Page 47 of Ghosts of the Dead

I chuckle at how out of character that is for him and shake my head. “He was nice, actually. But thanks for the offer. You’ll be the first to know if I want to take you up on that.” I pause for a moment. “Check back in an hour.”

That earns me one of Caspian’s rare, genuine smiles. The kind that shifts his whole expression from haunted to hopeful.

“Thank you.” I take a grateful sip of the water. It’s cool and clean. A simple, rare comfort.

He settles beside me and is quiet for a moment before reaching into his hoodie pocket. “I found something that reminded me of my brother. While we were clearing out the rotters,” he says.

He pulls out a small bottle cap. It’s bent and worn with the paint mostly chipped away, but he holds it like it has value.

“We used to play this game when we were kids,” he continues, his voice distant with memory. “Flicking bottle caps across the kitchen floor, trying to get them into an old coffee can. He always won, but he’d let me think I had a chance.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “He said it was practice for when we’d need to be quiet and quick. Turned out he was right.”

“It sounds like he was a good brother,” I say.

“He was.” He turns the bottle cap over in his hands. “What about Summer’s music box? You mentioned it before. What did it sound like?”

I close my eyes and hum and melody. It’s soft with sweet notes that seem to float between us despite the harsh reality we live in.

After a moment, Caspian joins in. His voice is low andtentative, but perfectly in tune. The harmony we create molds together and cuts through the darkness.

Soft lips press against mine, and a tongue slips past my lips in a gentle, tender kiss. I recognize his touch in an instant, and the mindful way he holds back.

The kiss is careful and sweet. Not like Mars’s fire, or Jace’s intensity. Something softer. The exact kind I need right now. And damn if that doesn’t undo me more.

When he pulls away, I open my eyes to see Caspian smiling at me, his pale blue eyes warm in the firelight.

“You’re so pretty when you get lost in music,” he says. His thumb brushes across my cheek. “I wish the world was safe enough to play music more often.”

There’s something wistful in his voice that makes my chest tighten with emotion. He studies my face for a moment longer before tucking the bottle cap back into his pocket. He glances at the dying fire. “I should keep the fires fed so we don’t risk more rotters stopping by to say hello. You should try to get some sleep if you can.” He stands with that quiet grace of his and disappears.

I watch him tend to each flame, and I feel something warm in my chest that has nothing to do with the heat from the fires.

Caspian notices everything, and he remembers what matters to people. It’s truly a gift in a world that’s forgotten how to be gentle.

A pair of glowing eyes reflecting firelight watches me from the edge of camp. Luna lies with her body curled around the dented metal bowl that’s now filled with fresh water Caspian set out for her. Her ears twitch when she sees me look her way, but she doesn’t move. We’re slowly earning her trust, and I intend to be as patient as she needs.

I shift to get more comfortable on the concrete, and a sharp jolt of pain shoots through my wrist. I wince.

Mars notices. His head snaps up, and he abandons histask of cleaning his blade. He’s up and moving before the weapon clatters to the ground. He crouches beside me in an instant with concern etched into every line of his face. “Wrist still bothering you?”

“Not much,” I lie.

I don’t want to be the reason he frowns like that. The face with the laughter is my favorite look for him.

He raises a brow. “Liar.”

Dammit.

Caught. I roll my eyes with a low groan, but I don’t resist when he shifts closer. He takes my arm with surprising gentleness for such a brute of a man and unwraps the bandage.

His fingers are warm, and his touch is light. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says, his voice low and sincere. Then, with that familiar Mars grin, he adds, “I’ll kiss it better.”

I narrow my eyes at him. He’s been a big flirt lately, but it’s hard to tell if he’s serious or just joking to mess with Jace. “You’re not funny.”

“Didn’t say I was joking.”

Heat flares up my neck and floods my face. I glance away, pretending to find sudden interest in the nearest fire. Was fire always so orange and bright? Fascinating.

He finishes rewrapping the bandage, making it a little tighter this time since it came loose while I was swinging a torch around. It feels better already.

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