Hell On Wheels by Rhyll Biest

Author:Rhyll Biest [Biest, Rhyll]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises Pty Ltd Australia
Published: 2016-09-30T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The cramps in her legs woke Valeda.

She groaned. Just standing was going to kill her.

A glance at Adriel’s side of the tent confirmed he’d not yet returned. Good. She’d let him get far too close and distance was better, always safer. While she had every intention of honouring her agreement to stay by his side, she also needed to retain her head firmly on her shoulders and not make a goose of herself.

Like she almost had.

Lilith, at over four centuries old, and most of those centuries spent topside in Lore’s service, one would think her beyond the need for sex, that most primitive of itches, and the need for connection.

It was humbling to be reminded that she was not.

She rolled her stiff body out of bed, wincing as her bruised feet hit hard ground. Running a hand along the side of her straw pallet she felt for her roller derby equipment. Skates, knee pads, elbow pads. She stole a clean pair of Adriel’s socks, rolled them on and tied her skates. Wearing the same tunic from the day before, she skated outside. Clearly her standards of hygiene were already dropping. The thought should have appalled her but instead she smiled as she ran a hand over her bare neck. Adriel had left the collar off.

He trusted her.

And wanted her.

How did she feel about that? Her body’s answer was clear but in any conflict she’d always ceded to mind over heart and body. And while Adriel wanted her to trust him in return, enough to allow him to heal her at the deepest level, she couldn’t do it. Mistrust was woven through her very fibre, stitched into every seam of her nature. To cast it aside courted disaster on the most fundamental level. There needed to be some buffer between them, otherwise he could wrest control from her.

He could end up wanting everything, like her brother.

Acid bit into her frontal lobe and Lore’s whispered warning—never think of your brother—rang in her ears. Never. A red tide of pain swelled in her chest and she gasped, backed off, emptied her mind by counting the number of dead languages she spoke.

After identifying all one hundred and twenty-four, the sensation of her chest being cracked open subsided and her blood cooled enough for her thoughts to turn to her next course of action.

Walls were closing in around her and she needed to find a way out, a way that would harm neither her nor Adriel.

She shifted, her body restless. There was no reason to remain cooped up inside the tent while she pondered her next move. Physical activity could only improve her brain function.

No-one stopped her as she made her way to the track, Moloss suspiciously absent. Another sign of Adriel’s new trust in her. Shame rose like bile in her throat. He was able to trust her but she was incapable of trusting him, too terrified his love would morph into the same invisible worm that ate at her brother.

A hard fist

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