Free In His Sights (Don't Tell) by Rie Warren Page B

lives so you better get used to it.” In spite of his harsh words, his hands were tender as he rid me of the dark blue uniform, saying he was taking it outside to burn it.
    I let tears fall from my eyes and few laughs slip from my lips, relief and worry overwhelming me. Mayce returned with a bowl of steaming water and cloth in hand. He set about washing me off and cleaning my wounds. He checked all tender points for breaks and fractures. He kissed my lips so softly I soon forgot about my incarceration if only for a few minutes.
    Setting the cloth aside, he undressed and curled against me beneath the blankets. “They fucked you up, but I’ll put you back together.”
    His hot tears slid along my neck.
    “They didn’t kill my spirit,” I whispered.
    He choked against me, his body convulsing.
    “Don’t cry, love.”
    “How can I not?” He clasped my face. “You’re still beautiful, baby…” His shoulders shaking, he dropped his head. “I wanted to get you out earlier. I’m so sorry they did this to you.”
    I smoothed my hands down his back. “It’s done now.”
    He raised his face, fire in his eyes. “We’re getting out of this hell.”
    “There’s still a war to fight, Mayce.”
    “You know what? I don’t give a shit about that right now. You could’ve died!”
    “You could’ve been found out, killed in combat.” Vestigial fear ramped through me.
    “We made it though.” He joined his hands with mine. “You need some R&R…and someone to take care of you.”
    “That someone’s you?”
    Fingering the red string he wore on his finger, he nodded. “Fucking right it is.”
    The maelstrom of distress, always the dread for his safety, washed away. “I wanna end every day like this.” I finally succumbed to Mayce’s warm embrace.
    “We will.”
    “You’ll come home with me?” I tiredly slurred against his strong shoulder.
    “My home is you.”

C HAPTER S IX
    M AYCE
    It took three days to get Hawke fully operational after his imprisonment. I cared for him night and day, which I think he loved even though he was a grumpy grumbling shit about it. All it took was a touch, a look, a kiss to wipe away his fake glare and make his eyes turn that startling silver-green color that had first caught my attention.
    His body healed quickly, but nightmares made him scream awake. He wrestled away from me and the blankets until he crouched in a corner of our tent, shaking from his head to his feet. All I could do was approach him gently and coax him into my arms. I knew what they’d done to him—the evidence was on his skin—but it tapped far deeper into his mind.
    Decamping ASAP was the smartest idea. I was now a wanted defector known to have a Nomad prisoner under my protection. We tramped through the Wilderness, guided by Hawke’s band of warriors. Each early October day on the southern route grew warmer. The trail became thicker, overgrown with underbrush, overhung by trees.
    “They’re coming around to you.” Hawke hiked beside me, keeping his balance with a thick tree limb I’d carved into a walking stick, where before he’d have leaped nimbly over fallen logs.
    I snorted. “Yeah. I can tell. Ryder stopped waving his meat cleaver around in front of my face.”
    I was tempted to call Ryder Little Red Riding Hood on account of his blazing red hair. The name came from an Old History children’s story my mom once told me, from a book banned decades before I was born. I’d decided against giving him the nickname to his face, deciding I preferred my head still attached to my neck.
    “It’s a machete.” Hawke winked, laughing at me.
    “Whatever.” I pulled him in for a quick kiss on the lips. I dreamed of having his mouth all over my body. We hadn’t made love since his capture. I wouldn’t rush him, but my balls ached and I wanted nothing more than the skin-on-skin connection we’d shared from the first.
    During the trek that saw one week turning into two, I learned Janus the optimist was