Page 89 of Marked

By the time we reached Nala and our bows, the sun had crested the horizon, and the city bustled with noise on the other side of the bridge behind us.

Nala had curled up in a tight ball at the base of the salal bushes, her nose tucked into her hind legs. At our approach, her head popped up, and she let out an excited yip.

I blinked and she was right in front of me with a wide grin, jumping up and knocking me to the ground. Pinning me in the dirt with both paws on my chest, she licked my face.

“Ugh.” I reached up and grabbed her face to ruffle her fur. “I missed you, too, you big baby.”

She kept licking, and I thrashed side to side to avoid her tongue in my mouth.

“Nala, stop it.” I pushed her away, or at least tried to. She was very persistent. “Ace, help.”

He chuckled somewhere off to the side. “You’re on your own, Mouse.”

I rolled and slowly got up, which was hard to do with a giant wolf insistent on keeping her snout in my face.

“That’s enough.” I pushed her head away with a laugh.

She whined, but thankfully settled down while I wiped the saliva off my face with my shirt sleeve.

Ace leaned against a tree, arms crossed with his one leg bent to hook his ankle over the other. His lips quirked up at the corners. “Now, I guess I know where that mouth’s been.”

“You sound jealous.” I scratched Nala behind the ears. “Want a kiss?”

He shook his head. “Tempting, but no.”

I paused and met his gaze over Nala’s fluffy fur. He stood off to the side, his stance radiating quiet danger, relaxed but at the same time ready to launch into battle. He looked tired, and despite being with me, he looked lonely. Almost sad.

Nala whined again and Ace tore his gaze away from me. Without a word, he retrieved our weapons and held out my bow and quiver.

“Thanks,” I said. I ran my hand over the fletching in my quiver. I set out with eight and eight remained. How did the killer or killers gain access to my arrows? Did they steal them from my house? My kills? Or had they expertly copied me? I should’ve stolen the murder weapon from the Death House to compare the arrowhead and the twine.

“All there?” Ace nodded at my quiver.

“Yeah.” I glanced at a bed of spongy moss. “I could take a nap right here.”

“In less than an hour, you can be in your own bed.” Ace buckled his quiver around his hips and strung his bow across his shoulders. “Let’s get back to Perga.”

I glanced back at the path that led to the city. Paul could take care of himself, but we hadn’t discussed a plan if we’d become separated.

“He’s either way ahead of us or he’ll follow us when it’s a more decent hour,” Ace said. “If he’s still in the city, he’ll see our missing bows when he comes this way. He can take care of himself.”

“I know,” I said.

“It will be okay, Mouse.”

“I know.” I reluctantly followed Ace along the path and tried to shake away the heat building inside my chest. Why was he being kind? Caring? Thoughtful? And why did I have to respond this way?

I couldn’t possibly like this asshole again. I’d spent way too much time in my youth liking him, obsessing about him, having a giant crush. Just because he was giving me some attention now, didn’t mean I had to return those feelings. It certainly didn’t mean I should forget all the pain he’d caused me and Paul.

Nala trotted along beside me, her fuzzy face constantly turning up so she could lock those dark eyes on me. She bumped her body into my leg every third step or so as if to reassure herself that I was really there beside her. She still limped a little—her injury likely bothering her after staying put in colder weather overnight. I’d bathe her in heat and feed her some rich meat when we got home to make up for having to sleep outside.

Neither Ace nor I spoke.

We made it back to Perga in record time. The cool morning air clung to the edges of the town as Ace and I walked down the main road. As we passed the warm glow of the bakery, the scent of freshly baked bread beckoning me closer, Maria’s voice cut through the morning like a sweet melody. “Emi! Ace! How’d the hunting go?”

She’d opened the window where she sold the baked goods and leaned over the counter, her ample breasts squished and on display just as much as the pastries in the basket beside her.

I looked away from the curiosity in her gaze, unwilling to share any of the details of our trip, and scanned the pastries instead.