Page 45 of The Last Hope
“If they weren’t, I would’ve found you a map.” He tilts his head. “You’re not my prisoner. I’m not your captor. If you ever want to leave, you can walk out of your own accord. I’ll encourage you to stay. It’d be the smarter choice, but I’ll never force you to remain here.”
I like his words.
Maybe he knew I would, and that’s what concerns me and Court and Mykal most of all.
I reach out and grip the doorway again. Not letting him pass. “What’s in the satchel?” I ask.
Stork lowers the bag behind his back. “Are you always this forward?”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”
A laugh sticks to his throat, followed by a briny smile.
“See how it feels when someone has too many answers and refuses to share? It’s not pleasant.”
He makes a noise that sounds cross, agitated, and haughty all at once. “This is going to be fun,” he states like it’ll be anything but fun. He suddenly wraps a powerful arm around my waist and hoists me like a storeowner adjusting a mannequin.
“Heya!” Mykal yells.
I kick Stork’s shins, but he’s already setting me down. Moving me only far enough so he could enter the sick bay.
I swat and spit flyaway hair out of my mouth. Wafting my shirt again, I adjust my stance to appear as dignified and knightly as any Fast-Tracker can be. “I’m no fan of etiquette—”
“I hadn’t noticed,” he quips, eyes dripping down my body.
I try not to unravel. “But that was rude.”
“Which part?” he asks, nearing the cushioned benches where Court and Mykal have sprung to their feet. Both spearing stormy threats into Stork.
He acknowledges them with a brisk nod.
“You, lifting me up without a warning.”
Stork tosses the satchel on a bench and mulls this over for half a second. “We were at a standstill.” He turns to me while I approach them. “If I didn’t move you, then you would’ve slipped between my legs. I cut to the chase.”
My face scrunches. “Who says I would’ve slipped between your legs? Maybe I would’ve moved you too.”
Stork swishes his bottle and appraises my outward ire that cinches my brows. “If you can pick me up off the floor for five seconds, I’ll answer any question you ask.”
Any question.
He’s dangling what I hunger after most of all, right in front of me.
Any question.
Any answer.
Please.
Court glares. “Don’t do this to her.”
Stork holds my gaze, waiting for my response. “She can say no if she wants.”
Their discourse confuses Mykal, who picks at the dried blood on his cheeks. Bruises blemish the skin beneath his eyes, but his nose looks no more crooked than before.
Court is trying to tell me not to do this. I could embarrass myself with the attempt. Clearly I see that Stork has given me an opportunity with no real chance to succeed.
And I know who I am.
