Page 134 of Crucible
We’re standing so close now that I have to tilt my head back to meet his panicked gaze. “What’s the matter?”
For a moment, Thorin doesn’t look as if he’ll answer. And then he says tightly, “One of the search teams is nearby. Four or five miles at most if the radio is picking up their signal. The clearer it gets, the closer they are, and they’re closing in fast.” The muscles in his jaw jump. “I have no way of knowing which direction they’re coming from. They could be anywhere.”
We could walk right into them on our way back to the cabin.
“Oh,” I say quietly despite my heart pounding in my chest now. Can Thorin hear it?
His grip on me tightens as if he can and knows what I’m thinking. “Let’s go, Aurelia.”
“So we’re going back to the cabin?” I ask lamely because, of course, we are.
I’m stalling.
I think.
Thorin gives me a sharp look before releasing my arm and taking my hand, “We’re goinghome, wolf.”
He doesn’t start walking or even force me to. For a few costly seconds, the two of us just stand there silently communicating with our eyes as the voices on the radio become more distinct.
This isn’t Thorin’s and my usual battle of wills. It’s a negotiation that ends with a promise. I’m the first to move,turning my hand in his to link our fingers. He squeezes mine in response.
“Let’s go home,” I finally say.
It takes us longer to get back to the cabin because Thorin has to cover our tracks as we go, and with his gaze snapping my way every few seconds to make sure I don’t run off screaming the moment his back is turned, it eats up even more time.
He doesn’t stop watching me closely until I finally pick up a fallen spruce bough halfway to the cabin. I feel his eyes on me as I help erase my footprints from the snow, but I don’t dare look his way under the guise of focusing on sweeping the needle-like leaves across the snow.
We’re less than a mile from the cabin when Thorin’s eyes leave me to search the trees for any sign of movement. His head has been on a constant swivel since leaving the practice range. I don’t have much time—thirty seconds at most—so I make every second count as I unwind Cassie’s scarf from around my neck.
Thorin is looking behind him now, in the direction we’re traveling, when I let my fingers unfurl. Cassie’s scarf slips from my hand, but before it can hit the ground, a wind picks up the lightweight material and carries it off.
Watching it disappear around a copse of spruces just as Thorin looks in that direction, I say a silent prayer that it makes its way back to her.
The cabin is unusually quiet without Khalil and Seth’s endless racket, and I find myself missing it when I step from the downstairs bathroom hours later. Freshly showered, the loft andKhalil’s sleeping bag beckon me, so I start up the basement stairs with exhaustion weighing down my bones as I climb.
The wide green and brown gingham twilly from my costume is the only hope I have of keeping my twists protected and curls pinned, so I’m tying that around my head when I reach the first floor and find Thorin crouched in front of the wood stove.
He’s shirtless and wearing flannel pajama pants that match the flannel shirt I’m wearing. The same one I woke up in after I was unconscious and at their mercy for days. The reminder doesn’t fill me with dread like it used to—not after witnessing the care they spent putting me back together. I don’t even feel it when Thorin glances over his shoulder and stands when he sees me.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he remarks.
“You’re not getting it back,” I say immediately. “It’s mine now.”
Thorin’s teeth flash when he smiles and laughs at me for laying claim to his shirt. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, wolf.”
Lifting the material to my face, I sniff the collar and frown at the scent of detergent and nothing else. “I may let you borrow it from time to time, though. It’s better when it smells like you.”
Thorin rolls his eyes playfully, but I suspect it’s to distract me from the fact that he’s actually blushing. “How generous of you. You’re too kind.” His gaze lands on the loft and lingers before returning to me. When his lips part, I know what he’s going to ask before he speaks.
The surprise comes when I answer the request before he can make it.
“Yes.”
I can see the tension leaving his shoulders even as the divot between his brows deepens. “You’re sure?” He glances at the loft again, comes to some conclusion, and sighs. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, Aurelia. I won’t force you.”
Moving away from the stairs, I feel as if I’m under a microscope as I walk over to stand in front of Thorin. “I want to.”
My assurance only makes him more wary and confused. “Why?”
