Chapter310 – Thirsty?
“I want to find a safe place before nightfall,” he replied, pushing through the trees. Both of them were soaked in blood—if they didn’t clean up soon, the smell could attract wild animals.
Suddenly, he stopped.
“Did you find somewhere?” Clarissa asked.
“Not yet.”
He carefully set her down, then stepped forward alone.
Atticus pulled a short knife from his boot and brushed away the dirt in front of him. Metal glinted beneath the soil.
He sneered. “Nelson.”
Blowing up the bridge had only been a diversion. This was the real trap.
He scanned the area. The minefield stretched wide—at least two hundred meters. There was no easy way around it, and he didn’t want to waste time searching.
He turned back to Clarissa.
“Is it bad?” she asked quietly.
“This entire area is filled with mines. Roughly a two-hundred-meter radius.”
Clarissa immediately understood. “Everyone else is already dealt with. So who sent the message?”
Atticus’s smile turned razor-sharp. “There’s a rat hiding in the shadows.”
“Natalie.” Clarissa looked up at him. “Should we try going around another way?”
“Go around?” Atticus laughed softly. “No need.”
Under her puzzled gaze, he unfastened every firearm he carried and tossed them onto the ground.
Then he lifted her into his arms again.
“Atticus?”
“These are too heavy. Not very useful right now.” He adjusted his grip slightly. “Clarissa… how much do you weigh these days?”
She thought for a moment. “The last time I checked was about a month ago. Ninety-six. It shouldn’t have changed much.”
Under Clarissa’s puzzled gaze, Atticus lowered his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Be good. Close your eyes. Relax your body,” he murmured.
Clarissa gasped instinctively, the sudden sensation of being suspended and weightless making her stomach flutter. But he was already steadying her, his grip firm as he leapt from tree to tree, using their branches for leverage.
She clung tightly, still shaken.
“Atticus…”
“Relax, Clarissa. Don’t be so tense,” he reassured her.
Her eyes tracked the branches ahead and she finally understood his plan—he was going to swing them across using the trees as a bridge.
“Wait… those branches can’t hold both of us!” she protested.
“Relax. Trust me, okay?”
Feeling her body loosen slightly in his arms, Atticus’s face softened, a rare, fleeting smile playing at his lips.
“Good girl… so brave.”
Before she could respond, he launched them into the air.
Leap after leap, they moved through the trees, and finally, with one precise motion, he flipped her over and landed solidly on the ground.
“See? I told you I’d catch you,” he said, steadying her.
Clarissa slapped his chest hard, eyes flashing.
“Bastard! You could’ve killed me!” She glanced at the darkening sky. “We need to hurry.”
Atticus paused mid-step. His sharp gaze caught a glint of movement to the side. With lightning reflexes, he pulled Clarissa behind him. A bullet zipped past, missing his cheek by inches.
Natalie’s face appeared, twisted with jealousy and fury.
“Atticus! Clarissa! You’re both dead!”
The minefield detonated with a deafening roar. Natalie spun and fled as explosions ripped through the clearing. Atticus, clutching Clarissa, rolled with the blast, landing in the bushes just as shrapnel rained down.
When the dust settled, a huge crater scarred the clearing. Trees splintered, earth scorched, and the air reeked of smoke and blood.
Clarissa lay beneath a soft tangle of bushes and mud. A shard of shrapnel grazed her cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
The metallic scent made her heart pound.
“Atticus…” she whispered.
“I’m fine,” he said softly. He pulled her closer, shielding her instinctively.
After ten tense minutes, they reached the riverbank. The full moon hung low, bathing the scene in pale light.
Clarissa crouched next to him. “Show me where it hurts. Let me see.”
He lifted his shirt. Moonlight revealed a mangled, bloody back. His white T-shirt was soaked, a shocking contrast to his pale skin. She gasped and dug into her bag.
“Do you have medicine? I’ll treat it.”
“It’s in the vest’s pouch,” he said, handing her the dagger to open it.
Clarissa’s hands trembled as she picked out tiny shrapnel fragments, pulling them gently under the moonlight.
“Does it hurt?”
“No… Clarissa. Don’t worry,” he said, voice steady.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, unbidden. She let them fall freely, concentrating on removing the shards.
Finally, she reached the largest piece, lodged deep. She bit down, forcing it free, then poured the medicine over the wound, pressing it firmly. Blood seeped through her fingers, but she refused to let go. Hatred for Natalie burned in her chest.
After the bleeding slowed, she carefully bandaged him, finally sitting back.
Atticus laughed softly, a warm, low sound that melted the tension.
“Silly Clarissa… why are you crying?”
She looked at him, startled, then hugged him tightly.
“I’m sorry…”
“For what?”
“For everything. From now on… I’ll be by your side. I’ll never leave again.”
She had always felt their worlds were too different. But now… no matter what dangers or hardships awaited, she wouldn’t let go of his hand.
Atticus trembled slightly, feeling the warmth and softness of her embrace.
“Clarissa…” he murmured.
She took a deep breath and stood. “Rest for a bit. I’ll handle the laundry.”
After washing the clothes, she wrung them out and set them aside. Her eyes fell on his pants.
