Page 140 of Cursed Shadows 4

I wouldn’t be surprised. It is Dare.

I get no answer from him. He rises and, as he does, pulls the bag straps over his shoulders.

I turn my puffy gaze on Daxeel. Standing over me, he wears the strap of his satchel over his chest like a scabbard belt. His gaze lingers over me for a moment—then he hands me the soft woollen bunch of my sweater.

My hand is heavy as I snatch it from him.

Lethargy is knitted deep into my muscles, my bones. That makes me slow. Slow enough that, as I pull on the sweater, then refasten the corseted harness to my middle and fix the belts back into place, Dare and Rune and Samick have gathered at the cave’s entrance—and they wait.

Daxeel offers me his hand. Gloved.

Mine, naked and quick to be cold, slaps down on his.

His fingers coil around mine—and though it should feel familiar, the touch, the grip I ached for all that time I was alone out here, it doesn’t. It feels nothing like the comfort I sought, but too much like a cuff and chain fastening to me.

Suppose I am now their prisoner of sorts.

A prisoner to my love, to my friends, I wear these invisible shackles out of the cave and feel the weight of them sagging me as we hike the mountain.

Hours and hours of this climb, and my body is struggling. My calves are on fire, my backside is tenser than a pair of metal balls.

The urge to fall forward and use my arms to climb like a wounded beast, it’s a stronger temptation than I would like to admit.

I am the only one to struggle, which only makes it harder.

Can’t stop the grimace from twisting my face with each trudge up a boulder, around a tree, over slick mud.

Ahead, Samick prowls with as much silence as Dare at his side. Some steps in front of them, Rune marches on twigs, and while the sound of their snaps are as soft as whispers, neither Dare nor Samick seem to step on any foliage at all, or if they do, the snaps are silenced completely.

The three of them move together.

If I have any thoughts of turning my back on them, and making a run for it, those thoughts are stamped out by the towering dark male behind me. So close that I feel the air disturb with each huff of impatience that comes from him.

I frown over my shoulder at my wretched male.

The cerulean of his eyes burns from beneath long, thick lashes. The tips of dishevelled curls brush over his brow, adding to the stormy look he plagues me with.

All softer confessions and whispers we shared in the cave, erased with that one look.

He isn’t so kind this phase.

Still, my mouth twists for a beat before I say it… “I am sorry.”

Daxeel just stares at me, keeping my slow, trudging pace as I turn to face him. He doesn’t stop—and does not give me pause, either.

In one step, he’s closed the distance between us, taken my forearm in his grip, and he guides me alongside him.

“For the loss of your brother,” I add with a side-glance at his stony profile.

He just hums a curt sound.

The loss doesn’t cut him as deep as it would if it were a soul-brother who died, one of the dark males ahead. Even Dare, who chucks tiny pieces of debris at Rune.

“You saved me,” I go on, flickering my stare to Daxeel, and yet the harsh stone of his face is unchanging. “You could have saved Caius—but you saved me.”

“Would you rather I didn’t?” His upper lip twitches, a darkness shimmering in his gaze that he keeps fixed ahead. “You would never dance again,” he adds with a bitter glance my way. “Such a waste of talent.”

The deflection is so obvious that I shouldn’t bother with his insult. I shouldn’t feel slighted. He’s only scrambling to repair the rawness exposed between us—to boulder and bludgeon that sweeter moment we shared.

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