Are we there yet? When are we getting there? Are we there yet? How far have we gone? How close are we?
These questions would have flowed out of my mouth frequently talking Orian's ear off if he hadn't gagged me.
He never said a word while we rode on and he sure as hell wasn't planning to. The guy hardly talked and he romanticized solitude, so while our current situation was bliss for him, it was hell for me.
I shifted on the horse trying to find a suitable position to manage the pain shooting through my legs and I heard him groan, "Stop doing that!" His hands tightened on the reins of the horse like he was trying to hold on to some fragment of control or something.
What the hell is wrong with him?!
The pain transferred from my legs to my waist, shooting up my spine and circulating my
