Inharmonic (The Music Maker Series Book 1) Read online

  “It’s just my ankle.”

  Nadja reached down and felt the area around his foot. The skin around his ankle, already puffed with swelling, strained against his boot. Pax hissed when her fingers met a sensitive spot.

  “That boot needs to come off. I can’t get a good look,” she said. “Can you walk on it?”

  Pax shifted his weight onto his left leg then grunted and clenched his jaw, abandoning the idea. Nadja reached out to steady him, wrapping her arm around his waist. Pax turned his head and looked down at her with a cheeky grin.

  “Looks like you’ll have to play doctor.”

  As Nadja ducked her chin, thankful the low light hid her features, Pax peered over her shoulder. The smile fell from his face, and his eyebrows lifted. “That must be some rogue current,” he murmured.

  Nadja followed his gaze and her jaw dropped. “Oh my.”

  The narrow cave entrance led up a steady incline into a larger, open area. Stone walls on either side of them bore matching horizontal stripes. The wall below the stripes was moist and dark, marking the crest of high tide within the cave. The light faded as it followed the watermarks further into the darkness, but not before highlighting the cave’s most intriguing feature.

  Boxes, sacks, baskets, crates, and piles of driftwood littered the cavernous room. Some rested along the water line, but most had been pushed up onto the dry floor by those closer to the water. Nadja followed the cobbles further into the cave.

  The containers were in varying states of decomposition. Some appeared to be almost new, while others were dark and decaying, covered in mildew and long since having lost their original shape. The ones further in the cave were in better condition than their soggier brethren closer to the water.

  Nadja approached one of the newer-looking crates and ran her hand along the wood. It was damp and broken along the outer edge. She peeled back the cover and looked inside. A cache of metal gears, now red and brown with a thick layer of rust, made up the contents of the crate. She angled the lid towards the cave entrance, barely able to make out the markings on top.

  “Grenyan Trading Company,” she read aloud.

  She inspected more similar-looking crates, all bearing the same insignia. Then she approached one of the older-looking containers. The markings were almost unintelligible, but she was just able to make them out. “Ferris Bros. Trading,” she said.

  Then, realization dawned.

  “Shipwrecks,” she said matter-of-factly, looking up at Pax.

  “That would explain all the broken wood,” he agreed.

  “The cargo must have been caught in the same current we were.” She surveyed the room. “Some of these must be decades old.”

  “That’s much longer than we’ll last,” said Pax, in a rare moment of earnestness.

  The light coming into the tunnel faded as the tide continued to rise. If the waterline on the walls was any indication, the cave entrance would be completely under water in a few minutes.

  “We need to get higher,” said Nadja, making her way back down the incline to Pax. “Lean on me,” she said, slipping one arm around his waist and bracing her other hand against his abdomen. Pax grunted at her touch but allowed her to support some of his weight.

  They picked their way up the incline. As they approached the large room, the cobblestones gave way to the smooth, solid stone floor. Once they put a comfortable distance between themselves and the water, Nadja helped Pax lower himself into a seated position propped against the wall. When she withdrew her hand from his abdomen, her palm was sticky.

  “You’re bleeding!” she exclaimed. She dropped down beside him and squinted in the fading light.

  “I did have a personal encounter with a few river rocks,” Pax joked.

  Nadja shuddered at the memory of his body being slammed against the boulders. He hissed as she lifted the edge of his shirt, revealing a gash across his belly stretching from his navel to his ribs. It was wide and ugly, and blood flowed freely from the wound.

  “We need to stop the bleeding,” she said. She pulled her pack over her head and set it on the floor beside her. It was drenched but still intact. Pax shifted, and she looked up just in time to see him remove his shirt.

  Nadja’s mouth went dry as she stared at his shirtless form. Even in the disappearing light, she could make out the hard lines of the muscles defining his torso. The fluttering in her stomach began to stir, and her face and neck flamed with heat.

  Pax wrung the water out of his shirt and balled it up. He cringed as he pressed it against the wound.

