Page 71 of Her Mercenary
Roman nodded to a large rock at the drop-off. He’d already tossed it to me while I was pretending to be a mermaid. I swam over, grabbed the soap, paused, and glanced over my shoulder.
He smirked, shook his head, and turned around.
I pulled myself onto the rock and began vigorously scrubbing my body, washing away the stink and slime from the men who’d held me captive. Washing away the dirt, the blood, the flashbacks, the memories.
I imagined clumps of the last two weeks dropping off my body, slowly disappearing into the black water below. I scrubbed my hair, my face, inhaling the fresh scent, smiling like an idiot. Finally, I dipped under, like a bird in a birdbath, happy for the first time in weeks. Feeling like I was shedding all the bad things that had happened to me.
When I resurfaced, Roman had turned and was watching me.
He was nothing but a black silhouette now, a large, looming presence. One that made me feel 100 percent safe.
We stared at each other a long moment.
“Come in,” I whispered, but he hesitated. “Come in.”
He moved slowly, wading across the shallows, then dipped into the water, slipping off the edge and into the pool.
He kept his distance.
Holding up the soap, I slowly swam over to him. My heart began to pound.
Roman stood strong and rigid as I approached. I stopped inches in front of him.
His eyes were intense with thought. Something was on his mind.
“How did you know Ardri translated to high king in Gaelic?” he asked softly.
I frowned, tracing memories back to the cave after he’d saved me. “Oh. I remember it from a fairy tale ... one that my mom would read to me when I was a little girl.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well ...” I ran my fingers through my wet hair, fidgeting with the bottom strands. “It was stereotypical European folklore, the knight saving the damsel in distress. The princess, the dragon, the whole thing. I had a crush on the hero for years. Literally.”
“Because he saved her.”
“I guess so.”
Roman reached forward, took the strand of hair I was fidgeting with, and gently placed it behind my shoulder. “What if the hero was also the villain?” he whispered, stepping closer.
“You’re not bad, Roman,” I whispered back.
“Yes, I am. Answer my question. What if the hero was also the villain? What if he is imperfect?”
I lifted my deformed hand. “So am I.”
He wrapped his hands around my hand and kissed the nub where my pinky finger should have been.
I placed my other hand on his chest, leaning in. “Maybe in this fairy tale, we could find a way to save each other.”
Something in his eyes flashed.
“Roman, I—”
“May I kiss you?” he whispered, almost breathlessly.
“Yes.”
My heart thundered as he gently wrapped his hands around my face, leaned down, and kissed me under the moonlight.