The Wilds (Reign and Ruin 1) (25 page)

As I lowered
myself down back to the log, I could see Lucan was still looking
anywhere but my face. I needed to get him alone. We needed to talk.
And we had at least five hours until the sun set. Cassandra let go
of my hand and moved off into her tent.

"Keep an eye
out, Lucan," she said over her shoulder. It sounded suspiciously
like ‘Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid, Lucan.' But maybe I
misheard.

If I expected
him to make a running jump for my arms the moment she moved out of
sight, I was sorely wrong. But I definitely expected something. The
last day or so had seen him take the time to defend my honor,
comfort my sadness and show genuine tenderness. And then yes, that
turned quickly to sudden animal lust. But it felt for a moment that
I was breaking through something and seeing a real person instead
of a slab of angry concrete. Now he was back to the man I found in
the desert. And if I was only going to live for another day or so,
I didn't want to see him turn back to stone.

"So," I said,
jerking my head towards the dark opening of Cassandra's tent. "That
explains . . . a lot." He stared straight ahead. "Does Cirrus know
his brother's thrown his lot in with the Rebel Alliance?"

"No. Painter, I
don't know." He stretched his neck and straightened his back to
stand up, but as he rose I jumped to my feet and stepped in front
of him. I planted myself firmly in the dirt and waited. He shut his
eyes, as if he knew it was coming, and lowered himself back down
again. He regarded me with tired expectation.

"What, Maggie?"
he sighed.

"Marius knew,
too. And one of your friends sent someone into Lucky Creek." He
stayed silent. "They told me then, I remember it now. The Riders
are coming." I thought of the coal man, his warnings and the secret
whisperings in Marius's lighthouse. "The entire time I was being
followed."

"We were with
you every step of the way," Lucan murmured. I looked at him in
disbelief.

"So now that
it's out in the open, why do I suddenly feel like you've let us all
go?" I suddenly spat. "I felt like you and I were a team. But now
it's you and her and a surprise band of brothers! I'm back to being
baggage." I went down on my knees and forced him to look into my
eyes. "Does that mean you're back to being a jack-ass?" A slight
smile flickered across his face.

"Sweetheart, I
will always be a jack-ass. I hope I didn't give you an impression
otherwise."

"Well, yeah you
did." I sat back on my ankles and shrugged. "I can't figure you
out, Lucan."

"Maggie, you
are the Painter's niece." He leaned forward and put his good hand
on my necklace. His hand was so large his fingers spread over my
collar bone. Under his touch, my skin burned hotter than the gold
beneath and I felt my heart twist. If he noticed he made no sign.
"Seeing Cassandra has reminded me of that."

His eyes were
conflicted, but his answer was clear enough. It didn't stop me from
wanting to close the gap between us and claim his lips with mine
again. My fingers could so easily run through his thick, uneven
brown hair and down his shoulders. And I could feel he wanted to
meet me in the middle because as the air between us grew thick he
leaned back suddenly and released a shaky breath.

"Maggie, I –"
He paused before continuing. "I took advantage of you. Distress can
make anyone emotional. Don't think you wouldn't be feeling the same
if it was someone else in my place."

My fist lashed
out and hit him soundly on the arm. It couldn't have hurt but that
didn't stop the small surge of anger from momentarily darkening his
eyes. I leaned forward and hit him again, just because I knew it
would piss him off, and this time he caught my wrist mid-strike. I
tried to yank it back, but he held it fast.

"Lucan, I just
need you to stop pussy-footing around, because if I don't get to
know what the plan is beyond tomorrow, I at least want to
understand what's happening right now." The tension was palpable
and I knew this was either going to end the conversation or send me
crawling up his chiseled chest. "I am feeling everything, and not
just for you. This symbol, this walk . . . and the connection with
your brother; I don't even know what it means anymore." Lucan
watched me sadly. "So please . . . help me put some of the pieces
together. I know you're brave. So stop pretending to be a fucking
coward."

