Page 22 of The King's Man
He’d rolled onto his back, both hands slumped on his chest.
His furs were easily twice the width of mine, and still they only barely covered his body. I found my eyes trailing over those broad shoulders, landing on his nearest hand—measuring the wide flat nails, those tendons that stood proud on the back of his hands, knowing they led to the lines in the forearm…
I’d always found it fascinating how a man’s bodyrespondedto him. To heat. To strength. To anticipation of a fight.
Tendons, rippling muscles, the swell of strength…
Suddenly, images bloomed in my mind—that hand of Jann’s reaching for my naked body. I should have been repulsed, but I also saw that wicked smile and those flashing eyes, thatthingthat crackled between us when he drew close and I touched him.
My pulse sped up and an ache began between my thighs.
“Stop it, Diadre,”I whispered at myself—at my body—and tore my eyes from him, punching and squashing the jacket I was using as a pillow. “These Nephilim pricks are too full of their own, well,pricks,to be anything but beasts.”
I slumped back down onto the pillow, huffing—then froze.
Jann had rolled onto his side, facing me. He was awake. And smiling.
“Shut up,” I muttered when our eyes locked.
“I didn’t say a word.”
“Your eyes said plenty.”
His grin grew wider.
I sneered. “I wouldn’t be smiling if I were you. Those eyes have a habit of betraying you, Jann.”
His smile disappeared, which meant I found mine.
“Good night, Jann. Sweet dreams,” I said, as sweetly as I was able. Then rolled away so he could only see my back and wouldn’t know how long it took for sleep to find me.
8.Camouflage
~ JANN ~
Just before I saw the Fetch tents the next morning, Diadre muttered to me, “Keep your mouth shut and trust me.”
Strangely, I did.
The Fetch camp blended with the forest so seamlessly, I didn’t realize we were within it until my horse was stepping between tents made from a strange fabric that, on close inspection, had merely been dyed in a variety of colors. But at a distance it disappeared against the trees and undergrowth. I didn’t know how I’d missed it, but it explained why Diadre had suddenly drawn me off the trail.
I suspected she’d caught a subtle signal left by the Fetch that we Neph didn’t know. But if that was the case, she wasn’t sharing it.
Fair enough. I wouldn’t have done so if the roles were reversed, either.
The way they materialized from nowhere made my skincrawl, but Diadre smiled as she dismounted and handed her reins to one of them. “Tell my brother I’m here, and if Gall or Istral have found you, please bring them to speak with me right away.”
The Fetch at the top of the circle closing around us frowned. “It’s only those of us who left Theynor after you. We’ve seen no sign of Lady Istral. Is she—”
IfeltDiadre tense. “Please. I need to speak with Jhonas.”
The Fetch nodded once then disappeared into the trees in a breath. Diadre took off her gloves and untied the bag and bedroll from the back of her saddle as she asked brisk questions of the other men who’d materialized, all of whom answered her respectfully, as they should to any high ranking officer.
Then, she spoke quietly to two Lieutenants while I stood, my bag and bedroll at my feet beside a smoldering campfire, chewing on a piece of jerky and enjoying a cup of Kafk that I’d been reluctantly offered by a cook, surrounded by wary-eyed Fetch soldiers.
Those closest to me simply hovered, faces blank and eyes on me, leaving no question why they were there.
I intentionally kept my shoulders loose and my hands away from my weapons. But every hair on the back of my neck stood up, and silently I noted numbers, positions… and the utter futility of trying to fight my way out of this camp.
