Page 85 of Wings of Lies
“I’m not undressing in front of you.”
He stood, pulling me off the ground. “I know how to turn around and close my eyes.”
I eyed him skeptically, then gestured forward. “Lead the way.”
We walked into the forest. Aspen kept close by, panning left and right in search of Hellhounds or other creatures I didn’t want to know about. His hovering behavior lasted as long as the walk did, which wasn’t long.
Red grass stretched from the ground, brushing against our leathered thighs and weaving between orange and white trees. Large rocks with moss the color of Aspen’s eyes jutted into the slow-moving water. I may hate everything about my situation, but Elora made it hard to hate its beauty.
We stopped by one of the large rocks. I turned to him and pointed to a tree far enough away. “Go stand there and turn around.”
He clenched his jaw. I could see the protest stewing in his eyes.
“I am not undressing with you this close even if I am your prisoner. So, we can stand here and glare at each other all day, or youcan go over there and wait until I undress and splash into the water to turn back around.”
Surprising me for the second time today, he conceded, giving me a sharp nod.
“If you run?—”
“Yeah, Yeah, big bad Aspen will come and chase me down. I got it. I won’t run,” I said, huffing.
His lip twitched, almost like he was about to smile, but he turned around too fast for me to know. I waited until he neared the tree before I undressed, watching him the entire time.
My jacket and shirt came off easily, as did my boots and socks. My pants were another story. Gently sliding the stiff leather over my stitches, I pulled them down. The first leg slid off with no trouble, but when I did the same to the second, it wouldn’t budge. I tugged and kicked, cursing the cuffs.
“Do you need help?” Aspen asked, voice muffled.
“No,” I snapped. “You could’ve tightened the damned cuffs.”
“You could be grateful I took themoffat all,” he called back.
I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t exactlyoffin my book.
Toes needing a break from the cold rock, I plopped on the ground, letting out a squeal as my warm butt hit the stone.
Did not think that one through.
“Sure you don’t need help?” Aspen asked. And I swore I heard a smile in his voice. But my arrogant princely jailor didn’t smile or offer help. Maybe the Aspen from before would, though.So, which Aspen was this?
“I’m fine.”
I fussed with my pants and cuffs. When that didn’t work, I stood, placed my freed foot on the loose material, and wrenched my leg back.My pants shucked off. I smiled for a split second before my wobbling balance had my arms pinwheeling in the open air.
Squealing, I splashed into the river.
It was cold. So cold.
Breaking the surface, I sputtered.
Aspen stood on the rock I fell from, took one look at my face, and laughed. Dimples indented his cheeks, and joy sang in the creases of his face.
My eyes grew twice as big as my stomach fluttered at the throaty noise. I knew that laughter. I knew those dimples. I knew the playful tilt of his head and the wonder soothing his normally tight-lipped expression as he held me with his vibrant blues. I was drowning in a sea of pure manifested joy—all light, all goodness, all him—the Aspen Hana spoke of—the Aspen I once knew.
So, what the hell changed? What happened to him?
I wanted to ask, but I feared what he’d say or wouldn’t say.
“Did you want to wash your pants too? Or did that little shriek and flailing limbs mean what I think it meant?” He pointed at my pants floating next to me.