I pulled my
wrist sharply and he jerked it back, pitching me forward. He leaned
down to meet me, his eyes turning from blue to stormy gray, and the
sweet smell of the sweat from his neck mingled with the damp dirt.
It was instantaneous, the sudden lightening that burned away any
coherent words or stuttering of excuses into something heavy and
thick as syrup, so that all we could think about – all I could
think about – was how gently I could touch my lips to his. His eyes
closed as my mouth brushed his skin, and I sighed into him,
luxuriating in the softness. This kiss had a different feeling, one
that knew it wasn't out to prove anything. But just being.

It was only a
brief moment before Lucan gasped and pulled back, bringing his head
away sharply. And just as quickly as it had disappeared, the anger
and indignation returned. I glared up at his apologetic face. My
entire body felt strained, as if it could suddenly combust, and the
harder I pushed against him the closer I was to splitting . . .

"My duty is to
make sure that you get your throne and finish the Reign Walk. Or in
the worst case scenario, that Cirrus doesn't sit long at the top.
If there is anything beyond that that you can't figure out, than I
haven't done my job right." He let go of my wrist and leaned back
on the log. "You're the Daughter of Palet. I'm just a solider."

"Fuck you,
Lucan," I whispered, getting up and grabbing my jacket. He might
have looked hurt, but I really didn't care. I walked away from the
fire pit, past the shelter – in which I was sure Cassandra was
laughing her gorgeous head off – and into the trees. There was more
air in the clearing but I needed some space. Some
real
space.

I pushed
through the leaves and the ferns, rubbing my wrist angrily, until
flopping myself down on a wet log. Shit, why did this suck so much?
I kicked the ground and snarled in frustration. The necklace
throbbed back in response. My fingers clenched around the chain and
I had to dig my nails into my skin to keep from yanking it off of
my neck. A small sob escaped from my throat and tears momentarily
blurred my vision.

God, this felt
so unfair. All I wanted was an answer to something. To feel like I
was a bigger part of anything, instead of just a lost girl in the
woods.

The leaves
rustled and I wiped my face quickly, half expecting Lucan to
appear, but my heart dropped sharply when Cassandra stepped
soundlessly from the brush. I went back to kicking the dirt and
tried not to think about how she must have heard everything.

"What do you
want?" I asked.

"To make sure
you aren't off putting yourself in danger," she replied smoothly.
She stayed on her feet but leaned against a tree, looking down at
me thoughtfully.

"Well, I'm
fine. And I'll come back in a bit; I just need a few minutes to
myself." Cassandra nodded.

"It really
won't help to take your anger out on Lucan, you know that? He's
only doing his job," she said.

Oh, hell, I
wanted to punch her. Was she really giving me a lecture about
Lucan? Have things grown that petty now? Turning my body so I was
facing her, I smiled bitterly and held my hands open in
submission.

"I'm genuinely
sorry if I stepped on your turf. I didn't know he was yours."
Cassandra started to laugh and I stared at her confusingly. She
sucked her lower lip and seemed to consider the best words to
respond.

"Maggie, Lucan
is nobody's." She smiled and sighed. "He has never been mine, and
will never be yours, because he will never allow himself to belong
to a woman whose strength exceeds his own."

"What is that
supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"It means Lucan
is tied heart and soul to his independence. He hates losing
control, even for a second. His job is to protect." She looked at
me sideways. "You've probably been quite a challenge."

"Have you ever
. . . " I started. Cassandra nodded immediately and I hated her all
over again.

"But I already
told you that he doesn't like a fight." She smiled and flexed her
arms over her head. "Or at least, he always likes to win. You and I
would never be able to let him."

"No offense,
Cassandra, but you don't know anything about me."

"Maggie, time
ticks differently in your world and ours. You have already lived
years and years more than both Lucan and I. And yet you are young.
You have the blood right to our throne, and yet you are a stranger
to Palet. You pull the strings of men crossing deserts and dreams
for your favor, and yet you cannot control even your own heart."
She pushed herself from the tree and considered me seriously. "You
are a woman with a disc of gold between your breasts. And even with
your supreme ignorance and vulnerabilities, it's still not clear to
any one of us if you really need our help. No, I cannot pretend to
understand what you are. And neither can Lucan. He is finding
himself redundant. And admit it: you don't want him around for
protection anymore, either."