“You should take these off too,” she said, cheeks flushing slightly.
Atticus’s mischievous grin returned.
“So… Clarissa wants to see me take my pants off?”
“Idiot! Be serious!” she snapped, flustered.
They both knew the priority now: clean off the blood and find a safe, secluded place to rest.
Atticus sensed her hesitation and stopped teasing, lighting a small fire in the clearing. Clarissa hadn’t bathed in over a day, and at first, she hadn’t noticed—but now, after the adrenaline faded, the grime and blood made her skin crawl.
She removed her last piece of clothing and waded into the river, rubbing herself down with soapberry leaves. She chewed a few leaves and spat them out, the fresh scent filling her nose. The metallic stench of blood was finally gone.
Just as she considered rinsing her hair, she felt it—a pair of burning eyes on her. She knew without a doubt who it was.
Turning, she met his intense gaze. Even though they had been naked together countless times, being looked at like this still made her flush.
She hurried from the water, draped in his vest, and rushed toward him.
Before she could reach him, he pulled her into his arms. Just as he leaned in, she quickly pressed her hand over his mouth. “Let me wipe you down first, okay?”
He had been injured and couldn’t bathe, his body and face smeared with blood. Wiping him clean would at least make him a little more comfortable.
Atticus pouted, slightly irritated but still compliant.
Clarissa carefully wiped the blood from his face. The red streaks didn’t diminish his looks—they only added a dangerous, wicked charm.
Her breath hitched, and she looked away, only to regret it immediately.
“You…” she whispered.
“Why stop? I haven’t washed in a day and a night. Every part of me needs cleaning.” His tone was teasing, laced with heat.
Clarissa’s ears burned. “You bastard… when did you get like this…”
Atticus feigned innocence. “Clarissa… you seduced me. It’d be disrespectful not to react, wouldn’t it?”
She cursed him silently as a pervert, continuing her careful ministrations.
His low, husky voice reached her ears. “Hurry up. The smoke could be noticed. We need to move soon.”
Clarissa glared, hastening her work. Once she finished, she let out a small sigh of relief—just in time to be pulled into his arms. Their lips met in a sudden, passionate kiss.
Atticus held her tightly, his voice rough and intoxicating as he murmured against her lips, “I’ll let you off the hook… for now.”
By the time they broke apart, their clothes had dried, and they were ready to leave. Atticus used dirt to extinguish the fire, ensuring no smoke remained, then carried Clarissa off into the night.
They finished the last energy bar on the move, knowing the journey ahead was long and they still needed food.
The night was alive with the chirping of insects and rustling of small animals. A deer ambled by, only to vanish in a flash—its head severed before it could react.
They pressed on, gathering wild fruits and herbs along the way, until they found a secluded cave.
Inside, Atticus lit a fire and poured the deer’s blood into a container. Dozens of silver butterflies swirled around, drawn to the scent.
“They’re my pets,” he explained. “They need blood to maintain their strength. Don’t worry—they won’t harm you.”
Clarissa watched, mesmerized. “They’re beautiful… and eerie,” she murmured, captivated by their cold, otherworldly elegance.
“Will they harm people?” she asked, curiosity piqued.
“They mostly feed on me or animal blood. Some can drain life, but they won’t touch you unless I allow it.”
Seeing her fascinated expression, Atticus added, “Ask anything you want." She was his partner… his family. She deserved to know everything.
Clarissa’s eyes sparkled. “These are Gu worms? Is this what you’ve been raising?”
He sat beside her patiently, explaining the complex process of refining these creatures. Clarissa listened while nibbling fruit, her expression serious as she processed his words.
“So… some of these can drain your life force?” she asked, concern sharp in her voice. “You’re not allowed to use them on yourself. I don’t want my husband dying young.”
Atticus’s chest tightened at her words, at the way she said “husband.” He looked at her, hoarse and low, “Don’t you find this terrifying? It’s a curse.”
Clarissa shook her head calmly. “Everything exists for a reason. It depends on who wields it. You’ve saved lives, Atticus. That’s enough for me.”
“Clarissa…” His voice dropped even lower. She had understood him completely, offering unwavering support. The realization filled him with guilt—he had underestimated her in the past. Had he been honest sooner, they might never have endured such peril.
A sharp pang of regret swept through him.
“Atticus… what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said softly, shaking his head. “It’s late. You should rest. Tomorrow we travel again.”
He tried to pull away, but Clarissa grabbed his collar, leaning close. Her eyes roamed over him, sharp and discerning. “Liar. You’re clearly unhappy.”
Her hands cupped his face, holding him in place. “Where did I say something wrong?”
“Nothing…” Atticus’s throat felt suddenly dry, and he swallowed hard, his gaze locked on hers.
Clarissa’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Thirsty?” She plucked a berry, chewed it lightly, and pressed her lips to his.
The soft, fragrant taste—sweet and slightly tart—drove him wild. He pulled her closer, ready to take control—but she straddled his lap, deliberately slowing him down.
She lowered her head, kissing him with fierce intensity. Atticus responded just as wildly. A pale pink smear appeared on their lips, trickling down onto Clarissa’s clothes.