  Yes, his wound!

  Nadja chided herself. She should be focused on his well-being, not his well-defined physique.

  She glanced away and pushed herself up. “I need to get a fire going before we lose the rest of our light.” She busied herself gathering the drier bits of driftwood and broken boxes, grateful for a distraction from the half-naked man just a few steps away.

  The cavernous room reminded Nadja of the atrium at the conservatory, mimicking its high, vaulted ceiling and making her feel very small. An incessant breeze blew in from the sea, ever pushing them towards the darkness beyond, and indicating the cave had another opening. Though the likelihood of that other entrance being near, let alone reachable, was slim, Nadja took comfort in the fact that they at least had a steady stream of fresh air.

  Once she had amassed a sizable pile of wood, she removed the box of pearls and rough stone from her pack. A wistful smile traced her lips as she remembered stealing that stone, among other things, from Pax the first time they had met. Then, he had saved her life. Now, she hoped to return the favor.

  Aiming for the smaller bits of wood, she struck the stone against the side of the metal box. Sparks flared in the darkness, and soon she had a respectable fire blazing. It sizzled as the heat evaporated latent pockets of moisture before the flames rose in intensity.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Pax illuminated by the firelight. He silently watched her move about the cave, wearing a look which she could only describe as contemplative. She felt as if she was being observed underneath a magnifying glass, and her palms began to sweat.

  Pretending to ignore his study, she attended to his ankle. He grunted against the pain as she maneuvered the boot off of his foot. A mottled purple stain covered the skin around his ankle as if someone had spilled a glass of wine into his boot. She needed to elevate his foot to help with the swelling.

  Nadja retrieved her pack and emptied its contents, arranging them around the fire to help them dry. Her extra clothes were soaked, but made for a decent pillow on which to rest his ankle. The dried meat was wet, but still edible. The berries had turned to jam while the bread had completely disintegrated. She gathered some meat, her canteen, and the tin of healing ointment Pax’s mother had made—another pilfered item—and returned to check on him.

  “How is it?” she asked, kneeling beside him and avoiding his gaze.

  Pax peeled the shirt away from his wound, never taking his eyes off of her. The cloth shone bright red in the firelight, but a close inspection of the gash revealed the bleeding had all but stopped. She opened the canteen and poured a small stream of fresh water along the edge of the gash, rinsing away bits of sand and salt.

  The temperature in the cave dropped as the water flowed in, completely covering the entrance and eclipsing the last rays of light. It was somewhere just past midday now, but in their little cliffside alcove, the fire would be their sun until the next low tide.

  A chill ran up Nadja’s spine. She capped the canteen and reached for the ointment. The little tin glinted in firelight.

  Pax finally spoke. “That looks familiar.”

  She raised her eyes to his, having the tact to appear somewhat chagrined. “It comes in handy,” was the only reply she offered. She dipped her fingers into the creamy salve and began to dab it gently along the length of his wound.

  She was suddenly struck by how good this felt, taking care of him for a change. Unti
l now, their roles had been reversed. He’d saved her from the ghost cat attack. He’d appointed himself her bodyguard after she’d been kidnapped. And again, he came to her rescue during the Heartstide Festival.

  But now it was her turn. He wouldn’t have made it out of the river alive on his own. In the midst of the rapids and the storm, he had listened to her and deferred to her, with no objection. She couldn’t imagine any of her tribesmen yielding to her commands, no matter how dire the situation. Pax trusted her. And now, it was her turn to watch over him. And he was allowing her to do it without complaint. It felt balanced. It felt right.

  Absorbed in her own thoughts, Nadja’s hand slowed in its treatment. She didn’t notice Pax’s movement until his fingers grazed the back of her hand. Surprised, she looked up.

  Her heart stopped when she met his eyes, dark and stormy in the shadows of the cave. Her hand flattened against his abdomen as his hand closed over hers. She felt an overwhelming desire to lean into him and press her lips to his once more. To see if the reality of his kiss matched the memory she carried in her heart.

