Soft sunlight filtered in through the trees that surrounded their camp, lighting Prim’s eyelids a gentle red. She turned away from it, toward the interior, toward Con, but found the clearing empty. She shot up, twisting her head this way and that, looking for any sign of him. Her chest tightened as she realized he was certainly not here.

But she was being silly. He was likely hunting their breakfast nearby. Even if he wasn’t, it’s not like he could have realized what she was doing. She was sure she’d be dead if he had.

And she was starting to win him over. He seemed to be friendlier when she flirted, though he hadn’t been too keen on holding her when she pretended to slip on the rocks. Perhaps she wasn’t his type. Perhaps he only desired lovers with brunette hair, or flat stomachs, or wings, or dicks. That made it even better, she supposed, if she could flirt to make him like and trust her more, yet not want to sample her.

Con didn’t blame her for his brother’s death. That was something, despite his previous claim that she should be sorry. There was more to it, but she wasn’t going to push. She didn’t want to know.

She hauled herself up, and that’s when she felt the wetness between her thighs.

Shit. She hadn’t even thought about the timing of her cycle in the chaos of being abducted. And here she was in the middle of the forest with nothing but the clothes on her back.

She had just decided to head toward a stream to at least wash the blood from her one pair of pants when Con ducked through the tangle of trees.

He still wore that fabric wrapped around his head, but his torso was bare. Prim forgot about her monthlies as relief flooded through her at the sight of him, then something warmer followed as she took in his broad chest and arms thick with muscles, each punctuated by scars of different lengths and depths. The warmth winked out when she realized she very nearly added another scar, or worse, right over his heart.

Too busy admiring his physique, Prim hadn’t noticed Con carried a bag until he dropped it on the ground. “I didn’t leave you until sunrise. The wolves were long gone.”

She merely nodded, flustered, realizing she ought to be angry with him for leaving her alone at all after declaring he’d keep her safe. But she didn’t fuss at him. Instead she watched him crouch in front of the bag, pulling it open and reaching a hand in to rummage around.

He looked up at her, not bothering to try to conceal those brown human eyes, his hand stilling. “Pants or skirts?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Con pulled out a dress, followed by pants and a shirt. They were all simple, yet looked rather comfortable. “I got you both. I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer.”

Prim reached for the pants and shirt. “I’d like to bathe first.”

“Of course.” Con continued rummaging around and pulled out a bar of soap and a bundle of menstrual fabric, handing it to her. How had he known her cycle had started? “One more thing.” Con pulled out a small box and handed it to her.

Prim took it hesitantly, eyeing Con, though he had immediately shifted his focus to putting the dress back into the bag and rummaging around in it some more. She opened the box to find it filled with chocolates. When she looked back up at him, he had extracted out a new shirt from the bag, a billowy light one for himself, so different from the black leather he usually wore and pulled it over his head, concealing the hardened body beneath.

Con met her gaze and Prim thanked him before heading toward a nearby creek. He didn’t follow.

She laid her new clothes out on the bank and peeled off her soiled ones before climbing into the slow current of the creek, clutching them in her hands. The water only came to her mid thighs, and she bent over to submerge the pants and shirt she’d been wearing, scrubbing them clean with the soap Con had given her before tossing them onto the bank, careful not to let them land on her fresh set. She lowered into the water, sudsing herself and letting the current wash away the dirt, grime, and blood she’d accumulated the past few days.

Prim carefully unbraided her hair, trying her best to pull out the many small twigs that had become entangled in it. She used the same soap to lather the long strands and her scalp. When she was through, it remained a knotted mess, some twigs still captured within it. At least it was clean.

She used her old shirt to wipe away the bigger drops of water that clinged to her skin, though it was too wet itself to absorb them completely. After dressing in the new clothes Con had brought her, tucking one of the pieces of fabric he’d given her between her thighs, she returned to the clearing to find he’d changed his leather pants to some cotton ones, though his black boots and mask remained.

“Did you get all this from Sartu?” Prim asked as she plunged her fingers into her mass of hair, trying and failing to detangle it.

“No. We won't hit Sartu until this evening. There’s a smaller village nearby. Just a tavern and a shop.” Con watched as she struggled with her hair. He pulled the bag onto his lap, digging through it again until he extracted a hairbrush. “Sit, Princess.”

She looked from his face to the brush in his hand and obeyed. Con took position behind her, gently gathering her hair behind her back. His long fingers brushed her bare neck as he did so, and Prim couldn’t help but acknowledge the tension the touch ignited in her core. Not fear, not disgust, but comfort. Anticipation.

