Page 91 of Wings of Lies
He ignored me and turned to leave. I shot out my arm, stopping him. “Aspen.”
He stared at my fingers on his as I watched the red light fade back into his skin. The mask covering the destruction in his face fell, and the block on his pain, like my touch brought him back to himself and reinforced our connection.
When he looked up from my touch and I saw the glassy blue, it was difficult to think of him as my captor. He looked more like a guy ruined by his past.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He pulled away from my hand, picking up his cloak to crouch down and cover my bottom half. “I’m your enemy, Lucille.”
He was right, and yet I already needed another reminder as he double-checked that he’d covered every inch of my exposed skin.
“Is this you giving me the moon?”
Aspen lifted his head and gripped my chin, staring at me with a severeness that stopped my breath. “If I could ever give you the moon, I’d start by taking you away from here. Then I’d ensure no one ever found us and destroy anyone who did. But as you can see, Elora’s moon is blue, dyed by the sorrows of failure, broken promises, and power. So I can’t give you the moon, Lucille. I can’t give you anything.” He punctuated his words with the drop of his hand. Brock rounded a bush just as Aspen stood and said, “Stay away from the water.”
“Everything alright?” Brock asked, glancing between us. I watched him note my state and pants off to the side.
“Yes,” Aspen said, then left, worsening the ache in my chest.
“Get dressed, we’re leaving,” Brock ordered.
“Drag your wrinkly ass back to camp, and I will.”
Shit. Why’d I say that?
“Watch yourself. Just because Prince Aspen’s had a change of heart about playing with our prisoners doesn’t mean accidents can’t happen.”
That tidbit didn’t bode well for the butterflies confusing my mind about my princely jailor—not after his speech, when his words made poetic sense, but the emotion in his eyes told a different story. He was the enemy. I knew that, and yet something prompted me to reconsider.
Brock chuckled. “Don’t think that means anything, angel. The prince received correspondence after the Hellhound attack stating the queen wants you mostly intact and healthy.”
Is that why he continued to save me? For his worthless queen?
“Now you understand,” Brock smiled, sensing my emotional downturn. “Hurry up, or I’ll drag you back half-naked. She saidmostly.”
At the tip of my tongue lingered curses and insults I wanted to spew into his loose-skinned face. Knowing his threat wasn’t empty, I kept the hateful words in my eyes, and my lips pressed together.
Like the despicable old man he was, he watched as I shimmied on my pants underneath Aspen’s cloak. My power tickled my fingers at the leer twisting his lips.
Why did Aspen leave me with him?
To my horror, I had to have Brock hold my arm to keep me steady on our way back. He didn’t trip me for fun like I thought he would, but he got in some shoves, laughing when I winced.
At camp, he dragged me past the doused fire and the demons, then shoved me into Aspen’s back. “Here, your prisoner,” he said, forcing me to latch onto Aspen’s arms so I didn’t fall.
Aspen turned, taking my arm to steady me, and eyed Brock. “You’re driving first, and she’s sitting up there with you,” he stated, dropping my arm to leave.
Brock grabbed him. “You need to re-cuff her, Prince Aspen. She can’t think she can escape.”
The chill morning air heated to suffocating levels. A pulse vibrated through the building tension. Flames licked Aspen’s neck, trailing down to his leathered arm. He turned to face Brock, smiling with malicious intent. “If you want to keep that hand, I’d remove it, Brockalian.”
He snatched his hand back.
The heat died down, bringing relief to my sweaty forehead. Aspen pulled back his flames, only keeping them in his irises. “Do not touch me. Do not give me orders. I know how to treat our prisoners.” He stepped chest to chest with Brock. “You work for us. Go to your position.”
Brock licked his yellow teeth, fisting his hands. “Yes, Prince Aspen,” he finally gritted out, whirling around to the front of the carriage.
The flames calmed when he addressed me.
“Don’t you dare,” I said, not caring he almost incinerated Brock’s hand. If double-cuffing one leg still blocked my power, I didn’t need them attached to both. It mortified me to trip and shuffle around. But really, I needed to be able to run when the time came.
