Page 102 of Stealing Embers
I will it to keep working.
Closing my eyes, I try to pretend I’m somewhere else. Somewhere toasty warm. The shudders that wrack my body make the illusion particularly hard to conjure.
How did I find myself in this position? Aren’t I smarter than this?
I survived the harsh world for over seventeen years without a soul truly looking out for me. I used to think I was street smart, but listening to my teeth chatter while I’m trying to warm up an unconscious half-human, while trapped on a deserted mountain, makes me second guess that assumption.
“Follow Tinker Bell on a free climb. Yeah, seemed like a good idea at the time.”
The twinkly ball of light vibrates and glows red before dimming out again.
“Touchy, are we?” I ask.
It darkens even more, dipping our temporary shelter in shadows.
That’s fine with me. I thrive in the shadows.
My lids slip closed, exhaustion or hypothermia forcing them shut. At the moment, I don’t really care which one it is, since it causes my muscles to relax and the tremors shaking my body to abate.
The skin beneath my cheek isn’t warm, but it also isn’t as cold anymore.
As my mind starts to wander, I allow it to reach for the darkness. Maybe when consciousness returns to me, I’ll discover this has all been a nightmare.
That is as good of an explanation for this predicament as any other.
Just before I’m engulfed by sweet oblivion, I send up a silent plea for the half-dead man beneath me.
I may not like him, but some part of me is strangely protective of him. There is a connection between us neither of us wants to acknowledge, but a buried part of me knows I’d never recover from his loss.
* * *
“Mmmmm,” I cuddle into the warm rock beneath me and ignore the crick in my neck because the heat is delicious.
Something jabs me between the ribs and I twitch away from it. With closed lids, I reach a hand down to massage the sore spot, only to find myself poked on the other side.
“Ouch!”
Curling on my side, I slip off my perch and bounce on the uneven ground. The blow shocks me fully awake.
Snapping my eyelids open, I see my reflection in a pair of teal-colored orbs.
“What happened?” Steel’s sleep-soaked voice rumbles.
A breath catches in my throat.
“You’re alive. I mean, you’re awake.”
I curl to a sitting position.
Using his arms for support, Steel slowly rolls the top part of his frame so he is sitting as well. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, depriving me of that lovely Caribbean ocean blue.
“Yeah, I’m awake . . . and alive.”
With his eyes still squeezed shut, he cranes his neck from side to side. The cracking vertebrae echo off the enclosed space around us. Bringing a hand to his head, he itches the back of it before opening a lid and eyeing the pink sweater wrapped around his bicep. “What am I wearing?”
Folding my arms over my chest, I lift an eyebrow. “Angora. It’s very warm. You should be grateful I grabbed that one instead of the cotton knit.”
Baring his upper teeth at me, he lets me know he’s not amused. A look of disgust washes over his face as he surveys the rest of his body from his chest down to his toes.