Page 60 of In Violent Waves

“My ass hurts,” she whined.

Tears spilled over the rims of her eyes and wet the hair at her temples.

“May I—may I touch you?”

Lyra nodded, but that wasn’t quite good enough for him, especially since she had tried to kick him in the face the last time he had touched her.

“I need to hear the words, Legs.”

Lyra screwed her eyes shut and heaved a sigh. “You may touch me, Wilder.”

With a gentleness he didn’t think possible, he scooped her up off the damp earth.

Small, slender twigs and thin, brown leaves clung to her as he clutched her to his chest. She was so fragile.

It was disturbing that something so meager wielded so much power.

When she rested her head against his chest, he felt something within him stir, but he shoved it away.

Shoved everything away.

If he cared to notice, his end had already begun. She was his ruin, but he was also hers.

It was like a noose, tightening around his soul with each moment they spent together.

LyrahatedWilder. Hated him for how he made her feel at this moment.

Safe and cared for. It was despicable.

He was her enemy and had wanted to kill her, had been ordered to kidnap her. This was the part of her she had tucked away for good. A part of her she thought had been drowned and beaten away.

Her feet dangled as he carried her to the horse he had dismounted, Otto’s horse. That howl had cost them an extra mount.

Wilder looked from her to the horse and back to her again. She could tell he was debating not just her pain, but her fear of getting back in the saddle. How extraordinary. He looked genuinely concerned.

And for once, she wanted to put someone out of their misery.

“It hurts, but I can ride,” she muttered.

The pain was an annoying throb down her lower back and to her toes. She had been more annoyed than terrified when the horse took off until she fell, then was terrified. But he had put her mind at ease.

Wilder’s lips pressed into a thin line and nodded. With supreme caution, he lifted her back onto the horse. Lyra gripped the saddle horn and grimaced. Nothing was broken, thankfully, but she was severely bruised.

“There’s some yarrow in Maelys’ saddlebag,” Wilder said as he swung up behind her. “And we can take more breaks if needed.”

Lyra shook her head, and a few leaves that had tangled in her hair fell between them.

If she had to spend any more time on the back of this horse, she would lose her mind.

“Let’s just go. I’m sick of traveling.”

This is what she got for wanting a life of adventure. She hadn’t been able to stand still for longer than a few hours in the last week. That couldn’t have been right?

An entire week had passed already. The world must be spinning faster on land. The days and nights dragged on under the water, but up here, without the weight of the entire ocean above your head, they flew by. Carried by the wind.

Ridge and Maelys, followed by Otto on foot, approached from behind. Maelys had yarrow outstretched in her hand and a carefully blank expression on her face.

Otto didn’t even try to hide the smile that stretched across his face. Ridge scanned her over, and she felt the prodding of his assessment as if he could see beneath her skin, to the very core of her being.