Page 9 of Dark Rebel’s Reckoning (The Children Of The Gods #93)

9

KYRA

K yra leaned on Jasmine's strength as her daughter led her down the aisle, past the handful of seats that had been reclined to make narrow beds. Some of the warriors were watching television, some were asleep on the reclined seats, and the other four rescued women were sleeping, cocooned in the same wonderful blankets as the one Kyra had left on her seat.

A few heads turned, followed by slight smiles and nods, which she took as encouragement.

At the back, Jasmine opened a small door that slid inward to reveal a compact lavatory that was nevertheless luxurious. A tiny shower stall was partitioned off by a frosted glass panel.

Jasmine stepped inside with Kyra, somehow fitting the two of them in the tiny space. "There's a new travel toothbrush in here." She pointed at a compartment side. "And this is the handle to switch from faucet to shower mode. The temperature knob is labeled." She demonstrated. "The tank isn't huge, so be mindful of the water usage. We want to conserve as much as we can, so at least all the rescued women can wash up if they want to. The rest of us made do with washing our hands. I'll give you some privacy, but I can wait outside if you need anything."

She wanted to be brave and tell Jasmine that she didn't need help and could return to her seat, but that would have been a lie, and Kyra had learned that pride was often detrimental to success.

"Thank you," she said. "I won't be long."

With a nod, Jasmine stepped back into the aisle and closed the door behind her.

Finally, some desperately needed privacy.

After taking care of the most pressing need first, Kyra brushed her teeth and then shrugged out of the enormous sweater, folding it carefully and putting it on top of the closed toilet lid.

Next, she peeled off the threadbare shift she'd been forced to wear.

It carried the stench of captivity, and as a wave of nausea rolled through her, she squeezed her eyes shut until it passed. The trash compartment was too small for the disgusting garment, but she stuffed it in there nonetheless. There was no way she was touching the thing ever again.

Standing completely naked, she glimpsed herself in the mirror over the sink. She looked thinner, pallid, but the bruises were gone and her eyes were bright. She was alive, she was on her way to freedom, and that was what mattered.

She still needed to let her friends know that she was alive, and after what she'd heard she no longer feared that these people could threaten the rebels. If anything, they could help, and once she was on a sure footing she would see what she could do to convince them to offer aid.

Stepping behind the partition, she flicked on the water and waited a few heartbeats until it turned warmer. Standing under the spray, she let the water cascade over her hair, shoulders, and back. Despite Jasmine's caution about being quick, she couldn't help but linger for a moment.

Scrubbing her scalp felt oddly cathartic, as if every clump of dried sweat or grime she sloughed off was one more layer of captivity washing down the drain. The fresh scent of the shampoo was clean and simple, but a luxury nonetheless.

She tried not to think about what she'd left behind and focused on all the incredible things she'd learned since being freed.

Gods, immortals, Dormants.

Her daughter.

Part of her was thrilled at the chance to reconnect, to compensate for time lost with her child, but another part of her grieved for Jasmine's childhood that she'd missed and could never recover.

After quickly scrubbing the grime from the rest of her body, she reluctantly twisted the knob, shutting off the water. Shivering in the cooler air, she grabbed the towel from a hook and dried off.

Hopefully, there were more clean towels for the other women.

She hung up the towel, and with a sigh, grabbed Max's sweater from where she'd folded it on the closed toilet lid. It was large, swallowing her frame, but it was clean enough—barely. It still hinted at that faint masculine scent she'd noticed earlier, layered with gunpowder and dust. But there was something comforting about wearing it, even if she barely knew the man.

Remembering his teasing about her being his soulmate, Kyra smiled and tugged the sweater on, letting it fall around mid-thigh.

She had no pants to wear yet, but at least the garment covered her decently. Well, as decent as having nothing underneath could feel.

She opened the door a crack. "Jasmine?"

"Right here," came the immediate reply. Jasmine's beautiful face appeared in the gap. "Feeling better?"

Kyra stepped into the aisle, hugging the sweater around her hips. "Much better. Do you happen to have a comb?"

Her wet hair hung in messy clumps around her shoulders, and if she didn't comb it out, it would be a nightmare to do so when it dried.

"I do." Jasmine reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of wet hair behind Kyra's ear. "I also have some makeup, but I don't think you use any."

"I don't," Kyra admitted. "I don't need it."

"No, you don't." Jasmine wrapped an arm around her middle to prop her up. "You are beautiful without any help from cosmetics."

"So are you." Kyra lifted on tiptoes and kissed her daughter's cheek for the first time she could remember doing so. "You are so tall in addition to being beautiful."

Jasmine chuckled. "I grew more than an inch during my transition. I had to replace half of my shoe collection so I wouldn't tower over everyone whenever I wanted to wear heels."