Reckless (The Powerless Trilogy Book 2)

“Is this really necessary?”

I raise a brow at the coarse ropes currently constricting my wrists, rubbing them raw. By way of response, the Enforcer smiles slightly in the shadows before tugging the ties impossibly tighter. I scoff, gesturing with bound hands to the barrenness surrounding us. “Now you decide to tie me up? In the desert with all your Imperials breathing down my neck?”

But the prince has already lost interest in me, turning to take the reins of one of the many restless horses. “All of this for an Ordinary?” I raise my voice so the blanket of sand can’t smother it. “Who would have thought I’d have you so scared?” I open my mouth again, ready to spit something else that will most definitely get his attention when a shove at my back has me stumbling, biting the tongue that was about to get me into trouble.

“Bitch.”

It’s a hiss in my ear, a shiver down my spine. The Imperial has my hair twisted in his fist before I’ve even found my footing, yanking me into his chest with a growl. I gasp at the pain, wince at the feel of his lips against my ear. “Filthy Ordinary. I should slit your throat right here….”

“You know, I haven’t even bothered to learn your name, Soldier. That is how little I value your life.”

The Enforcer’s drawl has the Imperial stiffening behind me, straitening slightly when the prince takes his time strolling toward us. I stare at the broad chest looming before me, watching it rise rapidly despite the deceptively calm words falling from his lips. “So imagine,” he says casually, “what I would be more than happy to do to you if you ever lay another finger on her.”

It’s a struggle to keep from stumbling into the Enforcer with how forcefully the Imperial shoves me away from him. Then he’s muttering a poor excuse for an apology, nodding to orders veiled as a threat. As soon as I find my footing, I’m staggering back from the prince and the callous scrutiny coating his face.

That wasn’t care or concern or anything close to kindness. No, it was possession. The threat was territorial. I am his prey, his prize, his prisoner. His and his alone.

I hate it. Hate that I belong to him.

“Come here.”

I blink at the blunt order, the blatant disregard for the fact that I was ever anything more than his captive to control. His command has the opposite effect, forcing my feet farther from him. He responds with a tilt of his head, eyes roaming over what must be the remaining disgust written across my face. “We’re leaving,” he says slowly, taking an equally slow step toward me. “If you’d prefer to walk across the desert, be my guest. Otherwise, I’m going to need you to get on a damn horse.”

My eyes flick to the snorting creatures scattering the sand. I swallow. “I’m good, thanks.”

Another step. “Is that so?”

I’m shifting on my feet now. “I’d rather walk.”

“The Silver Savior?” He’s smiling. “Scared of horses?”

Light laughter meets my ears, mocking me. I ignore the surrounding snickers and instead settle my gaze on the silently amused bastard before me. “Well, I was never privileged enough to ride one growing up, was I? So I think I’m allowed to find them… unsettling.”

“We all have our fears, Gray,” he murmurs, stepping closer for only me to hear. “Though I was beginning to believe you didn’t have any. Least of all horses.”

“I’m not afraid,” I say between the teeth I’m flashing at him. “Just in need of some exercise.”

I can barely make out the twitch of his lips in the darkness before he tethers my bound wrist to his horse with a long lead. “Try to keep up, Gray. I don’t want to have to drag you across the desert.”

I roll my eyes at his back but quickly avert them from the muscles straining against his shirt as he pulls himself up onto the saddle. At the sight, my mind wanders to the rooftop before I’m shaking my head and shoving the thought back down.

It’s not long until I’m stumbling beside him, trying to put as much distance between myself and the beast looming beside me. The Imperials scattered around us are cast in shadow, draped in the darkness we waited to fall before setting foot in the desert. Spending my afternoon with the prince and his entourage was equally as miserable as the blanket of heat smothering us. That is, until the sun finally grew tired of its torture and sank into its bed of clouds, allowing the moon to guide us as we began our trek across the desert.

Time ticks by, indicated only by the ever-growing pain pulsing from my wound. Every step burns, scorching like the sun we managed to evade for a few hours. It’s not long before a limp manages to slip into my stride, despite my best efforts to smother it.

But when he clears his throat beside me, I force myself to straighten, biting my tongue against the pain. “You’re slowing down, Gray.” His voice is quiet, gruff from hours of disuse.

“Would you like me to run, Your Highness?” I manage, keeping my eyes on the shifting sand beneath my feet.

“I’d like to see you try. It would be entertaining, to say the least.”

I throw him a glance. “I live to amuse, Your Highness.”

A cough catches in his throat, the closest to a laugh he’ll allow himself. “Stop,” he commands, pulling his horse to a halt. I stagger beside him, almost tempted to lean against the beast. The parade of Imperials pull on their reins, stopping to circle us.

