Page 120 of Dustwalker

She stretched, her body pressing along his thigh, and released a long slow breath. When she turned her head toward him, she stared up at him with pupils dilated into deep black pools. “Is it time to go?”

“After you have something to eat and drink.”

“’Kay.”

As she sat up with a grunt, Ronin slipped off the bed, moving to the stand and lighting the lantern. Raising a hand to shield her eyes from the glare, Lara swung her legs over the edge and yawned into the crook of her elbow before standing up. “How long was I asleep?”

“Five hours and twelve minutes. The sun should be up by now.”

“How long did the storm last?” She found her canteen and took a long drink.

“We last heard it a little more than three hours ago,” Newton replied from his seat on the steps. “It was one of the more tenacious storms in recent memory.”

Ronin checked the straps and ties on their bags. He’d wanted to be days away from Cheyenne before making such a long stop, but the Dust didn’t care about anyone’s plans. He and Lara had many kilometers to make up.

Cheyenne was still far too close for his liking.

Newton gestured to the closed door near Lara. “The toilet is through there. I’ve kept it in working condition, for lack of anything better to do.”

Lara gaped at him. “Seriously? I’ve been holding it this whole time only for you to tell me you have a toiletnow?”

“My apologies. Given the nature of our earlier conversations, I could not identify a prudent opportunity to inform you.”

She rushed toward the back room, saying over her shoulder, “Any time is a good time to tell someone there’s a toilet.”

The door closed behind her.

Newton chuckled. “I will have to keep that in mind for future encounters. She is uniquely spirited, Ronin.”

You should see her dance.

Ronin stopped himself from saying it aloud. Lara’s dancing, he decided, was for him. “Learned more about being alive in four weeks with her than I have since you reactivated me.”

“Would that couplings such as yours were the rule rather than the exception.”

Ronin shrugged. He spread a cloth on the floor and laid his rifle atop it, disassembling it rapidly. “Doesn’t make much difference what anyone else says or does. The world’s approval doesn’t matter to us.”

“You would face deactivation for her, if it came down to it?” There was a strange hesitance in Newton’s voice.

“Yes. I’ve faced it over things far less important to me than she is.”

I love her.

He hadn’t realized how consuming such an emotion could be, or how profound it would be to fall into it.

Ronin’s lips curled into a smile as he inspected the rifle’s components. They’d escaped the storm before much dust had built up inside the weapon, but he took the time to clean its parts while Lara was occupied.

When the door opened and she emerged, her face had been scrubbed clean, her cheeks were pink, and she’d wrapped her scarf over her hair.

“You havenoidea how much better I feel, now.” She moved to her pack, stuffed her canteen inside, closed it, and swung it on. “I’ll eat on the way.”

“All right.” Ronin quickly reassembled the rifle then rose to pull on the other bags before slinging the gun over his shoulder.

Lara approached Newton. “Thank you. For letting us stay.”

Newton stood up, his lip plates lifting into a smile. “It is the least I could do. Especially considering you are the ones with the firearms.”

She returned his smile, though her expression slipped a moment later. “I’m…sorry. For what I said. I know there isn’t?—”