Free Horde (Enclave Series) by Ann Aguirre Page A

determination. “I’m not letting the Freaks get the best of me.”
    Deep down I was delighted to hear him say that. The Fade I knew didn’t accept defeat; he’d always fought—and won—against unbeatable odds. But I didn’t feel like I could put a limit on him or say the way he was acting was wrong when I hadn’t suffered the same pain. I could only stand by him and offer a shoulder, whether he took me up on it or not.
    “I’m glad.”
    “It will take time,” he warned. “I can’t wish this away. Believe me, if I could, I would .”
    “I know. And we got by before, just thinking about touching.” Or I had, anyway. I hadn’t been bold enough to stroke his hair down in the enclave, but I’d spent a lot of time watching him and wondering what it would be like.
    “The thinking might do me in,” he muttered.
    It took me a few seconds to process what he meant, then heat washed my cheeks. So he missed it, too. “Well, maybe that’s a good thing.”
    “I was dreaming about you. When they took me.” Since he was talking about it—when he’d said he would only tell the story once—that had to be good. “It was warm and lovely, and I half roused, thinking you were coming to me in the night. Since Frank was there, I was afraid to make any noise, afraid we’d both get in trouble. I was wrong, and then it all turned to pain.”
    “I should have heard something,” I said, clenching a fist.
    “Don’t blame yourself. You weren’t on watch.”
    “But I knew there was a problem with the sentries. I could’ve stopped it. But I think you were right … neither of us can change what happened. We can only move on.”
    “You know what bothers me most? I didn’t smell the one that took me. I’ve gone over every moment, and I should’ve scented the Freak. Why didn’t I?”
    “We all should have,” I said, frowning. “But there was no stench the night one of them crept in and stole our fire, either.”
    “So what does that mean?” Fade asked.
    “Nothing good.” I was too tired to speculate this evening.
    I didn’t bother asking where we could sleep. Answers might require waiting longer than I could stay awake. My body demanded I get prone at once. If I didn’t listen, I’d collapse, and though I might not be a Huntress, I didn’t want to be seen as weak, either. So I found a quiet corner near the back wall, away from the wounded clustered in the center. Fade and I would be fine on the floor with a roof over our heads; we’d slept in worse places.
    “Rest well,” I said softly, and Fade replied with the first real smile I’d seen in days.
    He bedded down a small distance away, just out of arm’s reach, and I rolled up in my blankets, facing him. His familiar features comforted me. Over my time at the outpost, I had developed a soldier’s ability to turn off my brain and snatch sleep when I could, but it was a light doze. I roused at a touch, and half pushed myself upright, expecting to see someone who needed my help. Instead, I found Fade pressed up against me, still wrapped in his covers. I squeezed my eyes shut for a few seconds, startled by the urge to cry, just from the welcome pressure of his arm across my waist. It meant everything that he was drawn to me like this. There were problems in his waking mind, but when he dreamed, like he’d said, it was of me. I couldn’t resist. Gently, I touched his hair, stroking my fingers through the tousled strands, and he puffed out a contented sigh. It wasn’t enough to wake him.
    I drifted off happier than I had been since before they took him. Drowsily I decided the last time I’d felt this good was the night of the festival; it was my golden moment too. In the morning, I woke to light slanting into my eyes. Fade was still wrapped around me, sleeping, and I didn’t stir, even though I needed to for various reasons. I feared waking him and seeing the conflict in his eyes.
    I braced for it; and when he shifted, bumping against me, I was surprised