“That doesn’t mean I don’t prefer to sleep in when I can.” He stands with exaggerated annoyance, all but sticking his tongue out.
“Feel free to go back to that little bunk room you insist on staying in at the barracks. You know, you’d get a bit more time if you moved to Officers Row—or stopped running with me altogether.” I shrug with a sly grin.
Matching my smile, he tugs on the hem of my shirt, pulling me toward him. “Don’t insult my bunk room,” he mutters, before dropping a kiss on my lips. Then my jaw. Then my neck. Each touch blooms, a burst of fire beneath my skin.
Reluctantly, I push his face away. “There is a real possibility my dad shoots you from the window if you keep this up here.”
“Right, right.” He recovers quickly, paling. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Cal was actually scared of my father. The thought is comical. A Silver prince, a general who can raise infernos with a flick of his fingers, afraid of a limping old Red. “Let’s stretch.”
We go through the motions, Cal more thoroughly than I. He scolds me gently, finding something wrong with every move. “Don’t lunge into it. Don’t rock back and forth. Easy, slow.” But I’m eager, thirsty to run. Eventually, he relents. With a nod of his head, he lets us begin.
At first the pace is easy. I almost dance on my toes, exhilarated by the steps. They feel like freedom. The fresh air, the birds, the mist brushing past with damp fingers. My even, steady breath and steadily rising heartbeat. The first time we ran here, I had to stop and cry, too happy to stop the tears. Cal sets a good clip, keeping me from sprinting until my lungs give out. The first mile passes well enough, getting us to the perimeter wall. Half stone, half chain link topped with razor wire, and a few soldiers patrol the far side. Montfort men. They nod to each of us, used to our route after two weeks. Other soldiers jog in the distance, running their usual training exercises, but we don’t join them. They drill in rows with shouting sergeants. It’s not for me. Cal is demanding enough. And thankfully, Davidson hasn’t pressed me on the whole “resettlement or service” choice. In fact, I haven’t seen him since my debriefing, even though he now lives on base with the rest of us.
The next two miles are more difficult. Cal pushes a harder pace. It’s hotter today, even this early, with clouds gathering overhead. As the mist burns off, I sweat hard and salt collects on my lips. Legs pumping, I wipe my face on the hem of my shirt. Cal feels the heat too. At my side, he just pulls his shirt off entirely, tucking it into the waistband of tight training pants. My first instinct is to warn him against sunburn. The second is to stop and stare at the well-defined muscles of his bare abdomen. Instead, I focus on the path before me, forcing another mile. Another. Another. His breathing beside me is suddenly very distracting.
We round the shallow forest separating the barracks and Officers Row from the airfield, when thunder rumbles somewhere. A few miles away, certainly. Cal puts out an arm at the noise, slowing me down. He snaps to face me, both hands gripping my shoulders as he leans down to my eye level. Bronze eyes bore into mine, looking for something. The thunder rolls again, closer.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, all concern. One hand strays to my neck to soothe the scars burning red hot with exertion. “Calm down.”
“That’s not me.” I tip my head toward the darkening storm clouds with a smile. “That’s just weather. Sometimes, when it gets too hot and humid, thunderstorms can—”
He laughs. “Okay, I get it. Thank you.”
“Ruining a perfectly good run,” I tut, moving my hand to take his. He grins crookedly, smiling so wide it crinkles his eyes. As the storm moves closer, I feel its electric heart thrumming. My pulse steadies to match it, but I push away the seductive purr of lightning. Can’t let loose a storm so close.
I have no control of rain, and it falls in a sudden curtain, making us both yelp. Whatever bits of my clothes weren’t covered in sweat quickly soak through. The sudden cold is a shock to us both, Cal in particular.
His bare skin steams, wrapping his torso and arms in a thin layer of gray mist. Raindrops hiss when they make contact, flash-boiling. As he calms, it stops, but he still pulses with warmth. Without thought, I tuck into him, shivering down my spine.
“We should go back,” he mutters to the top of my head. I feel his voice reverberate in his chest, my palm flat to where his heart rips a fast tempo. It thunders under my touch, in stark contrast to his calm face.