Con gently brushed out the knots of her hair, starting at the ends and working his way up. He held the top of any particularly nasty sections, easing the stress and pull on her scalp as he worked them out. Once her hair laid in an uninterrupted cascade over her back and shoulders, he began braiding.

Prim was attuned to each stroke of his deft fingers as he separated strands along her scalp and weaved them around her crown. Those strokes sent tingles down her neck, melting her into a state of relaxation so deep she closed her eyes, focused solely on the feel of his gentle tugging and the cool blast of air that hit her nape with his every exhalation as he finished plaiting the top of her head and began braiding down what remained of her long ash-blond mane. When he reached the end, Prim heard him rummaging in the bag before he twisted the braid into a tight knot and secured it to the base of her scalp with pins.

Con removed his hands, and Prim’s eyes flew open, the trance ended. She lifted her own hands to feel what he had done. Her hair was perfectly, tightly braided and coiled so close to her head that no one would know that it would fall to her waist if unbound, a sure sign of her status. She rose from her sitting position. As she did, Con did, too.

She turned around and found he was already looking at her. “Do you have sisters?”

“No.” He stood casually, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, making no move to destroy the evidence of their fire and Prim’s bed as he had the other mornings.

“Daughters?” Prim couldn’t tell how old Con was, though she was sure he was old enough to have fathered children.

“None that I know of.” The fabric over his mouth twitched.

“Who’s the woman in your life?” There had to be one. One that he loved very much. One that he cared for intently enough to know that women like chocolate when on their monthlies, that you must brush knots starting at the bottom, and that you must hold the hair away from the scalp to avoid discomfort. His fingers flowed smoothly over her scalp and between her strands in the way only fingers that had braided hair hundreds of times could.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Con kept her gaze for a moment before walking to her twig-bed and dismantling it with the toe of his boot. After several passes, the twigs were scattered haphazardly across the forest floor.

She was losing him. Desperate to earn his trust so she could learn who hired him, Prim approached Con. She raised her hand to play absent-mindedly with the collar of her shirt in an attempt to bring his eyes to her chest, reminding him she was a woman. “If you don’t have one, maybe I could--”

Prim’s words were cut off when Con struck his hand out to grasp her wrist, pulling it away from her collar. She sucked in a breath but didn’t resist as he guided her hand up towards his neck.

He was going to accept her offer. He was going to let her remove his mask. She curved her lips into that coy, inviting smile she’d used to win the hearts--or at least mouths--of many crushes over the years.

But he continued pulling her wrist up and around his shoulder until he thrust her hand onto the back of his head. Where she felt, under the fabric that obscured everything above the neck but his eyes, a knot of tightly coiled hair.

“I know how to care for hair because I have hair, Princess.”

That didn’t explain his understanding of women’s needs and wants during their cycle. But Prim understood his reluctance to share anything about the people he loved. She could easily have them all killed after she escaped. It was safe for him to share information about his brother; he was already dead. But the woman he’d do something so ridiculous as attempt to kidnap a crown princess to support? Of course he wouldn’t risk putting her in danger by admitting she existed to Prim.

He wouldn’t trust her with that information, but he was going to have to trust her with something before they reached Sartu. “Those new clothes won’t do much to soften your image with your face covered like you’re some kind of criminal.”

Con’s body tensed and he released her arm. Prim didn’t let it fall from where it rested on his shoulder, still intending to remove the mask. Though as she stretched to keep her hand on the back of his head, she was struck by just how tall he was. “Why are you so big?”

The fabric over Con’s mouth twitched. “That’s a two-sided question.”

She blinked, not understanding.

He sensed her confusion. “I could be asking you why you’re so small.”

She finally removed her arm from his shoulder. “I’m not small.” She gestured over herself. She was perfectly average in height. “You are monstrously huge.”

That fabric twitched again. “Monstrously is a bit much, don’t you think, Princess? Plus, most women like that I’m huge.” Was he making a dick joke? He swallowed audibly before quickly adding, “It makes them feel safe.”

It wasn’t intentional, then. Prim still found herself laughing. “Okay, Con, whatever helps you sleep at night. I’d like to point out that the women who like that you’re huge were probably being protected, not abducted, by you. If protecting is what you want to call it.”

“I am protecting you, Princess. I need you alive to get my money.”

