Page 110 of The Reaping Rose

I mask that thought with a grin when she glances behind her.

Her eyebrow lifts, tugging on her scar. I want to know how she got it. I want to know everything about her.

“You done patting yourself on the back for taking down the tent, or do you need to stare at the trees for another few minutes before we go?” she asks.

At least her attitude is back this morning.

“Waiting on you, lightning strike.” My eyebrows pull, mulling that over. “Lightning bolt? Lightning heart. We’ll work on that.”

“Are you seriously trying to give me a nickname? No. Just… no,” she grumbles, shoving past me and walking down the path ahead.

I can’t help but chuckle. At least if she’s angry, she’s feeling something that isn’t whatever gave her that defeated look last night. I’ll happily irritate her if it pulls her out of her sadness.

The trees groan as we pass through the forest. There’s no breeze, but the branches move.

Echme is terrifying. I felt it the moment I stepped inside and wanted to turn back around. A pulse throbs in the air.

Unsteady.

Unpredictable.

I’ve been at the point of a blade in battle thousands of times, but I’ve never been as on edge as I am since crossing Echme’s border. We can’t finish this mission fast enough.

Not that I say that out loud, or Greer would probably laugh at me.

She’s terrifying in an entirely different way. One that makes me want to throw her over my shoulder, carry her to my bed, and prove that she wants me as much as she seems to hate me just so I can spend all night making her beg.

My gaze runs her over. Lithe frame, but tall and strong. Sure steps. Her leathers hug her hourglass hips, and she walks with a steady rhythm that distracts me from the humming between the trees. Her long black hair is tied in a hundred tiny braids that fall halfway down her back.

Greer’s beauty alone is enough to bring me to my knees—something she might enjoy if she gave me the chance—but it’s everything else that has me in a chokehold.

Like her angry eyes darting over her shoulder, narrowing when she catches me staring at her ass.

Not my fault she’s so godsdamned beautiful.

Something stirs in the air, and Greer freezes. Flames tickle the tips of my fingers, dancing heat through my veins. I stretch my magic outward, sending a wave of heat to sense what might be waiting for us through the trees.

“Over there,” I whisper, pressing close to Greer.

My arm grazes her shoulder, but she doesn’t pull away like she normally would. If anything, she moves closer.

Another rustle of branches is followed by the slow drag of metal on stone.

“That’s not animals.” She reaches for her sword.

Hesitancy is stripped away this morning as she holds the blade out in front of her. Sharp, silvery eyes meet the distance. As a seer, Greer’s magic isn’t offensive, like mine, but she uses it like a weapon all the same.

Greer steps forward, nearly silent over the crushed leaves and twigs. Her eyes narrow, reading what’s ahead a different way than I am.

“There’s a group.”

I nod, reaching for my own sword. “I can’t tell how many without getting closer. Let’s leave our bags. Strip out of anything that might make a sound. We’ll circle the camp from the west, so we don’t cast any shadows, and see what we’re up against.”

I strip my bag from my shoulders, hanging it from a tree. When I hold a hand out for Greer’s, she pauses a moment.

“Sometimes I forget,” she says, shrugging her bag off.

“What do you forget?”