Doubting that she would be able to hide the words from him in the future, she thought of terms that named the different categories of ancient Dakrovian potsherds. Based on dead tribal languages from the continent, they had unwieldy names with unseemly numbers of vowels tangled together. They would be hard for other people to remember and even harder for them to pronounce.
I’m done, she told Trip.
Nothing happened. She shook his shoulder and spoke aloud. “Trip? I’m done. Let go, or I’ll—”
He gasped, and his bloody fingers opened. He rolled away from the blade, jerking his hand to his chest and curling into a ball on his side. Tremors shook his body, and blood trickled from his mouth. He looked like a man in his death throes.
“Jaxi? No, Azarwrath. You’re the healer, aren’t you?” Rysha looked for the soulblades, assuming they were nearby. Yes, he’d removed their scabbards from his belt and stacked them to the side.
Yes, an older male voice spoke into her mind. This is not a typical wound, and my healing methods may be inadequate, but I shall try.
Rysha crawled to Trip, again resting her hand on him, on his shoulder this time. His eyes were clamped shut, his face contorted in pain, and the tears that had formed in her eyes earlier rushed down her cheeks. She wanted to gather him into her arms and soothe the pain, but she worried about interfering with whatever the soulblade could do.
She knelt as close as she could to him, dropping her head to his shoulder and finding the hand he hadn’t cut with hers. She gripped it, willing her fingers to somehow lend him support and comfort. Also, she vowed that she would smack him if he survived this. Why had he risked so much just to alter something that wasn’t that important?
No, she admitted. That wasn’t true. It was important. She knew he’d been disappointed in himself after the night at the spring, and hadn’t she also been disappointed in him? Frustrated that he could, even accidentally, take her free will from her? This was his answer, his attempt at fixing the problem. Making it so he couldn’t tell her sword to back down, making it so all their interactions had to be on even terms, that if she was to stand at his side, it would be by her choice.
She kissed the side of his neck. “You’re a good man, Trip,” she whispered. “Even if this was really stupid.”
Are you supposed to call a dying man stupid? Trip’s words sounded weakly in her mind, a whisper.
No, but you’re not dying. I won’t allow it.
You won’t? I thought Azarwrath was the one healing me.
Yes, but I’m nuzzling your neck. You’re more likely to come back for that than for him.
This is very true.
Some of the tension eased from his body, and she lay down on her side next to him, her face to the back of his neck and her arm around him. The rocks were about as comfortable as a bed of nails, but she wouldn’t move until he was well enough to get up and go back to the camp. Or someone came looking for them and made jokes about canoodling.
I always imagined canoodling being more vigorous, Trip murmured into her mind.
When you get better, we can get vigorous if you want. But these rocks aren’t very conducive to it. I imagine a lot of bruising would happen. She kept herself from thinking of the giant one she would have on her knee in the morning. If it hadn’t already turned purple.
Bruises sound delightfully benign right now.
I’ll bet. Do yourself a favor, and don’t touch any chapaharii swords again.
That seems wise, at least until I have more time to study and find methods that would be less dangerous to—
Your heart almost stopped three times, Telryn, the male voice said firmly, ringing in Rysha’s mind as well as Trip’s. Do listen to this woman and follow her advice.
Rysha’s arm tightened around Trip at this confirmation of how close he’d come to dying.
Trip didn’t argue with the soulblade, and a sense of sheepishness emanated from him. He shifted to lie on his back and look up at Rysha.
She pulled off her spectacles so she could wipe a sleeve across her eyes, though she knew she couldn’t hide the moisture gleaming there. When she lowered her hand, she also did her best to wipe the blood from the side of Trip’s face.
His expression grew wry. “I guess that means you’re not holding me because of the ruggedly appealing and masculine way I’m lying here.” His voice sounded rough, like speaking hurt.
“You can use your telepathy on me. As to your appeal, it’s quite nice, blood and all.”
She’d propped herself up for the wiping, but she lay down again on her side, facing him and resting her hand on his chest. She shifted to rest her forehead against his temple.
I’m relieved to hear that. About my appeal. Trip closed his eyes, but he found her hand again, threading his fingers between hers. I suppose I’d have to crawl down to the pool and wash my face in order to have a chance at getting a kiss.
It would be a little weird kissing dried blood.
That’s what I feared. With his eyes still closed, he looked like he was more likely to fall asleep than go clean up.
Such things could wait until he’d rested.
Or so Rysha thought. Movement drew her eye, and she gaped as something that looked like a giant raindrop a couple of feet in height floated away from the pool and toward them.
“Uh, Trip? Is that you?”
“What?” He opened his eyes as the mutant raindrop stopped to hover over his face. Those eyes widened with alarm.
Guessing what was coming, Rysha rolled to the side. She immediately wished she’d stayed there to endure it, since she cracked her knee on the rocks again.
A splash sounded as the equivalent of a bucket of water fell on Trip’s face.
He groaned and wiped his eyes. “Thank you so much, Jaxi.”
Just doing my part to ensure smooches aren’t withheld tonight, Jaxi said cheerfully into their minds.
Rysha brought her fingers to her mouth to hide the giggle that wanted to escape. Aunt Tadelay would say this was an inappropriate time for an unladylike giggle, but with Trip propped up on his elbows, his hair stuck to his head, his face dripping water, and the top half of his uniform jacket soaked, he looked quite bedraggled. And cute.
Rysha thought about crawling back over to his side, but eyed the puddle of water on the rocks around him.
Allow me, Jaxi said.
A gust of warm air came from nowhere, blowing over Rysha, but blowing even harder around Trip. The water under him evaporated as his hair was pushed back from his eyes, fluffed by the wind. When it died down, his usually tidy hair stuck up in a hundred different directions.