My silence must
have been enough of an answer for her, because she started to move
back between the trees. But she paused and turned quickly around
into a deep bow. I was taken aback as her face rose up to meet mine
with admiration. "There is so much fire in you, Maggie. Anyone can
see how hot you glow. It's in your eyes and your tongue. And any
man should want to be consumed, to burn away and follow you as ash
in the wind. And if he doesn't, he's not worthy of the Daughter of
Palet."

At some point,
she blended into the leaves and trees so well that I wasn't sure if
she was still there or had moved away out of sight. It left me
feeling creeped out and slightly empty. Camaraderie over Lucan was
never something I thought we would share. But maybe she was
right.

Was Lucan
afraid of me? Was he angry because I wasn't helpless? Hell, I had
shot a man for him. I asked questions where perhaps I shouldn't. I
had definitely given as good as he gave in other matters, but was
it my fault that all I wanted to do when we kissed was climb on
top? Push back as hard as he? His strength was a turn-on and it
filled me with a confidence I hadn't felt since . . . well,
ever.

I groaned and
put my face in my hands. The only time I felt like I was made of
fire was when we kissed. When he touched me I glowed. But in the
end, I had only known him for a few days. And we'd killed together,
run together and almost fucked together. But does that make this
anything to take home? Or was I just addicted to the strength he
gave? In actuality, wasn't I just a woman who dropped from the
sky?

And wasn't
Cirrus just a man who gave me a necklace?

It was another
fifteen minutes before I went back to camp. I had left to sort
things out in my own head and even though she only wanted to help,
Cassandra had just made it worse. Still, she had stayed me with me
the entire time. I could hear her move behind me back through the
leaves. She could have been silent but I think she deliberately
made noise so I would know I was not alone. I still didn't like her
much, but I was thankful because when I emerged back at the camp
Lucan wasn't there. And I felt suddenly incredibly lonely.

***

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Marty sat staring at
the state of his feet. They were filthy. And wet. His shoes must
have slipped off when he was thrown down the stairs. He sighed and
flexed his toes against the concrete floor. There must be a leak
somewhere, ground water or a hole in the pipes. Whatever it was, it
had been dripping mysteriously in the corner for hours and was
really getting on his nerves.

Drip.

Drip.

Marty looked at
the sound darkly. Hell, everywhere was dark in this cold basement.
And if he could move from these chains he might find some window or
door or even a blessed crack in the wall to try and let in some
natural light. No matter what people say, one does not get
accustomed to the dark. Not in this basement, with Cirrus's
nightmares stalking around the grounds and the tinny smell of blood
lingering in the damp air.

One of Cirrus's
men had left Marty with a desk lamp and a deck of cards. Generous,
really, but what he really needed was a hit. Of anything, just to
make him forget.

Fuck, forget it
all. Forget he was stuck down here and Maggie was out there. Forget
that he always promised her uncle he would protect her. Most of
all, forget that it was his fault she was here in the first place.
Fuck the resistance to hell, nothing could be worth what Cirrus
wanted from her.
And I will never help him with that
, he
thought, slapping down a jack of hearts. Never.

The creak of
the basement door sounded from above and a shaft of light appeared.
Marty craned his neck but recoiled with a gasp as the harsh
overhead lights were switched on. They flashed across his vision
like a whip, bringing bruised spots to his eyes, and it took him a
few moments to adjust. But he tried to keep his mind focused, even
as he blinked against the glare, because the footsteps coming down
were too quick to mean good news.

Marty squinted
up to see Cirrus stood before him. His face was crumpled like a
used napkin, his ash blond hair in disarray. Dirty tracks of tears
shone from his cheeks and on one side of his face was a glaring
scratch, like a nail or claw had run down from the top to the
bottom. He had either been attacked or had attacked himself. Marty
snorted and flipped over another card.