spoke softly, her lips barely parted. He hadn’t asked either, but Tomas had to have wondered why she’d been taken by the soldiers.
Taken might not have been the best word, Mirian realized, her mouth gone dry and a sudden sweat beading out all over her body. She wasn’t a child. She knew how some men chose to prove they held power.
How long before Chard’s harmless interest became something darker? Or Best’s disdain found a physical outlet? Armin might do as the others did or he might turn his back, but he wouldn’t choose her over men he fought beside. Would Captain Reiter have allowed it? He seemed to be an honorable man, but all she knew of men were bankers and boys.
A quiet growl and she opened her fingers, releasing a tufted handful of Tomas’ fur.
“Sorry.” Forcing herself to stop panting, Mirian drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Things were bad enough; why borrow from the list of things that hadn’t happened.
“Those four men,” she continued, when she was certain she’d regained control of her voice, “they were part of a group of Imperial soldiers who ambushed Lady Hagen’s carriage on the Trouge Road. They killed Lady Berin and someone I didn’t know. She was gold; her fur was gold.” Beautiful, golden, sprawled on the road, bleeding. “They used the nets to control the Mage-pack and they intend to take Lady Hagen and four others back to the emperor. My parents’ carriage had stopped just up the road, so when I heard the shots, I went back and saw…” She paused and tried to untangle the story. “I already told you what I saw, didn’t I? When I heard they were being taken to the emperor, I ran to tell the Pack Leader what had happened. Bercarit was farther away than I realized, so when I reached the city, I remembered that the river came to the border and found a boat. I didn’t know about the rapids. I jumped out before I reached them and…” And nearly drowned, but, again, from the list of things that hadn’t happened. “…and they captured me on the shore. They thought I was Mage-pack, but I’m not.”