“You were so . . . hard. And unfeeling.”
“I thought I had to be. I thought not caring was the way to protect myself from this world. From losing and hurting again. I actually told myself we could just be travel companions. That I could spend months with you and not love you.”
I turned my face, dropping my forehead against the side of his face. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry about?” Bewilderment rang in his voice.
“If Sivo hadn’t forced me on you, then you would have kept going. You’d be halfway to Allu by now. I was exactly what you didn’t want. Entanglement. Someone to drag you down—”
He kissed me, crushing my words. His hands held my face, pulling me toward him so that I crawled in his lap and straddled him. This kiss was ruthless, desperate. A release from the fear of almost losing each other. From days of running without time for breath.
“Don’t you ever say that,” he growled against my lips.
His hands burned a trail everywhere, roaming my back, callused fingertips stroking my nape and burrowing into my hair. I trembled as he tugged my head back, his lips gliding over my throat before coming back to my mouth. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere except here with you.”
My fingers delved inside his doublet, smoothing over taut shoulders. I clutched him through the layers of his shirt, hungry for the sensation of him. He winced and I remembered his injuries. Gasping, I pulled back. “Oh, I’m sorry!”
He seized my hands and positioned them back on him. “I want your touch.”
I nodded, a happy breath shuddering out from me because it was what I wanted, too. More than anything. Gently, I slid my hands over the curve of his shoulders. “I’ll be more careful.”
Fowler leaned back slightly to shrug out of his doublet. “Don’t worry about me.” His arms came back to wrap around me, and we were kissing again. Hard, deep, soul-bending kisses. Fowler’s bigger body curled over mine, taking us down. Dried bits of grass crackled under the blanket cushioning us as we kissed until I could hardly catch my breath. “You’re all I need.”
I framed his face in my hands and reveled in the texture of his skin, the silk of his hair, the delicious weight of him over me. I traced his features, soaking him up, absorbing all of him. “I love you, Fowler,” I whispered, following his instructions and living in the now. Not worrying. Not thinking. Only feeling.
I listened to the strong and even cadence of Fowler’s heart beneath my ear. His chest rose and fell in slow draws. If he wasn’t asleep, he was very relaxed. I smiled softly. He needed rest.
My ears pricked and I lifted my head from the pillow of Fowler’s chest. A bark sounded in the distance. I lifted my head. “Did you hear that?”
“What?” Fowler asked, his voice alert and wide awake.
I rose to my feet. “It sounded like a . . . bark.”
“Your wolf?”
“No.” I wished it was Digger, but that wasn’t his bark. Digger rarely even barked. He was all stealth. “A dog, I think.” I angled my head to the side, listening harder.
Fowler moved to stand by my side, pulling his shirt over his head. I faced the direction of the sound. “There. I heard it again.”
“That’s south. Not the direction of Ainswind.”
I turned to face him. “That’s good, right?”
“I don’t know.” He hesitated a moment, listening by my side. A dog barked again. “I heard it,” he confirmed. It was a distinctive bark, low and hoarse. This time closer.
Fowler jumped into action, sliding back into his doublet, gathering up our things as one bark turned into two, then three. I joined him in packing up our belongings, our breaths fast and choppy with anxiety.
The barks overlapped now. There was more than one dog out there, and they were on the trail of something. Something like us.
Fowler turned in the direction of the barks again and froze.
“What is it? What’s happening?” I demanded, dread building as I tracked Fowler where he stood so still.
“My father used trained dogs. Whenever a group left Relhok City, the hounds would accompany them. He never traveled without them. They can track. They can detect dwellers long before us. They can also fight, attack on command, if necessary.”
“Your father?” I shook my head, bewildered. “He came himself?”
“Yes. My father. Cullan.” He paused. “He’s come for us, Luna. He’s come for you.”
I shook my head. “No. That can’t be—”
Fowler grabbed my hand and tossed me atop my horse. “It’s him,” he declared as he mounted his own horse.