Page 13 of Bryce

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Iwished he would stop looking at me. He knew I was furious with him, disgusted, enraged. I wanted to kill him.

I hardly made a secret of it.

Why wouldn’t he stop looking at me, then? Why couldn’t he leave me alone? How much clearer did I need to be before he understood that what he’d done was not forgivable?

Leslie didn’t seem to notice, but why would she? Too busy flirting and giggling. Logan was handsome. Worthy of attention.

I considered thanking him for being so attention-worthy and taking attention from me. The last thing I needed was questions from her, no matter how close we were.

The terrain was rocky, uneven, testing my body. Not just my body, either.

“I thought I was in exemplary shape,” Gate announced with a rueful chuckle as he scaled a steep incline, using sturdy trees on either side of him as handholds.

“You’ve spent too much time in a cave,” Logan called out from above him, grinning, as seemed to be his usual state.

He had scaled the incline with no trouble. Mary kept her men in shape, sending them out on one mission after another. I’d often noticed that, even while at the resort, where it seemed there was little to do but rest, many of them had gone for lengthy swims against the current, had hiked in the surrounding hills, had run footraces in the sand. They believed in keeping themselves in excellent shape to best manage whatever was ahead.

With a mighty grunt, Gate pulled his sizeable body over the ridge and looked down on us with a triumphant smile. “Nothing to it,” he announced, though the sweat on his brow said otherwise.

“You’re next,” I winked, nudging Leslie forward.

“Why me?”

“Because I would like to see you do it before I make an attempt. I want to see where I should place my feet.”

“Oh, very encouraging. At least you’re honest.” I knew none of her grumblings meant anything, not truly. She released her hair from its ponytail, the day’s exertion having teased out tendrils all around her head, and quickly smoothed it all back into a bun.

I could see why, low-hanging twigs were bound to catch on her long locks, otherwise. I quickly followed suit, until we wore identical styles.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, scowling, before taking the first step.

“You can do it!” I encouraged, clapping. “Just keep going and don’t look down.”

“Shut up!” She laughed, then took another step. And another. She was doing much better than Gate had, though not as well as Logan. I wondered to myself if she might be doing this with him in mind, if she wanted to prove herself strong and capable.

An upward glance told me he did, in fact, appreciate her strength. I figured he might appreciate a great deal more on top of that.

I wished I hadn’t noticed. All that awareness served to do was make me more aware of the lion behind me. No matter how ardently I tried to turn my attention from him and keep it there, it was no use.

Just then, while he should have been marking Leslie’s progress, he was looking at me. I felt it. My dragon did, as well, and made certain I knew.

My dragon was wrong. For the first—no, second—time in a millennium, she was wrong. So much for animal instinct. I’d always trusted her in the past with minor stuff, but this?

It was her fault I’d fallen prey to him on the island. I wouldn’t fall prey again. What a fool I’d be if I did.

“Come on!” I cheered, watching her make short work of what had taken Gate considerably more effort. She was smaller, lighter, though no less powerful. It was a matter of only a few moments more before she raised her fists in triumph, the men applauding.

“Looks like it’s up to you,” Bryce murmured while the three of them congratulated themselves for being so very clever and agile.

I rewarded his observation with a withering glance. “Oh? And what makes you believe I would go before you?”

“You don’t want me down here standing guard in case you have difficulty?”

“I suppose that’s your way of reminding me of my earlier clumsiness.” I flinched whenever the moment returned to me. The feeling of my feet slipping, the certainty that I was about to fall and make a fool of myself, before he caught me. Touched me. Held me, if only for the length of a heartbeat.

Why did it have to be him? If Gate had caught me, I would have thanked him profusely, Logan, too, of course.

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