Risky Boots Novels & Stories

"As much as I hate to interrupt the show, boss, we have a tight schedule. I found some high-end, reinforced combat boots in the back section. Black leather, steel shanks, lightweight." ​He stepped directly into my line of sight, effectively blocking a portion of the mirror. He crouched down in front of me, his half-open jacket swinging forward to reveal the sharp lines of his chest and the dark ink tracing his collarbones. He picked up one of the heavy boots, holding it out toward my foot. ​"Let's see if we can get your sizing right, Feisty," Daniel murmured, his voice dropping into a quiet, unexpectedly smooth register as he took off the current boot I was wearing, his fingers brushing the

Is that what I’m seeing? I press my fingers to my temple, willing it all to stop. Mum holds up a pair of boots. “These are cute, right?” “Yeah. Super cute,” I nod and she gives me a knowing look. “Harper, you haven’t even looked at them.” I glance at the boots. They’re black leather with chunky heels and silver buckles. Definitely my style, or at least they used to be. But all I can focus on is the way the threads are tugging at my mind, each one demanding attention, each one louder and more insistent than the last.

I соugh аt the раіn сhоkіng mу hеаd, аnd trу tо stop thе rеtсhіng іn my mouth аnd mу jеrkіng аrоund on the flооr. Thе bottom оf thе реrѕоn’ѕ boots іѕ close nоw. It’s jеt blасk ѕtіlеttоѕ thаt соuld оnlу bеlоng to оnе person.

I leaned into him, and together we limped our way toward the shack of solitude. *** “You should probably take the first shower.” I kicked off my boots with a groan of satisfaction and then a moue of disgust. Running, wading through a stream, running some more, being captured, and then getting more or less doused in blood hadn’t done the insides of those boots any favors. “And I think these need to be burned.” Ian swooped down, picked up the boots, and unceremoniously flung them out the open front door. “No arguments here. Are you saying I smell as bad as they do?”

They have a slim fit and reach down to his ankles. The boots were made of black leather and are laced up to his calves. They had a thick sole and provided good grip on different surfaces. Ryan's attire gave him a sleek and dangerous look, even though he wasn’t any dangerous I gave him a quick nod, signaling that I was ready, and he responded with a determined look in his eyes. "Are you ready for this, father?" Ryan asked me, and I can feel his excitement and determination rubbing off on me. I take a deep breath and stand up straight, looking out over the pack. "I should be asking you, if were good, let me know so we can begin our journey."

He sighs and calls back, “Sorry, I’m not sure which ones.” She comes and leans on the doorframe, he’s lined them up, but is now staring at a rank of black leather boots, he looks up at her looking puzzled. She smirks, “The heaviest ones.” He nods, and lifts them one by one. He smiles when he finds them. “They have steel toes and thick soles to protect my feet when I ride.” He nods, and she goes back to her seat on the bed. He kneels in front of her again and holds out a boot to her. She undoes the clasps so he can see, then he does the other boot. Sliding it onto her foot, doing up the clasps again.

Even his leather boots had steel toecaps, making him look every inch a bad boy biker who liked to crush skulls beneath his feet. As if reading my thoughts, he replied, “I would put on some sensible footwear if I were you.” I made a move to stand up. “You’re not taking her rock-climbing up the mountains of Forest Hills,” Grayson chastised his brother, scrunching his face. “Stick to the nature trail.” Grayson was hot on my heels as I left to rummage through my luggage, looking for my hiking boots. They were brand new, never worn. I was likely to end up with blisters after my first time wearing them.

“Jungle foot.” “Huh?” I look at him quizzically. “Jungle foot, or foot rot. It’s from wearing your boots too long and sweating. Our soldiers in Cambiador get this when we go on ruck marches, and they can’t shift.” “Doesn’t their counterpart heal them?”

he said. “Well, that would have been helpful information when we first met,” I said. “Not really, you couldn’t do anything with it. I’m going to wager you still couldn’t. Sheila said she wanted to have you work with Greta.” He held up a pair of boots. “She also said you needed these.” The black combat boots in his hands were practical, sturdy, and looked like they could do some damage if I ever needed to kick someone while wearing them. Basically, they were my dream shoes. I crossed the tent and took the shoes from him. “Thanks.”