Page 77 of Hurt

“It’s true,” he persisted.

Not only was Elijah an excellent fighter, but he was calm and collected. He could take a joke, and he could also be incredibly supportive. He stayed with Noah until he sobered up the other night, and he didn’t tell his uncle.

“How are things…with the…you know.” Noah waved his hand around to indicate the issue with the Vega Cabal.

Elijah sighed and seemed to deflate. “We’re just taking potshots at each other right now. Neither side has made a big move. We thought we might have done it today, but…it was a trap.”

He looked tired. Really tired. Noah grabbed his head and gently laid it on his shoulder.

“You let me lean on you the other night, so lean on me now.”

Elijah seemed stiff, but he didn’t move. After a minute, he told Noah about what had happened. He could tell that it was the abridged version—Elijah was leaving out a lot of details. Which annoyed Noah, but then he started talking about stuff that wasn’t the war. He told him stories of he and Jamie growing up as orphans on the Weaver estate and that Jamie insisted on sleeping with him until he was ten.

Noah would absolutely be teasing him in the near future.

He realized that Elijah had lived a similar life to him. Just a kid who wanted friendship and love, but all he got was adults holding him at arm’s length. He talked about his loyalty to the Weavers, something Noah couldn’t understand. He didn’t feel it with the Mesas. Instead of loyalty, he felt bitterness and resentment for the shackles his name had put him in.

“We have a lot in common,” Noah mused when Elijah stopped talking.

There was no response, and he realized Elijah had fallen asleep. Eyes closed and breathing softly, Noah smiled and brushed some of his dirty hair out of his eyes. His fingers lingered over the softness on Elijah’s cheeks.

Who knew an assassin would have such a soft face?

15

I NEVER LEARN, I JUST MAKE IT WORSE

Willow smiled brightly. Clattering down the metal staircase, she got about halfway down before leaping the rest of the way. Roland grunted as he caught the flying girl in his arms. Laughing wildly, Willow wrapped her arms and legs around Roland. Pressing her smile into his neck, she inhaled the scent she had come to associate with happiness and felt the strength of Roland’s arms.

“You should warn me next time,” Roland lectured sternly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she responded cheekily.

Laying a loud kiss on Roland’s sculpted cheek, she reveled in the way the cheek turned bright pink under her attention.

“I haven’t seen you in a week,” Willow pouted.

There was a rumbling sigh from Roland. She could feel the drag of his shoulders. The man’s normally granite-like face looked tired. Wriggling, Willow tried to get down, but she found Roland’s strong arms holding her in place. Two large hands were supporting her on the backs of her thighs, and she absolutely did not imagine that the fingers were squeezing.

“Roland! You can put me down now.”

“No.”

There was no room for argument as Roland carried Willow up the stairs back to her apartment. In her excitement, Willow had run out of the house in a crop top and shorts, and it would seem Roland did not want to go into the bar like that.

With arms full of Willow, he managed to open the door. Only then did he allow Willow to slide out of his arms. Her bare feet kissed the floor, and she shook her head at the taller man.

“You’re ridiculous,” Willow said. “Go ahead and have a seat.”

Roland looked at the beanbag dubiously. It was the only thing in the room to sit on.

“It’s pretty comfortable,” she explained as she flopped onto the purple beanbag. Legs out, she gestured for Roland to squeeze in next to her. Amber eyes scanned the expanse of skin showing—flat stomach peeking out from under the rough hem of her ratty crop top and slender legs that were not quite long enough to be the stuff of legend but were plenty alluring.

Roland sank to his knees and reverently ran a hand from Willow’s foot, up past her bony ankle, to the slope of her calf. Thumb pressing in, he let the callouses on his hand scrape against the smooth skin. Thick rings clinked as they ascended the leg.

“What are you doing?” Willow asked with a shiver.

Roland glanced up at her but didn’t say anything. Instead, he returned his attention back to the limb he was mapping with a palm. Blunt fingernails tickled the flesh as he slowly inched up to Willow’s knee.