Micah helped me sit down on the bench. “Let me see,” he said, reaching for my shoulder.

“It’s nothing.” I raised my arm to push his hand away, but flinched from the pain radiating from the wound when I moved. I had almost fainted after the battle was over. Almost. I had felt the strength seeping out of me, and hit my knees hard on the concrete ground, making it all hurt more.

As he knelt on the ground in front of me, Micah tsked. “Darling, you’re not a very good liar.”

I groaned and let him pull the ripped piece of my armor aside to look at the wound. I hissed, and cursed, and hissed some more.

“Here.” He offered me his left arm. “You can hold on, squeeze, dig your nails in. Do whatever, as long as you let me clean this up.”

I waved him off. “I can take it.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Okay.” He ripped the cloth around the wound some more, and then grabbed supplies from my backpack—water, antiseptic, gauze, and tape. “I need to clean it first to see how bad it is.” He uncapped the water bottle. “This is going to hurt.”

I looked away, trying to focus on anything but the wound on my shoulder, or the fact that his face was mere inches from mine. “I’m fine. Do it.”

Micah poured some water over the wound, and I suppressed a cry as the burning pain increased tenfold. Mindlessly, I reached for his arm and squeezed it.

I pretended not to see the corners of his lips tugging up.

“It’s not too bad.” His voice dripped with relief. “I thought the demon had gone deeper. And when I saw the blood on your chest …” He shook his head.

“It was just a little blood from my shoulder,” I said.

He sighed. “It’s just an ugly scratch. You’ll be fine if we clean it every few hours.” He dropped the water bottle and grabbed the antiseptic. “This is going to hurt too. Ready?”

I didn’t feel ready, but I nodded. Better get this over with. Not caring about wasting it, Micah poured the antiseptic over the scratch.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, losing my voice to the burning pain. I squeezed his arm, digging my nails on his tee.

“Sorry, darling, but it’ll get infected if we don’t clean it well.” He poured some more of the antiseptic, and I cursed everyone I knew and didn’t know while holding on to his arm for dear life.

When the pain subsided a little, Micah open up the gauze and started taping the squares on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s okay. The pain is manageable now.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” He stopped working on my wound and looked at me. “I came on this mission to make sure you didn’t get hurt. And here you are. Hurt.”

I watched him. The heavy set of his brows, the sharp lines of his jaw and chin and cheekbones, the fullness of his lips, the perfect line of his nose, and his black eyes—his eyes that revealed too much. Dread, worry, relief, caring.

A sharp pang cut through my heart. “It wasn’t your fault. And, regardless of any injuries, I’m …” I paused and took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Surprise registered in his eyes, but only for a second before being replaced by hunger, by wanting. The hand working on the scratch slid to my neck and cupped my face as he stretched his frame, leaning over me. I didn’t think. I just met him halfway. His lips touched mine and I let out a sigh. My lips parted, molding to his and allowing him free pass. His tongue teased mine as if he was afraid that if he pushed too far, I would pull away.

And I should. Pull away. Right now.

This instant.

But I couldn’t. I was too drunk on him to do anything else other than take more. Ask for more.

I spread my legs open and Micah scooted between them, coming closer. He wound one of his arms around my waist and pressed on my back, bringing my chest to his. He shifted his weight, aligning his hips with mine, and I could feel how much he wanted me. Letting my hormones and feelings speak louder, I just acted. I held on to his shoulders and ground my hips against his. He groaned and nipped at my lower lip. I moved against him again and this time he cursed under his breath. Slowly, his lips slid down my neck, leaving a searing mark whenever they touched me. He ran his hand up my arm and over my shoulder.

I gasped as a shock of pain spread from my shoulder, down my arm, to my fingertips.

Micah pulled away immediately. “Fuck, I forgot about your scratch.” He rested his hands over my knees. “Did I hurt you?”

I just stared at him, too shocked to reply. How did I let this happen? One second we were being attacked, the next we were kissing? When and why did I let my guard down? It didn’t make any sense. I knew better than this.

“No, um, I just felt it when you touched it.” I reached for my backpack on the ground.

“I’m sorry, darling. I—”

“It’s okay.” I stood, causing him to take his hands from me and scoot back. “I’m fine.” I stepped around him and put some distance between us. “We should …” I looked down at the gauze on my shoulder. He hadn’t finished closing the scratch. “We should get going.”

Slowly, Micah stood and a deep knot appeared between his brows. “Why are you doing this?”

I pulled at the ripped fabric around the scratch, but no matter what, my armor was ruined. “Doing what?”

“Pretending nothing happened.”

“But nothing happened.”

He crossed his arms and stared at me. “And now you’re acting like a teenager.”

“What?” I stared at him, appalled. “I am not!” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at me. “We don’t have time to argue, okay? Let’s just get going.” I turned my back to him, intent on marching away from the park, but I remembered I didn’t know the direction we should go. “Please, can you tell me which way we’re going?”

He sighed and soon walked past me. “This way,” he said, taking the lead. I let him walk a few steps in front of me. It was easier than standing side by side with him where it felt too awkward not to talk. But it seemed he didn’t want not to talk. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Rage, sadness, disappointment, frustration. All of those feelings mixed and made for a heavy ball lodged in my chest. I could continue pretending nothing happened and act like a child, or I could be honest and hope he understood and left me alone after that.

I sighed. “Why do you care if I’m avoiding you? You’re the one who always leaves me every time we kissed. You’re only upset because this time I was the one who put some distance between us.”

“That’s—” He shut his mouth, as if considering, as if remembering. He knew I was right. “Believe me, darling, I never wanted to leave you.”

I scoffed. “Great way of showing it.”

Micah halted and stepped in my way. I almost bumped into him.

He towered over me, his stare intense, decisive. “I have never been more honest in my entire long life. I never wanted to leave you. Still don’t.”

I gulped. “Then why did you leave?”

He ran a hand through his hair and stepped back. “Because of matters out of my control.”

“You do realize that’s not a great answer.”

“It’s what I can tell you right now.”

Right now? So, he would someday tell me why he always left? When would that be? When I died during the Soul Oath?

“What’s your excuse?” he snapped.

“I … I just don’t understand you. We’ve been on this push and pull for quite some time now, and I have the feeling you really don’t want to be near me. But I keep asking myself, why do you always kiss me? It doesn’t make any sense. You confuse me. You make me confused. I never know what to expect from you. And then you up and leave and—”

“For greater reasons I can’t tell you about, but I promise you, it was for a good reason.”

Why couldn’t he tell me? All I could think about was that the gods and goddesses had a hidden agenda, something they weren’t telling the rest of us. I felt even more useless than before, if that were possible.

“Even so, it’s ridiculous to have hope.” Because I would die. Tomorrow or in a week, I would die. There was no point in trying to find out if he really liked me or not.

“Hope of what?”

I shook my head. “Okay, that’s enough. We’re wasting time talking about something that will never happen.” Looking ahead into the darkness of our path, I walked around him. “Let’s keep moving.”