Page 20 of In Violent Waves

When she shivered and clutched her chest, he knew adrenaline was taking hold. He knew what that felt like, so he did the only thing he could think to do—talk.

“How did you know all that stuff before?”

He didn’t want the fear taking hold of her too strongly. Then she would pass out, and he would be forced to carry her again for the sake of his mission.

He hadn’t liked how that had felt. It had been too intimate.

She was his enemy, and he didn’t need to feel anything for her at all.

“Books,” she muttered.

He could hear the fluttering that had taken hold of her chest and smell the fear that still pumped through her veins.

Wilder tilted his head at her voice. When she looked up into his eyes, the fluttering slowed and returned to the rhythmic, albeit quick, pumping.

“So, do you like to read?” he asked, scrubbing the back of his neck with an open hand.

She furrowed her brow before answering. “Yes,” she hissed. “What kind of question is that? Why would I read so much if I didn’t like it?”

He turned back to the path to hide the smirk that was blooming on his face.

“I take it you don’t like reading, and that’s why you know nothing?” She said the words as if it offended her that someone could not enjoy reading.

“I prefer having adventures to reading about them.”

“That’s called privilege,” she snapped.

They walked farther on, but her pace had dwindled. Twigs snapped beneath her feet, and she stumbled more often than not. But he had done his duty. She was still alive, no longer quaking with fear, and following willingly. His father would be proud, and maybe that would suffice to get him a few days of freedom.

“Are there more humans like that around here?” Her voice was so small, so timid compared to the haughty arrogance she had been exuding.

Wilder’s face fell into a scowl, and he scanned their surroundings.

“Undoubtedly.” He sniffed and was hit with the scent of unwashed bodies and stale ale that seemed to permeate the men of this forest.

“How do you know?”

Lyra studied him a bit too closely for his liking.

There was something about her eyes. The emerald green color was most unusual, but also the sharpness in them. Like she could see more than what was physically there.

Wilder tapped the side of his nose and continued walking.

He hadn’t bothered to tie her back up, but there hadn’t been a need. For whatever reason, she had seemed to trust his words, or maybe she was smart enough not to run back into the forest after her ordeal.

“You can smell the humans?” she asked as she kept pace with him. Her steps became quicker when she was after information.

“I can scent you, too.”

Lyra stopped. Her eyes grew wide, and he chuckled. He hadn’t been lying when he told her there was no place she could run or hide. Now she believed him.

His next words were quiet because only a small part of him wanted her to know.

“You smell of the sea in a storm.”

That wasn’t the complete truth, but he didn’t know how to explain that it was more powerful than that.

Wilder scanned the forest, breathing in the earth and moss-covered trees. He picked up the fleeting scent of feathers and small critters as they scurried silently around them.