I watch the prince swing gracefully from his saddle before closing the distance between us. Swallowing, I trace the muscle that ticks in his jaw, the path his gaze trails down my body. And then he’s crouching before me once again, looking up with hands braced on either side of my injured thigh.

I ignore the prickle of a dozen prying eyes roaming over the scene we’ve created, unable to find a single reason to care. His eyes are on mine, and for a single, bittersweet second, it’s Kai I’m looking at—not the monster meant to hunt me down.

Then his brow is furrowed, his mind captured by the task at hand. With swift fingers, he’s tracing the jagged cut, threading skin and tissue together. I sigh, relief flooding me with every pass of his fingertips. He looks up at me then, eyes wandering over my face in a way that makes me feel stripped bare before him.

“Better?” His voice is barely more than a murmur.

“Better,” I breathe. Tearing my eyes from his, I look up to scan the Imperials, silently wondering which one of them is the Healer he’s drawing power from. “You couldn’t have done that twelve hours ago?”

The corner of his lips twitch. “Twelve hours ago we were in a bustling city I knew you’d be able to easily disappear into. That is, if you managed to get away from me.” He almost shrugs. “Call it a precaution.”

I mimic his shrug with one of my own. “You seem to be taking a lot of precautions for a mere Ordinary.”

“I think we both know that nothing about you is mere.”

We watch each other for a long moment, wary in the way that we know we are supposed to be. Everything about him is sharp and cold and piercing me with that glasslike gaze. Even crouched beneath me, he’s every bit the prince and creation of the king. A puppet of the crown disguised with a fancy title.

I wonder how often the Enforcer kneels before anything. Anyone.

“You’re afraid of me.”

He meets my statement with a stare, steady but drawn out like a sigh. “I’d be a fool not to fear something so fierce.”

I swallow. “And are you not? A fool, that is?”

He stands then, holding my gaze until he’s the one looking down on me. “Not anymore.”

I open my mouth, fumbling for words he doesn’t care to hear. With a turn and a nod to his men, the parade lurches to life once again, dragging me along with it. I watch as he mounts his horse, glimpsing the glimmer of hope on his hip.

My heart skips a beat, tripping over itself at the sight of a dagger decorating his side, though the lack of swirling steel on its hilt tells me it is not mine. I force my thoughts to be rational, force myself to think like the thief I had to become. Having maimed any chance for a morsel of trust, every move I make is annoyingly under suspicion. It’s a struggle not to mourn how easy getting close to him used to be, and how desperately I crave something not completely complicated.

I lurch forward with the huffing horse beside me, mind reeling and feet faltering.

Plagues, I need a plan.

The parade continues its melancholy march in the pale moonlight—little more than silver shadows painting the sand. “Plan” is a generous word for the idea that formulates, but desperation has me throwing caution to the wind. With a deep breath, I swallow my pride before forcing my feet to drag dramatically.

The rope tethering me to the beast grows taught, my heels grinding into the sand. At first, the Enforcer doesn’t deign to acknowledge my obvious resistance, and the horse he’s atop certainly doesn’t either. But after several drawn-out sighs and stubborn steps—

“What now, Gray?” He sounds utterly underwhelmed by my display.

“I’m tired.”

“Is that so?”

I scowl up at his shadowy shoulders. “It is.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” I pant. “That’s all you have to say? Hmm?”

“Fine.” I can practically feel him smiling atop his high horse. “Hmm, it’s a shame you’re scared of horses.”

“I am not—” I sigh, taking a deep breath to hide my smile. This is exactly what I wanted. “I’ll get over it. I’m too tired to care at the moment.”

Now he offers a glance over his shoulder. “Let’s see it, then. Get on.”

I swallow, a reaction that I wish was dramatized. He extends a hand to help me up, his mouth kicking up at the corner. “Absolutely not.” I try to take a step back, straining against the rope. “I’m going to need… assistance.”

Now he really does smile. “You mean, you need help?”

“I am asking nothing of the sort.”

He shakes his head at me. “Still too stubborn to admit you’re asking for help, let alone that you need it.” I roll my eyes, looking anywhere but into his. “Go on, Gray. I want to hear you say it.”

I shake my head, tilting it toward the stars staring down on us. “You’re insufferable.”

“That’s not quite what I’m waiting to hear.”

A noise of disgust slips between my lips, a groan sounding of regret. “Fine. I need… your help.” I bite out the words, swallowing the bitter taste they leave behind.

He smiles at me then, startling in a way it shouldn’t be—not anymore. In response, he easily slips from his saddle to stand before me. My heart hammers in my chest, eyes flicking to the weapon at his side. I hold out my bound hands expectantly, smiling sweetly at him.

