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For those who’ve had to put one foot in front of the other, even when it was really hard.
Love was nothing but a weapon to be used against you. It was safer to be alone.
Kraki examined it. “I should prefer the gift of your staying the fuck away.”
“The only reason I haven’t shown you my fist is Silla’s dislike for violence,” Jonas continued.
“You’ve broken me…bewitched me…I know nothing except that I am miserable. All I can think of are your lips, the smell of your hair. How you felt in my arms, the way you made me feel so alive.”
I have Ilías. The Bloodaxe Crew. And I do not get attached to others. It is safer that way. But I…like you. More than I should.”
“I was wrong to treat you like that. And I’m done fighting it, Silla. You shouldn’t be with other men. You belong with me.”
“I wanted to tell you”—she panted—“there are no pockets in my dress. It is quite impractical. I thought you’d approve.”
“Gods, woman. You feel like you were made for me.”
Ilías swayed in a way that suggested he might still be drunk, his Freshly Woken Cave Bear hair mussed in all its glory.
Silla considered. “Strong. Like a warrior.” Confidence bloomed in her stomach. She felt capable. It was the reminder she needed: She could do hard things.
He could give her chickens.
“I’m not a good man, Curls.” He drew a lock of hair from her face and pushed it back. “But you make me feel as though I could be one.”
“I want you to have it.” Jonas studied her carefully. “Something to hold on to while we are apart. Do you like it?” He found himself holding his breath.
Rey eased back into the woods. She escaped, he thought, his heart swelling. Somehow, this did not surprise him. She was clever, his girl. A survivor.
