Page 28 of Traitorous Lies
“Got it,” she murmured.
“Good.”
Pressing his lips to hers in a featherlight kiss, she then felt another growl rumble through his chest before Jax kissed her like he was consumed with need. She was, too, and her fingers lifted to tangle in his short hair as she took everything he had to offer.
In that kiss was a promise.
Once they were back home, all bets were off, and he was going to pursue her. She felt it vibrating through him, his need, his desire, hisattraction to her. It all poured out of him in the kiss, and she clutched at it, using it to soothe the sting of rejection she’d felt earlier.
Jax was a good man, one who cared deeply about the people in his life, who had taken on a job that could get him killed because he wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps and make the world a safer place. He was loyal and protective, sweet and funny, and for some crazy reason he’d focused on her.
If they could just find their way out of the forest, they could explore these feelings, nurture them, and let them grow, and maybe one day fall in love and start a life together.
The only thing stopping her from having that future was the fact that they were lost. Nothing else could ever come between them.
Chapter
Eight
November 4th
6:18 P.M.
The temperature had dropped dramatically.
Worryingly.
Jax knew they were both getting weaker. While they’d been able to replenish their water bottles every time they found a river so they weren't dehydrated, and Monique had continued to find them sources of food so they weren't starving, neither, was her little fox friend, but they weren't replenishing their bodies’ supplies quickly enough.
Add in the fact they’d both been injured before they even started walking, and they’d just wrapped up day four of hiking through the French forest, and he wasn't sure how much longer they’d be able to keep going.
Of course, Monique never complained, but she needed more regular breaks and he could tell she found it harder and harder to get back up on her feet. Feet that were a mess, covered in blisters, some of which he was becoming worried about.
If an infection set in and they couldn’t find their way out of the forest in time …
The last thing he wanted was to sit by helplessly and watch Monique wither away and die while he could do nothing about it.
“Sorry, this is going to be cold,” he told her as he held the water bottle above her feet.
“It’s okay, I know we need to wash them so they don’t get infected,” Monique assured him. There were dark circles under her eyes, and he was sure she was getting paler as the days went by. Leaning back against the tree trunk, she looked utterly wiped out. But she was hanging in there.
In her lap, she clutched her little fox, bundled in the sweater from the dead guard. With the temperature dropping the way it was, they would have to have a conversation about that. She needed the added warmth more than the fox did. It was made to live out there, and its fur would keep it warm enough. Monique didn't have the same ability.
Pouring a little of the cold water on her feet, he felt Monique tense even as she didn't make a sound. Taking the handkerchief he’d happened to have with him in his back pocket when he went to the ball, he wiped her feet down, removing all the bits of dirt and stick that had managed to get inside the shoes as she walked. The handkerchief was still stained with some of their blood from that first day when he’d cleaned them both down after they’d fled the scene of their would-be murders, and now more blood stains were being added to it.
The more he dabbed and cleaned, the tenser Monique became until she finally winced and hissed as he touched a particularly big blister.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“Why are you sorry, princess?” She had to know he didn't expect her to be anything other than human. She was holding it together, doing everything he asked of her, doing her part in keeping them going, but she was allowed to hurt, to be in pain, to need a moment to fall apart.
“Don’t want to complain.”
“Hardly complaining to be in pain,” he reminded her, sure there was an underlying reason for her hesitation to show even the slightest bit of discomfort. Hell, he’d complained more than she had over the last four days, and he had training and experience in being in situations like this.
Her gaze skittered away until it was fixated on something over his shoulder. “Don’t want to make you mad,” she whispered.
“Why the hell would I be mad at you for being in pain when your feet look like this?” Jax lifted the foot balanced on his knee that he’d been cleaning to remind her that she wasn't whining about nothing. Her feet were beat up and had to be extremely painful just resting there let alone walking on them.
