Page 7 of Lure

GRACE

Staring at his prosthetic was probably rude as fuck so I focused on the area around us, not that I could see much. The darkness was deep, but when the light behind went out it was like the night took on a texture of its own. Above, there were so many stars.

“Keep drinking the water,” Alphabet advised as he tugged on a clean shirt. The sound of his zipper pulled my attention back to him. “Just getting changed,” he said, not looking at me. Or maybe he was. The velvet night outlined him. He was a darker shadow amidst the others, but maybe it was the memory of the light from the car made his blonder hair seem almost like a halo.

Or maybe my brain was just making shit up.

I opened my mouth to offer to help, but then closed it again and leaned my head against the side of the van and stared at the sky again. In school, there were pictures in books about the stars and they showed up in the movies.

But this was…

“It’s something else, isn’t it?” he asked.

“I’ve always lived in cities,” I admitted. “Traveled to cities. Lived close to cities.”

“Sometimes, the best part of deployment was where it took us—took me. First time I saw anything like this, I was in a high desert in the mountains. Cold enough to freeze your nuts off, but we couldn’t use a fire. Not that I would have traded the view for the warmth.”

“Do they go away with any light pollution?” That was the word right. The throb of the headache had taken on a steady cadence. It wasn’t quite killing me anymore, but I wouldn’t mind if it went away.

How many concussions was too many? It had to be a concussion, right?

“Not totally,” he said and there was something soothing about his voice in the dark. Goblin was nearby, I could hear the soft huffs of his panting. The smell of metallic rust and sweat still coated my nose but then a breeze would come to brush it away. “It does take away from some of it. It’s best on a night with no moon.”

That made sense.

“Drink, Gracie.” The gentleness in his tone softened the order to a request. Thankfully, he didn’t continue to press me. Course, I also unscrewed the top of the water bottle and took a drink.

His movements disturbed the air so I could kind of follow him getting dressed again. While I didn’t comment, a part of me wondered how hard it was to get dressed, or undressed for that matter, with the prosthetic.

Also, how far up did it go? What had happened to his leg? Clearly, he’d been injured. I wasn’t a total idiot even if my brain actually hurt at the moment. They were all former military, they had to be. Or close to it.

“How did you get the name Alphabet?” The question slipped out in the darkness. I’d already asked Voodoo what his real namewas and he hadn’t answered me. Or maybe he had and that answer was none of my business.

“My name is a bitch sometimes,” Alphabet admitted. “I always have to spell it for people. It became a running joke… so—Alphabet.”

I took another long drink of the water. He popped open the wipes. The faint scent of the scentless teased me. Nothing was truly scentless.

“I’m going to guess you like it better than the other?” I mean, it was still a question but when men in their what? Mid-thirties? Went by nicknames permanently, they had to like them, right?

“Eh,” he said and I could almost hear the smile that kissed the words. “It’s not bad. And I don’t have to spell it.”

A snort escaped me. “I mean… I guess you could always sing it if someone does ask.”

The silence that greeted my statement had me swallowing my own humor with another long gulp of water. I’d almost finished all of it and my stomach wasn’t rolling anymore. Good sign, right?

He huffed, then let out a real chuckle. “Sing it.” I could almost picture him shaking his head. “You know what, Gracie. Maybe I will next time.”

That made me grin all over again. There was the sound of plastic rustling, probably sacking up his filthy clothes. The smell was much better so I’d take it.

“Now, for the hard question,” Alphabet said and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“Because everything else that’s happened has been so easy and gentle.”

“True,” he mused. “But you’re a big girl. You can handle it.”

Yes, I probably could. Or I could fake it. Either way… “What’s the hard question?”

“Do you want to change? I’ll be honest, I was more worried about getting you away and making sure you didn’t have any open wounds than I was worried about your clothes. But I also didn’t realize how sticky some of that shit still was on me when I put you into the van and got you out.”

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