Prim laughed again. He hadn’t gotten her joke, but she was still amused. Even more so as her joke implied protecting meant fucking, so he unintentionally just seemed to say I am fucking you, Princess. Though she was more sure than ever that he would never be interested in her in that way. He’d had plenty of chances. She’d practically just offered. Would have, had he not cut her off. He had a woman to whom he was wholly faithful, she was certain of it. She’d have to earn his trust in other ways.

Con just watched Prim as she laughed, and when she finished, she circled back to the issue of the mask, reaching up to pluck at the fabric. Con grabbed her wrist again, halting her.

“You’re going to have to remove that when we get to Sartu. Might as well do it now,” she said, raising a brow.

Con released her wrist with a gentle push away from him and collected the bag. “Time to go, Princess.”

“You know I’m right.” Prim didn’t move. She wouldn’t until he removed that fabric.

Con stiffened again. His back was now to her as he positioned himself to leave the clearing to start today’s hike. It made it easy to see his shoulders sag in defeat.

He lifted his hands to his neck and began unraveling the black fabric wrapped around his head. Prim saw that knot of dark hair she felt revealed first. Then the back of his ears. They were rounded, but she already knew that as he had no wings. He didn’t turn around before tying the strip of fabric around his waist and continuing out of the clearing.

She scrambled quickly after him. “Wait!”

He didn’t. He walked as quickly as he had that first morning, and Prim was nearly in a run to keep up with him.

“Con!” Prim stopped, realizing something. Con actually stilled ahead of her, but he still didn’t turn around. “I forgot my chocolates.”

Con pulled the bag around his shoulder so the opening was on his front side. He extracted the box and held it out for her to see, still turned away. “I repacked it for you.”

“Can I have one now?” Prim took several quiet, hesitant steps forward, but Con remained where he was. She continued until she was right behind him. Instead of taking the box of chocolates from his hand, she placed her hand on his shoulder, a request to turn around. She would see him tonight if not now; she didn’t understand his reluctance. “Con?”

He turned, and she saw his face for the first time.

Or it could have been the hundredth time.

His features were so generic, she could have passed him daily in Hogard and never once noticed him. There was nothing stunningly beautiful about him, nor was there anything markedly unpleasant. There was nothing distinguishing about his face at all. It didn’t even bare any scars like the rest of his body. The only new scar revealed from under the fabric was on his neck, and even it was too small to be very noteworthy. He did have a short beard, though many men wore facial hair, and that could have just been from being in the forest. He looked to be barely older than her; he’d seen maybe thirty years at most.

Mister mysterious assassin was just a perfectly ordinary man.

Con pressed the box of chocolates into Prim’s hand and continued walking. The sunlight rippled over him as it fluttered through the swaying leaves above. “Disappointed, Princess?”

“Why should I care what my captor looks like?” she asked as she plucked a chocolate from the box and took a bite, gingerly stepping over a protruding root. It was delicious. Prim quicked her pace to walk next to Con and extended the open box to him in offering.

He declined with a tight shake of his head. “Back to being your captor, then?”

“When had you stopped?” Prim pressed her thumb into her mouth to suck off a smudge of melted chocolate. Con watched out of the corner of his eye even as he walked.

“You very nearly offered yourself to me back there.”

“You very nearly deserved it after bringing me chocolates and pampering me.” She let her voice carry that soft, seductive tone, curling her lips, but kept her attention on the chocolate in her hand, taking another bite.

Con stopped, causing Prim to jostle into him and stumble. His hands were on her waist immediately, though they fell away as soon as it was clear she was going to remain upright. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

She didn’t, of course. But to answer that would give away too much, allow him to see she wasn’t the air-headed woman she wanted him to believe she was. So she said nothing at all, only furrowed her brows at him as if she didn’t understand his question.

“You don’t fuck someone just for being kind to you. You don’t owe anyone that, no matter how decent they are.”

Prim’s lips parted. Con was a decent man, assassin or no. Interesting how someone could be both.

“And Princess, even if I did accept your offer, I still wouldn’t let you go.”

Shit. He’d seen right through her ruse, though he hadn’t correctly guessed her motives behind it. Perhaps she was an air-head. Her stomach dropped at the thought. Still, she tried to preserve her deception. “Have I made any attempt to escape? I know what’ll happen to me if I try.”

Con just huffed and continued walking at a much slower pace.

It would be some time before Prim would get him to reveal who had ordered the kidnapping. She sighed, following.