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A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(42)

Author:Amanda Bouchet

“I’m alive.” My throat hurts from screaming. My voice is a hoarse rasp. “That’s all you need.”

He blows out a long breath, stirring the hair at the top of my head. “You do realize you’re both stubborn and infuriating?”

I don’t answer. Does he really expect me to agree?

“If I didn’t need you so much I’d have—”

“—killed me by now?” I supply.

He chuckles. The sound vibrates through me, disturbing and much too intimate. “Let you go. Just to be rid of you.”

I lift my head enough to glare.

As if it were a normal thing to do, Beta Sinta sweeps his hand up and down my spine in slow, soothing strokes. “Come eat something. You haven’t eaten in hours, and we finally have food you like.”

Warmth follows the path of his hand, heating more than just my back. I feel it in the strangest places. Coiling deep inside of me. Spiraling through my belly. Tingling along my ribs.

Neither of us moves. I eventually gather the strength, or maybe the will, to push off and stumble away from him. I get this awful feeling the second I leave his arms—I want to be back in them.

My eyes wide, I back away, a tangle of fear and emotion knotting in my chest. I’m used to being scared, but this time is different. This time, I’m afraid of myself.

*

Beta Sinta changes his mind about going straight to Sinta City. We stay in Velos for nearly a week and then wander the nearby countryside like vagabonds, waiting for something to happen. I keep saying we should run. Hiding is what I do, but he wants to find out who’s chasing me, and I won’t tell him.

At this point, I’d be safer in Sinta City, in the castle. There’s an army there. But he doesn’t want to draw mysterious enemies into the heart of the realm, and he wants to protect his family and his perfect sister who smiles for widows and orphans and has Sintans falling on the ground to kiss her feet. Gag! She won’t last another month as Alpha.

On the bright side, I get to have an opinion now. What do I want to eat? Do I need to get off the horse? Do I want three or four feet of rope? Which side do I sleep on?

Fruit, I’m used to the horse, four feet, and on the left.

Beta Sinta even offers to show me how to use the sword he bought me in Velos. In his arrogance, he actually thought I’d need lessons. As soon as he hands me my blade, I nick his chin and draw blood.

His eyes narrow as he wipes his chin on his sleeve. “I thought you knew knives.”

“I’m better with knives.” I thrust again. He blocks this time, throwing me back so hard I almost fall over. I might have, if not for the rope. It’s awkward sparring like this, but I’m too happy to be doing something different to complain. “That doesn’t mean I can’t use a sword.”

“You fight dirty,” he mutters.

I grin. “Is there any other way?”

He plays with me for a while. I hold my own because he’s holding back. One swing with his true strength and I’d buckle instantly.

“Can’t beat a girl?” I taunt, knowing he won’t hurt me. Not much, anyway. “Has the big, bad warlord gone all soft?”

“Do you have a death wish?” Beta Sinta stalks forward and nearly knocks the sword from my hand. The vibration rattles my bones from fingers to shoulder.

I roll my eyes. “I wish. That would make my life—or lack thereof—so much easier.”

Flynn, Kato, and Carver chuckle on our right. I flick my braid over my shoulder and give them the evil eye. “Laugh all you want, ladies. You’re next.”

“No thanks,” Flynn says. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Poor Flynn.” I sigh. “So scared.”

They laugh. Unfortunately, I do, too. I drop my guard, and Beta Sinta steps in, disarms me, and sweeps my legs out from under me. I crash to the ground, the wind knocked out of me. He follows me down, pinning me with a classic grappling move I saw coming from miles away but was too slow to do anything about.

He ends up on top of me, his face mere inches from mine. The air flees my lungs again but for entirely different reasons. I can’t help wondering about the laugh lines around the corners of his eyes, or noticing how the outer rims of his irises are more silver than gray. He hasn’t shaved in days, and the beard shadowing his cheeks looks almost long enough to be soft. The dark whiskers frame his wide mouth and highlight the sensual curve of his full lips—lips I keep looking at.

His hair falls forward, caging us. His eyes turn that stormy gray. They remind me of the ocean on a wild, windy dawn just before the sun kisses the horizon. I bet if he looked at me a certain way…

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