Taking it from her in a gripped fist, The Villain twisted the scarf around his middle and cinched it tight to stanch the bleeding. “You think I’m pretty?”
Oddly enough, Evie had the feeling he would’ve preferred to have been called grotesque for the way his face twisted with distaste.
“That’s not a think scenario—that’s just objective. Look how symmetrical your cheekbones are.” She closed the distance between them and placed her hands on either side of his face.
His eyes widened and so did hers when she realized what she was doing.
“You’re touching my face,” he said flatly.
“…Yes.”
“Are you happy with that decision?” He raised one dark brow again.
He’s a professional killer, right? Maybe he’ll murder me now if I ask very nicely.
“I was trying to prove a point.” She shrugged, letting her hands drop back to her sides.
Shaking his head, a small dose of wonder in his eyes, he said, “You are chaos.”
“Would you mind writing that out as an employment reference? I’d have a job within the week, and I desperately need work.” Before he could reply, there was a quiet rustle in the bushes beside them that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.
Twisting her head in the direction of the noise, she took a wary step closer to The Villain, who grabbed her shoulders quick as lightning and tugged her toward him. “What—”
She heard the arrow before she felt it.
Pain sliced through the skin of her back as the arrow skimmed her shoulders, sending her reeling into the solidness of The Villain’s chest. “That hurt.” The words came out matter-of-factly, like she’d just gotten a splinter.
They’d been spotted, but there was still no panic in his voice when he said, “It only grazed you. I know it hurts, but we must run.” He turned her quickly but gently, and they started in the other direction, The Villain with a slight limp from his injuries.
“Put your arm around me.” He winced as they dashed around several trees, Evie a step behind.
“Why?” she huffed back as he tugged her closer. “You’re moving just as slow as I am!”
A flash of amusement crossed his face like a burning star, bright and beautiful for a moment, then gone beyond the horizon. “I’m going slower to keep pace with you.”
It struck Evie then. How her predicament had escalated from unemployed butcher’s daughter to aiding and abetting this kingdom’s greatest enemy in an alarmingly short amount of time.
Good grief, maybe she was chaos. Had it even been half an hour?
Which suggested a very delicate question. One Evie should do well not to remind him of. But it was too late—the thought formed on her lips before she could push it back in. “Why are you bothering to keep pace with me in the first place? You could easily leave me in the dust and use the time they’re dealing with me to get away.”
Yes, Evangelina. Give him reasons to leave you behind and explain why you were running with The Villain in the first place. Sign your death warrant. Well done!
He held her gaze for a second, still managing to dodge an arrow that whizzed by without breaking eye contact. Evie was jealous. She couldn’t dodge a dead tree if she was staring right at it.
“Such ruthless thinking, Miss…？” She was pleased to hear notes of fatigue behind his words. He wasn’t a skilled runner. He wasn’t perfect, wasn’t invincible.
He was, however, asking her name. “Evangelina Sage…or just Evie.” Okay, perhaps his voice was a little weary, but hers sounded like it had been through a cheese grater. Running had never been her friend, and running fast, she believed, was her mortal enemy.
“Hmph” was his only response, which was discomfiting, since he hadn’t revealed if he was going to take her viciously good advice and leave her behind.
It was probable that some of the men from the village would recognize her, but the chances of them letting her live, when they seemed in such a bloodthirsty state, were slim. Especially considering she was running beside the person they were hunting, who was probably about to trip her and feed her to the wolves.
Of course, because the universe was against her, she didn’t need to wait for him to do the deed himself. A stray branch hidden beneath the bramble jutted out just enough to catch the tip of her boot, and then she was falling clumsily to the earth.
The call of more male voices was nearly upon them. They were screwed.
Or rather, she was screwed. The Villain would probably take her wool scarf and ride his evil countenance into the sunset. She stared at the back of his head from the ground. At the clean, efficient way his body moved. As if the world was made to bend to his will.