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I nodded at his leg. “Paige fixed your leg.”
He tilted his head, lifting his hand to mid-chest like a marker. “Blonde? Blue eyed? Skittish little thing?”
My heart caught at his description, then started pounding. I slammed my hands against the bars that now protected him from me as I snarled, “Leave her alone.”
He backed away, raising his hands. “I didn’t touch her,” he swore, his eyes steady on mine. “It’s not your little sister I’m interested in.”
“You saw her?” I questioned, my voice dangerously low.
He nodded slowly, watching me.
“Explain,” I demanded.
“When you two were in here,” he indicated the cage with a flick of his fingers, “I woke up as you were talking.”
My forehead wrinkled as I said, “But that was hours ago.”
His eyes widened questioningly, but I shook my head, waving my hand for him to continue as I processed the new information.
“You left. She healed my leg,” he concluded quickly, pacing back toward me. His hands settled on either side of mine, their warmth matching my own. “That’s all.”
I raised my head to meet his beautifully matched eyes, their color rivaling an October sky. “You spoke to her,” I said, letting my voice lift encouragingly on the last word. He squinted, eyeing me suspiciously. “Don’t lie,” I warned, my fingers curling tightly around the bars as our breath mingled in the cold air.
“Spoke isn’t exactly the word I’d use,” he replied carefully, his gaze never leaving mine. “Seeing as how she doesn’t speak.” All the air left me in a rush as my head bumped the bars.
“You know.”
“That she’s deaf?” He lowered his head, a little too close for comfort but I didn’t pull back, trusting the bars to keep him at a distance. “I noticed.”
“She talked to you.”
He cocked his head. “We had a conversation.”
It was my turn to glance at him questioningly, keeping my eyelashes lowered to hide my mismatched eyes.
She seemed surprised when I answered, he answered mentally, testing me and I heard him exhale when I blinked. You can hear me. It was a statement but I dipped my head in acknowledgement anyway. Talk to me, he pleaded, our faces separated only by the bars of the cage I’d placed him in.
“I thought we had been talking,” I replied, continuing to speak aloud.
Not what I mean, he chided and I pressed my lips together, knowing what he wanted. Please.
“Why does it matter?” I asked, feeling desperate as the moment grew more intimate. “There’s no need for me to speak to you telepathically.”
You do it with your sister, he retorted, his lips twisting to form a pout, and I flattened my mouth before a smile could escape.
“Out of necessity,” I reminded him, keeping my expression severe.
You could do it with me, he cajoled and I shook my head again.
“Why does it matter?” I repeated.
It’s something Pack mates do, he answered.
“Something we’re not,” I was quick to point out. He ducked his head, and I sucked in a shaky breath at his nearness.
We could be more, he claimed, the thought a gossamer strand linking us. My eyes drifted shut as a fierce pang of longing shot through me. It wasn’t often I thought about the things I’d missed out on, but somehow he managed to stir up memories I’d thought long buried.
“That,” my tongue darted out, moistening suddenly dry lips, “That would be a mistake.”
Would it? He questioned, his voice sounding far away. Warm breath drifted over my forehead. What’s your name? My eyes popped open at the abrupt subject change and his cheek creased, revealing a dimple. Come on, you know you want to tell me.
“Actually, I don’t think I do, Captain America,” I retorted, straightening my spine. “You won’t be around long enough to use it.” His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit but his next question took me by surprise.
“What’s with the Captain America?” He glanced down at himself and I was hard-pressed not to do the same. “Do I look like a solider boy to you?”
“You got the boy part right,” I sniped and his lip curled up in amusement. “But it’s more the blond, blue-eyed, corn fed look you have going.”
“Ahh,” he nodded understandingly. “I can see everything but the corn fed bit.” He leaned forward confidingly, our foreheads almost brushing. “I’m more a meat eater to be honest.” I bit the inside of my lip to keep from smiling and he squinted, angling his head. “Are you? Is that a smile trying to escape?” I shook my head the tiniest bit and he hummed. “Not sure I’m buying it, Princess.”
His condescending nickname wiped any hint of a smile from my expression as I glared at him. “What did you call me?”
“Prin-cess,” he enunciated helpfully, nodding. “Since you like nicknames I thought I’d give you one.”
“And that’s the one you came up with?” I rolled my eyes, glancing off to the side. “How original.”
