The Wind's Call (The Broken Lands #4) - T.A. White Page 0,81
her. That might force her to dig her heels in harder just to be difficult.
He had years of experience hiding his thoughts from the most perceptive people in the world. If they couldn’t read him, he knew this infuriating, tempting woman stood no chance.
It made it easy to maintain a serious and no-nonsense expression—even when her frown deepened, and she regarded him with a level of suspicion he couldn’t help being flattered over. You would think he was one of those tricky mythologicals from the way she glared.
Reluctantly, she held out an arm, not managing to hide a wince as she caught a glimpse of the scraped skin running the length of her forearm.
He made a soft sound, crooning to her in much the same way she did her horses as he dipped two fingers into the container of green gunk, smearing it on the raw and abraded skin. How had he not known she was this injured?
This should have been treated hours ago.
He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised she hadn’t told him earlier. The woman was nothing if not stubborn.
"I saw you take the fall," he said softly, not moving his eyes from her arm. "I thought for sure you'd broken your neck."
Caden had survived many things—experiences that would have destroyed other men. None of them had compared to watching her tumble down that hill and know there wasn’t a damn thing in the world he could do but watch.
The helplessness he’d felt had threatened to send him to a very dark place. Only when she had stood and sprinted away had he felt like he could breathe again.
It was a feeling he never wanted to relive.
"Sorry to disappoint. I couldn't make your life that easy," Eva said in a tired voice, a ghost of a smile gracing her face.
He grunted, folding her arm back beneath the jacket before reaching for the next. Foolish girl. Though no more foolish than him. If he was smart, he’d turn her over to Drake and Jane and have nothing else to do with her. His Anateri were every bit as capable of him.
But he knew as he looked over her other arm, he was going to do nothing of the sort. She was in his blood now. Gods help them all, because he had no intention of forcing her out.
"You’re resilient. I’ll give you that," Caden said, sitting back on his heels when he finished. Perhaps a little too resilient.
A less resilient person might be more motivated to stay out of harm’s way.
The sun hovered above the horizon. The glow of dusk before the clouds started their sunset display made it easy to read the narrow-eyed look she sent him.
"We'll stay here for the night," he said, ignoring that look. "Once night falls, we'll be without the fire. I can't risk its light drawing anything to us."
"I don't suppose you have two bedrolls in that pack?" she asked hopefully.
This time Caden didn’t bother to smother his grin. "I'm afraid not. You're lucky I had as much as I did. I'd just returned from scouting, otherwise I would have had to come after you with nothing."
Eva made a small, noncommittal sound, but didn’t argue.
That was one nice thing about her. She never lamented the things that couldn’t be changed.
"Why did you decide to become an Anateri?" Eva finally asked after a short silence.
Caden controlled his surprise at the shift in topic. "What brought this on?"
Eva shrugged, affecting nonchalance. "Figured I should get to know the man who seems intent on dogging my every step."
Caden sat back, silent for several minutes. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to answer, more that he didn’t know how.
"You don't have to answer if you're scared," she offered with a sly smile.
"Yes, one small herd mistress terrifies me," he murmured, settling back on one arm as he stretched out next to the fire.
A small, playful smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.
He stared into the valley, his face settling into pensive lines. Quiet fell between them.
"The three of us—Fallon, Darius, and me—are childhood friends," Caden finally said. "We shared a similar set of tragic circumstances surrounding our beginning."
Sometimes those memories felt so far away. Other times he only had to breathe to brush up against them. They stalked him in his dreams; something he would never admit to another. He didn’t like thinking of those days. They reminded him of how he’d once been weak; something he would never be again.