  Then, in a rush, she recalled his last kiss. It wasn’t with her. It was with Laurel.

  Nadja leaned back, pulling her hand from his grasp. She leapt to her feet and paced across the room to a pile of mangled boxes.

  “I need to find something to bind your wound,” she stammered. “Our clothes are too wet. Maybe there’s something we can use in one of these crates.” She began picking and sifting her way through the clutter.

  “Why do you always do that?” Pax’s voice was low and controlled. His usual mirthful undertone had completely disappeared.

  “Do what?” she asked, uncovering another crate of metal gears.

  “Run.”

  She moved to another mound of boxes. The Grenyan Trading Company shipped a lot of metal. Not helpful for binding wounds. “I don’t know what you mean,” she replied.

  “I think you do,” he said. “You’ve been running ever since the first day I met you.”

  “Yes,” said Nadja, unearthing a shipment of linens. Ah ha! The fabric was mildewy near the walls of the box, but the cloth in the center was clean and dry. There wasn’t a lot of it, but it would have to do. “I told you.” What exactly had she told him? “I was trying to get away from the Wanderers without being caught.”

  “But you never stopped. Every time you’re frightened, you run.”

  Nadja ripped the linen into manageable strips and crossed back over to Pax. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Tell me you don’t. Tell me every time you get in a situation you’re uncomfortable with, you don’t bolt just like that mule. If you have the chance.”

  She steeled her resolve and knelt beside him once more, focusing on her task. She wrapped her arms around his waist and passed the linen between her hands. Her face came to within a breath of his chest. The light coating of hair which dusted his sun-kissed skin tickled her cheek, causing her to catch her breath. She pulled back, settling the fabric tightly against his wound. One down.

  “And what am I supposedly running from right now?” she asked, reaching around his waist once more. Her heart hummed within her chest. His familiar woodsy scent mingled with salt and sweat, leaving her lightheaded.

  Stop it, now. He has feelings for Laurel, not you.

  She swallowed hard and wrapped the second layer. Two down.

  “I can think of a couple things,” he rumbled. This close to him, Nadja felt the low vibrations of his voice. “Something sent you running to Chansey.”

  “I already told you,” she breathed. “I need to see my uncle. Chansey is where he happens to be.” She wrapped her arms around him for a third time. The firelight danced across his body, outlining the hard edges of the muscles right in front of her eyes. She fought the urge to rest her head against them. Wrapping the third layer, she let out a shaky breath. “And what else?” she asked, securing the ends of the fabric.

  Again, his hand found hers, stilling its ministration. “Me,” he said. “Why are you running from me?”

  Reflexively, Nadja pulled her hand back, but Pax reached out and grasped her wrist.

  Nadja’s fingers clenched into a fist, and her breathing increased. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

  Pax turned her hand palm up. He reached out and peeled back her fingers one at a time. “Do you truly not know?” He brought her palm to his lips and placed a gentle kiss in its center.

  Her hand burned. How was it such a simple gesture could ignite such fire within her? “Pax,” she murmured, “I . . .”

  Then the memory of Laurel’s arms around his neck and his head bent low over hers flickered in Nadja’s mind. She shook her head and twisted her wrist from his grasp. “You must have swallowed too much salt water. I think you mistake me for someone else.”

  Pax drew his eyebrows together, frowning. “Not a chance.”

  “Laurel?” Nadja lifted her chin and looked pointedly at him.

  Surprise and then understanding showed in his eyes. “Laurel is a friend of mine, nothing more.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Please. You must give me more credit than that.”

  He nodded and rested back against the wall. “Nadja, I have tried my best to be your friend,” he said, slowly. “Before I went home for the Candlefire Celebration, you made it clear friendship with you was all I could hope for. I’ve spent these last few months trying to put you out of my mind. Laurel is a friend of mine, and, yes, she may harbor some fondness for me. But I have never felt anything beyond friendship for her.”

  “How can you say that when you kissed her at the Heartstide Festival for the whole world to see?”

