His legs moved in the corner of her vision, the heel of his boot scraping at the red sand. “By the time Duke found me, my choices were few. The number of us children on the streets had grown, and the crown saw us as a nuisance. Children began to disappear. Some likely snatched and conscripted into the military. Others were too young. There were guesses about what happened to them, most of them horrible. I would not put anything past the Lockes. By that point, I saw death as an inevitability, so if there was a way to do it outside that miserable city, that was enough for me. But, as it happens, being unafraid to die makes for a very good storm hunter.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, not turning completely but enough to see the way the moonlight reflected off the bridge of his nose and the sharp angles of his cheekbones. “How old were you?”
“Old enough.”
And he thought her frustrating.
“I am not the only one with trust issues. You were more honest with me when I was a stranger in the market than you are now when our lives depend upon one another.”
He sat up, dusting the sand off his hands and turning sideways to face her. He folded his legs to sit like her, but there was no making his tall, muscular frame any smaller. He loomed in the edge of her vision, impossible to ignore. “What do you want to know? Ask and I will tell you.”
This was dangerous territory. If she asked, he might expect her to reciprocate. And there were some things that she could not tell him, regardless of whether she wanted to or not.
“I don’t wish to take any secrets you don’t wish to tell.”
“Ask, Roar. I have nothing to hide.”
She could have asked him about his childhood, about growing up in Locke, but other words poured from her mouth before she could help herself.
“Do you still think I made a mistake? Coming here?”
“Do you?”
“No answering questions with a question. And this isn’t about me. I want to know what you think, if you regret saying yes to me.”
His hand touched her back, long fingers spread wide, pressing against her. She suddenly could concentrate on little but the shape of his hand and the pressure his fingers exerted. Finally, he said, “No, I don’t think you made a mistake.”
“Even after the twister? And the thunderstorm and all the others? How am I supposed to hunt storms when … when … I don’t even know what to call it! I cannot even trust myself, which means I cannot trust anyone.”
She had been so sure, so certain when she left Pavan. But now she could not depend upon herself. She was drawn to Locke when she shouldn’t be. She wanted to run back home when she should be brave. And when the storms came, she lost herself.
“You can trust me,” he said, his hand trailing down her spine and then up again in a movement that was probably meant to be comforting. But she felt it too intensely for it to cause anything but fear and frustration.
“No, Locke. I really can’t.”
*
It was a blow, to be sure. But like any wall, Roar’s would not fall without effort, and Locke was more determined than ever to see that happen.
“Why?” he asked. “Do you think I mean you harm?”
“No, I don’t—”
“Do you think I would judge you? I don’t care what your life was before, Roar.”
She scoffed. “You would. You all would.”
“There is not a person on this crew who does not have a past, myself included. You know I was an orphan. I have already told you that my only directive in life is survival. Can you not imagine that I have done things in my life I am not proud of? But I’m here. I am alive. That is more than could be said for many. Whatever it is that haunts you … you’re here now. That is what matters.”
He had lost control over his own hand, and it trailed up and down her back now, tracing the delicate line of her spine again and again. And with each pass, he claimed a little more of her, until his fingers swept up her neck into the fall of her dark wavy hair.
She shivered, and her voice was softer as she spoke. “If it were just the guilt, I would tell you. But it is more complicated than that.”
“When was the last time you tried letting someone else in? Have you ever?”
Her spine stiffened beneath his caress, and he knew he was losing her. There was heat enough to burn in her next words. “I did try. Not that long ago. I was afraid and worried, and I trusted that someone else could help me. That we could be partners. But he was a liar, and he only ever meant to break my will beneath his own.”
Locke couldn’t stop the fierce protectiveness that rose in him, and before he knew what he was doing, he had caught her face in his hands, turning it toward him. “Who was he? The man from the market?”
“Locke, please—”
“If a man needs to hurt a woman to feel good about himself, he is not much of a man.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then how was it? Say the word, princess, and I will hunt him down. It’s what I do, and I am very good at it.”
She paled. “No, no, not that. It was only my pride and my heart that he hurt. Nothing more.”
It should not have made him jealous, to know someone broke her heart. He should only have been mad for her, sad too perhaps. But he could not help the part of him that envied the man she had allowed near her heart in the first place.
Two paths diverged before him in his mind. Since the kiss, he had been content to chase her without thinking of the consequences. But now he knew that he either had to be certain or he had to let her go. He looked at her—at the curve of her cheek and arch of her neck and the bow of her lips—and he knew he could not do the latter.
“I will make you a promise,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything unless you want to. I will do my best to stop pushing you. But know that you have my trust.”
“But—”
“You have it. You were strong enough during that twister to know that something wasn’t right. And we will work until you’re stronger still. Until we find out how to get past this. You asked me if I thought you had made a mistake by coming with us, and my answer is no. You are exactly where you are supposed to be. And I am here with you. If you have questions, ask them. If you have fears, shed them. If you have doubts, give them to me and I will crush them beneath my heel. If you need help, I will provide it. Even if you only need someone to yell at, I can be that too. And when the time comes that you need someone to trust, I will be that person. I promise.”
The words had rushed out of him, like a current he could not fight, and he had been so concentrated on the words, on saying exactly what he meant, that he did not notice her tears until he was silent. Wet droplets brimmed along her lashes, and with each blink, more tears streaked across her cheeks like shooting stars. He had seen her upset, seen her furious, but never had he seen her look so sad, so broken.
“Ah, princess. Don’t cry.”
She shook her head, her lips trembling, and he touched her again, unable to resist. He wiped away the moisture on her cheeks, cupping her face in his hands.
“I—I can’t—” She choked on the words and clutched a hand to her chest like her heart physically hurt in her chest.
He acted on instinct alone, pulling until she sat in his lap, her side pressed against his stomach and her shuddering body cradled against him. He kissed away a tear at the corner of her eye, and she inhaled sharply before choking out another cry. The wind blustered around them, and he pulled her closer, knowing the shawl she wore provided little warmth. His lips moved over her cheek, less of a kiss and more of a caress.