Page 4 of Revealing Fate

“Ah,” he said, raising a finger. “But now he is definitely no threat. I like those odds better.”

“You can’t keep killing people, Kal,” Felíne insisted, scowling.

“You sound like someone else I know,” he grumbled.

She stepped over a thick branch, and Kal reached back automatically to help steady her. The unfortunate nomad—Felíne doubted he was an assassin—must have wandered miles from the nearest known road to reach their temporary camp. He’d startled her, and Kal had reacted. “Well, whoever it was that gave you similar advice was onto something. Maybe you should listen for a change.”

When they reached Sig, Kal boosted her into the saddle and rested a hand on her calf. Felíne forcibly ignored the pleasant tingle his touch sent up into her belly.

“Kitty. I am alive today because of that feeling. You as well. When I get it, I don’t ignore it. So, contrary to your opinion, I do listen.”

Felíne vividly remembered being dragged into the desert by the hunters her father had sent to rescue her. The raven-haired swordmaster, Tavene, and her monstrous blond companion, Drexan. She recalled the way Drexan’s salacious gaze had roved over her while he’d fondled himself. The way that innocent woman’s head had separated from her shoulders when the hunters’ third companion, Femoran, had cut her down at the wedding venue. The way Boden’s body had crumpled on the platform, riddled with crossbow bolts, mere hours after marrying his lovely bride. Meryl’s haunted gaze and declaration of war.

She could feel the shadow of her own terror like an ominous specter hovering too close.

An involuntary shudder worked its way down Felíne’s spine. Kal had found her, partly by skill and mostly by instinct. If he hadn’t, she’d have been carried back to Asteros, and the people of Cindamar—people she had grown to care for—would have faced certain death at the hands of the king’s army. Her father’s army. Not to mention, she may not have been returned wholly unmolested.

So, yes. Perhaps Kal’s intuition when it came to potential threats was worth trusting.

“Fine. I will trust your beastly instincts if you can at least try to avoid killing anyone who isn’t a direct threat. It’s not right.”

He grunted, and Felíne took it as acquiescence.

“Also, can you do something about the body?”

Kal hesitated.

Felíne puzzled over his reservation for a moment before rolling her eyes skyward. “Kalevar Kaine. I am perfectly capable of sitting here, unsupervised and unmoving, while you clean up your mess. If any other unfortunate travelers happen upon me, I’ll be sure to yell loudly so you can come and do away with them, too.”

Kal’s lips quirked. He patted her leg and returned the way they’d come, leaving her to wait with Sig.

Half an hour later, with Kal’s most recent victim sufficiently disposed of—how exactly that had been accomplished, Felíne thought better than to ask—they resumed their trek. They’d reached the outskirts of the Saraat Desert, and the landscape had slowly transformed. Sig no longer plodded over dry, packed earth and crisp shrubbery. Now, short grasses grew in the rocky soil, and trees were fuller and more abundant. These offered an actual reprieve from the relentless sun, rather than the wispy, infrequent shadows cast by the desert trees’ naked branches. They’d continued away from the main roads and kept close to the base of the mountains, winding their way up and around.

Kal was willing to spend the additional time in the wilds if it meant avoiding notice. An achievement they hadn’t entirely accomplished in the past two days since leaving Cindamar, evidenced by Kal’s three casualties. He’d been more insufferable than usual, his paranoia reaching impressive heights ever since Tavene and Drexan had taken her. It was as though Kal was convinced she would vanish into thin air if he took his eyes off her for more than a moment.

Felíne might have, if she thought there was any chance of successfully sneaking away. She still needed to get back to Asteros. Her twenty-fifth birthday was less than three months away, which meant her presentation to the Primordial Male was imminent. An entire race of people depended on that coupling’s success.

The thought soured her stomach.

It shouldn’t have. This was her birthright, after all. The only way to break the Goddess’s curse. The only way to save the shurii from extinction. Her people.

Sig did a slight hop over a fallen log. The movement jostled Felíne, and Kal’s arm wound instinctively around her waist.

What kind of life would Felíne imagine for herself if she were allowed such freedom? It wouldn’t contain the weight of responsibility that she currently shouldered. It wouldn’t involve her being promised to a male she’d never met.

Instead?

Felíne glanced down to where Kal’s forearm rested, a comfortable weight against her abdomen. She visually traced the raised ridge of a vein and saw his muscle flex slightly under his golden-brown skin as Sig rocked beneath them. If she had a choice, she might have placed her hand over his arm, gathered him closer, and settled back fully into his chest. She might have allowed herself to feel him against her, around her, without mentally scolding herself every time she enjoyed his proximity.

Felíne’s mind immediately returned to the night Kal rescued her from the hunters. Kal had seriously wounded Tavene and killed Drexan after nearly being killed himself.

She’d been terrified. Exhausted. Drunk on adrenaline. Kal had been battered and bloodied. She remembered his gold-streaked eyes: wild and entirely focused on her.

He’d kissed her without forethought or restraint. It was the first time anyone had done so, and she met his heat with her own reckless abandon.

Felíne had mentally replayed that moment a hundred times. She was mortified by how well she recalled every taste, scent, and sensation. Of how desperately she wanted to experience all of it again…with him.

Kal inhaled deeply and dropped his head next to hers. “What are you thinking about, Kitty?”