He watches me, his piercing eyes gliding over my face. “One wrong move, Gray,” he murmurs, “and I’ll bind you to the back of this horse. Understood?”

“Understood, Prince.”

He meets my mocking with the hint of a grin. And then he’s cutting me free with the knife I so desperately want in my palm. I don’t dare track his movements as he slides the small dagger back onto his hip, instead keeping my eyes locked on his. My wrists are red and raw, sore from hours of strain. I take my time massaging them, running fingers over the growing welts there until I’m sure his thoughts are far from the knife at his side.

Time for a distraction.

Lifting my eyes to his, I take one last deep breath in preparation for the lack of plan I’ve conjured. “All right,” I sigh. “Get me up there.”

His smile is far too teasing for my liking. “All right, then.” He steps behind me. His hands are hard on my hips before I can suck in another breath, sure and strong and sickeningly familiar. And then he’s lifting me up, up, up—

“Plagues!” I squeal, thrashing in his hold like I intended to. Every limb is flailing, desperate to flee from his grip out of what I hope looks like fear. My back is pressed against his chest while feet fly in front of me and hands reach behind to grasp at anything—his face, his arms, his hip as I slip the dagger from its sheath.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He lowers me back onto solid ground, dodging an elbow I throw back in his direction. As soon as my boots hit the sand, I turn and stumble against him, reaching the hand holding his knife behind my back. Unable to risk tucking the weapon into the band of my pants where he will likely feel it, I flip the blade so its handle faces downward and silently say a prayer to Plague-knows-who. Only then do I let the knife drop toward the mouth of my boot.

I bite my tongue against the sting of pain, feeling blood begin to prickle my skin where the blade nicked my ankle. But then I’m biting my tongue against a smile.

I did it. It worked. Maybe I should pray more.

“I—I wasn’t ready!” I pant, taking a step away before smoothing out my rumpled shirt.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he mocks, exasperated, “I just assumed that ‘get me up there’ implied you were ready to get up there.”

I glance up at the men around us, hidden in shadows. The blanket of darkness is the only reason I was able to get away with the sloppy stunt I just pulled without anyone seeing. “I’m just… nervous, okay? Give me a second.”

“Take your time,” he grinds out between clenched teeth, not meaning a single word.

I look away from the agitation so blatantly displayed across his face. Taking a deep breath, I play the part of the anxious captive, complete with fidgeting fingers and shifting feet.

“All right,” I finally say.

“All right, what?” he asks slowly. “I want to hear you say it, so I don’t get ambushed again.”

I offer him a dull look. “All right, I’m ready.”

“You sure about that? Should I expect a black eye or—”

“Just get me on the damn horse, Azer.”

He takes a slow step behind me then, holding my gaze while sliding rough palms onto my hips. I swallow at the sheer intimacy of a moment that is intended to be nothing of the sort.

He’s lifting me onto the horse that’s carrying me to my doom, for Plague’s sake.

And yet, my cheeks are heating in the middle of a sunless desert. And I hate it—hate him. Right?

He pulls me close, holds me like a breath, knowing it’s only a matter of time before he needs to let me go.

And then he’s lifting me, guiding my foot into a stirrup. I swing my other leg over the beast, shaky and slow. I’m clutching the saddle, every muscle taught and ready to throw myself off if need be. But right as I’m considering doing just that, he’s suddenly behind me, solid and pressed against my spine.

“I think,” I say quietly, “I’d be more comfortable in the back.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he murmurs, so close to my ear, I suppress a shiver. “But I want you where I can see you.”

He reaches around me then, forearms framing my waist as he grips the reins. I roll my eyes at where his hands rest on my thighs. “Is this really necessary?”

“What, you know how to steer a horse?”

I lean slightly against his chest. “I’m a fast learner.”

He huffs, stirring my hair. “Yes, a fast learner that would head straight back to Dor.”

“You think so little of me, Highness.”

A laugh. “No, I think so often of you. Which is why I know exactly what you would do.”

I swallow, slouching as I let the silence settle over us. Minutes tick by, tempting me to talk, if only out of boredom.

“What will he do to me?”

He’s tucked so closely behind that I can feel his body tense when the question slips from my mouth. I suddenly have the prince shifting uncomfortably, sighing onto the back on my neck. I’ve tried not to think of Kitt, of how I may have helped mold him into a replica of the king I drove a sword through.

“I…,” Kai starts, ducking his head, “I’m not sure.”

“What is he like?” I say softly. “My king?”

“He’s like you left him.” His voice is dull. “A shell of a man, stepping into the shoes of a king.”

I sigh, looking up at the stars above. “Then I’m as good as dead.”