  “Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but I did not kiss Laurel at the Heartstide Festival or any other time. She came to congratulate me after our performance. I don’t know, she may have hugged me.”

  Nadja searched her memory. True, she had only seen the back of him that night. And Laurel’s smug face. Was it possible she’d drawn the wrong conclusion?

  Pax pushed away from the wall and slowly reached for her as if he was afraid he’d frighten her away. His hand cupped her face, and he ran his rough thumb along her cheek. Nadja didn’t pull away.

  “I have never kissed Laurel.” His eyes held her captive. “I’ve never wanted to kiss her.” She trembled as his thumb traveled down her cheek and across her bottom lip. “Not like I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

  Nadja’s head swam. Could it be true? He had been so distant since his return to the conservatory she’d believed he had given up on her. Was it possible after all the time she had spent keeping him at arm’s length, he still wanted her?

  “I know exactly who you are, Nadja Machinal. Wanderer refugee. Fighter and survivor. Dreamer. Musician . . . keeper of my heart.” He slipped his other hand behind her neck, tangling his fingers through the sensitive hairs at her nape. Nadja’s breath caught in her throat as he tugged her towards him. Her shivering had nothing to do with the cold air.

  Pax brought his face to hers, his eyes dark and flashing in the firelight. “Say you’ve changed your mind, Pretty Lady.” His husky voice echoed in the cavernous room. “Say it.” He brushed his nose lightly against hers. “Tell me I have even the smallest hope.”

  Nadja finally found her voice. She managed a faint whisper.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 34

  Pax’s mouth hovered over hers for a moment. Long enough for Nadja to think perhaps he hadn’t heard her. Then, with excruciating slowness, he lowered his lips to hers. They were just as she remembered, warm and soft. Her eyelids fell closed.

  He was gentle. Testing. He approached her with a tenderness which shattered into a million pieces what remained of the wall around her heart.

  When his tongue traced a lazy line along her bottom lip, Nadja gasped. A shock bolted through her body on contact, sending sparks to the tips of her fingers and toes, and a swirl of simmering charges deep into her belly. Her mouth ope
ned instinctively, but Pax continued his slow, deliberate assault on her lips.

  Her breathing came quicker, and she brought her hands up to rest against his chest. The pounding heartbeat beneath her palms betrayed his relaxed overtures. She ran her hands up and over the hard planes of his chest. A tight ache was building within her. She needed . . . something more. Her fingers began kneading the muscles of his shoulders, trying to pull him closer.

  Much to her distress, Pax stopped his languid seduction and raised his head. As Nadja lifted her heavy lids, he pinned her with his gaze. His eyes were fierce, and the muscles in his neck were taught as if struggling against an unknown restraint. He stared into her eyes, searching for something. Time stopped as the world itself took a breath. Under the weight of his stare, Nadja’s heart clenched and a soft whimper escaped her lips. In response, a rakish grin flashed across his face.

  Then his mouth was on hers once more. This time with an urgency matching her own. Pax’s hands fell from her face, running down her sides and gripping her waist. His lips traced a trail down the side of her neck leaving fire in its wake before returning once more to her mouth. A low growl met her ears, sending her pulse racing. His kisses were hungry and demanding, and she rose to meet him at every turn. With her mind reeling, her body acted of its own accord. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against his torso.

  Pax sucked in a sharp breath and pulled back. Dazed, it took Nadja a moment to realize what had happened.

  “Oh no! I—”

  “Shh,” said Pax, placing a finger against her lips. He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. They rested together like that for a time, his hands encircling her waist and her fingers laced behind his neck. Their chests rose and fell in tandem as their breathing returned to normal.

  When they regained control of their emotions, Pax released his hold on her. He ran his hand along his makeshift bandage.

  “No harm done,” he said, giving Nadja a reassuring smile. He reached out and pulled her to him, tucking her under his arm and nestling her against his good side. The stone wall was cold against her back, but between the heat radiating from Pax’s body and the warmth coursing through her own, she barely noticed.