Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 1)

I slumped to my back and sawed my teeth.

Roark leaned around Michio and kissed my bottom lip. “Get cheesed off all ye want. This isn’t negotiable.”

“The sun will be up before three A.M.” Michio’s eyes didn’t waver from Roark’s. “You need to sleep while you can.”

I swiped a hand over my face, hating their rivalry. “Can we just—”

Could we what? Hold hands around the campfire and sing Kumbaya?

Two pairs of eyes watched me, waiting.

“This is going to sound girly—”

“Can I just point out that ye are a girl?” Roark said.

I narrowed my eyes. “You both have managed to weasel your way into my heart.” Which was somersaulting over the idea. “And that’s a complication by itself without the I’m-gonna-stab-you-when-she’s-not-looking glares defiling your pretty faces.”

Michio burst out laughing. “No one’s stabbing anyone.”

Roark stared at his lap. “We wen’ kill each other, love.”

I blew a wayward hair from my eye. Fine. If they weren’t concerned, neither was I.

Roark set a crumpled tin plate on my stomach heaping with shredded meat burnt on the ends. Funny how survival had wiped out my vegetarianism. I had no clue what we were eating, but between the three of us, the meat vanished within minutes. The last chunk lodged in my throat. I would not be counting the horses again.

Beneath a fur-lined blanket, I hunkered between Roark and Michio. Heat rolled off them and chased away my shivers. And I slept.

Sometime during the night, I woke bleary-eyed and chilled despite Michio’s warmth on my front. His body rose and fell through deep breaths of sleep. I uncurled from him, slipped on my coat, boots, and artillery.

Outside the tent, Roark bowed over a bent knee, forehead resting on clasped hands. I crouched beside him, taking in the curve of lashes feathered over his cheeks, the full lips moving in soundless reverence, the pearlescent rosary beads winding over scarred knuckles. “Keeping watch with your eyes shut? Some guardian you are.”

He leaned in and pressed his smile against mine. Then his eyes blinked open, roamed my face. “Why are ye up?”

Darkness closed around us. The sky was starless, but could very well be full of things lying in wait. “Where’s Jesse?”

He sighed, but his finger rose and pointed where the shadows slanted over the lava-formed bluff. “Go on. I’m watching.”

The frozen wool grass crunched under my boots, making a racket in the heavy silence. I passed one of Ivar’s sons and nodded. The fume of cigarette smoke signaled Tallis’ proximity.

Jesse’s huddled form took shape at the foot of the cliff. His arms wrapped around his knees. His bow lay at his feet.

I stopped a foot before him. “Don’t be a child. Sleep in the tent. If not mine, then one of the others.”

Cracking ice groaned across the barren terrain.

I swooped up his bow and walked back. Halfway there, he lifted the bow from my grip, but kept his stride in step with mine.

At the tent, I let my fingers rake through Roark’s hair and crawled under the flap. Jesse lingered at the entrance.

“Come on, Jesse. Michio can sleep between us. I won’t touch you.” I paused, smiled. “Of course, I can’t speak for him.”

Michio’s eyes cracked and his lips tugged up. Even tenuous, that smile curled my toes. I made a mental note to tease him more often.

I shed my coat and boots and Jesse did the same. Then I nestled into the warmth of Michio’s chest. A moment later, Jesse floated over us. He stretched behind me and his pelvis cupped my backside. My breath caught.

“Don’t you dare wiggle.” He rested his hand on my hip.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” But dream of it was exactly what I did.

In the light of daybreak, I opened my eyes to find Jesse watching me from inches away. Thoughts shifted in the depth of his gaze. Lost in his secrets.

I could tell by the height of the man at my back that Roark was curved around me.

“Did I wiggle?” I whispered.

The air between us thickened. He touched my cheek, his thumb padding my bottom lip. “You make things damn difficult, darlin’.” His husky Texan accent shot my heart to my throat.

I crooked up my mouth and took his thumb with it. “I try.”

He dropped his hand and raised his eyes to the ceiling where the sun pierced through the seams. “Wake your snoring priest. We need to keep moving.”

The spirally patterns of rhyolite formations guided us through the mountains. Our mounts kicked up the volcanic soil and nibbled at the sparse vegetation. The ever-present risk of following the pebbles down the steep unpredictable ledges kept us alert. Falling to our deaths seemed to be the only threat. Still, my pulse roared with the occasional clap of wings or the flash of a shape sprang by the shading slopes.

That night, we camped beside a geothermal spa. Everyone took turns bathing and guarding. Then we slept along the edge on the soft bed of moss. Jesse, Roark and Michio split the guard over me. When it was Jesse’s turn to sleep, he took Roark’s position at my back.