This time, Rysha’s giggle did escape. She couldn’t help it.
He shook his head and flopped back down on the rocks. “I’m glad I don’t have a mirror. If my appeal just took a dive off a cliff, I don’t want to know.”
A real woman doesn’t mind a man with mussed hair, Jaxi informed them. And now that you don’t have dried blood spattering your chin, you look far less pitiful overall. If Lieutenant Ravenwood won’t kiss you, I’ll find a nice female who will.
Rysha blinked at the threat.
Trip snorted. In this place? What will it be? A bat?
No, you’re related to the mutated creatures in this cave. I’d have to convince Kaika or Blazer to do it.
I think my odds would be better with a bat.
This is possibly true.
Since the ground was dry, and Trip was mostly dry, if somewhat bedraggled, Rysha returned to him, once again lying down by his side. This must have satisfied Jaxi because she made no more comments about kissing. Rysha wondered if she could convince the soulblade to float her blanket over to cover them up. The cave system wasn’t that warm. And Trip was damp. She supposed there were other ways she could warm him up, if he was up for them. He probably wasn’t, not after nearly dying.
A man is always up for being warmed by a woman, Jaxi shared.
Azarwrath said his heart almost stopped three time
s, Rysha replied.
I fail to see your point.
Rysha snorted.
Trip lifted an eyebrow and met her eyes.
“Sardelle’s sword is surprisingly invested in you getting attention from a woman,” she said, though she couldn’t contemplate offering too much attention. Her career would not be well served by a surprise pregnancy.
Jaxi sighed dramatically into her mind. Don’t your Iskandian first-aid kits come with those lambskin devices designed to prevent that from happening? I’m positive I’ve seen soldiers using them.
I didn’t bring a first-aid kit over here.
Extremely short-sighted. If your attention grows vigorous, I will arrange for one to arrive in a timely manner.
“I think she likes the idea of romance in general,” Trip said, apparently unaware of Jaxi’s latest words. “I understand she used to read novels about dragons and humans falling in love.”
“Given the dragons I’ve met, love seems an unlikely emotion to associate with them.”
“I’m sure they were fictionalized stories.” Trip smiled.
He did look tired, but not… exhausted. Content, actually. Maybe because she was resting her chin on his shoulder and her hand on his chest? He might be able to tell that she’d forgiven him for something that was only nominally his fault. He needn’t have nearly gotten himself killed to earn her forgiveness, as she doubted she could have stayed upset with him for long, but she appreciated what he’d tried to do. What he’d maybe done. They would have to test the sword later. But now, she preferred to stay like this, the warmth of his body contrasting nicely with the cold stones underneath them. The warmth of Trip’s eyes as he gazed at her through his lashes, his lids drooping.
She couldn’t tell if he was thinking bedroom thoughts or falling asleep. Even though this wasn’t exactly the ideal place for expressions of romantic interest, a twinge of disappointment went through her at the idea of him dozing off. She would understand if he did, but she was wide awake now, her thumb brushing a button of his jacket. It would be easy to unfasten that button. And a few more.
“You hurt your knee,” he murmured.
“Just a benign bruise.”
“Mm.” His gaze never strayed from her face, but a warm tingle started under her kneecap and spread all around the joint.
A hint of his power emanated from him as he healed her, the aura she’d noticed around him before when he called upon his magic. As it had before, it sparked something within her, a warm tingle that was nowhere near her knee, and thoughts of getting closer entered her mind, of pressing her chest to his and—
Trip closed his eyes and looked away. “Sorry,” he whispered, and she could almost feel him trying to dampen down that aura.
The warmth disappeared from her knee, but she could tell without moving it that it was better than ever.
“Sorry for healing me?” She rested her hand on his cheek, wanting him to turn his face back toward her.
“For being… I don’t know. Dragonly. On you.”
“It’s called scylori,” she said dryly.
“Yeah.” He kept his eyes closed as if he worried it would seep out of him. “I know it makes you uncomfortable.”
She bit her lip. Had she said that? Maybe she’d thought it. It was true that she was more comfortable with Trip the pilot and socially awkward engineer, perhaps because that part of him attracted her intellectual side, and she’d always put so much more stock in rational thinking than in emotions. But she had to admit that her body, and maybe her soul, had been drawn to his dragon side almost from the beginning. Seeing him use his magic attracted her. She couldn’t help it. She found the power of the attraction alarming and feared she might lose herself—her independence—in it, the way she had the other night, but at the same time, it wasn’t fair for him to have to be something less than he was because it made her uncomfortable. Besides, was she truly afraid that something bad would happen if she gave in to her emotional side? She trusted Trip. Maybe she didn’t fully trust herself and that was why she feared the idea of losing control. But that was her issue to work through, not his.
“Trip,” she whispered. “Telryn—do you prefer that?”
“Not really.” He smiled. “Sidetrip always seemed to kind of fit me.”
“Your superiors seem to agree.” She stroked the side of his face. “I care about you, and I don’t want you to have to hide a part of yourself because of me. You should be… all of you. Always. I can get used to it. I like odd boys, remember?”
He met her eyes again. “Odd boys? Are there a lot of them? Do I have competition?”
“Not a lot. And those other boys don’t have a huge bulge in their pocket that’s getting me excited.”
His smile turned into a smirk. “That’s a fish.”
“You don’t have a better nickname for it than that? Most men do.”
His smirk deepened. “Do you want to see it?”
“Absolutely.”
She could have shifted away to give him more room to unbutton the flap of his cargo pocket, but admitted to getting a zing of pleasure when his arm brushed her chest. She wanted to get closer instead of farther away.
Trip drew out the finished toy which did indeed look like a fish. A fish in multiple pieces that fit together. Curious, she took it from him, experimentally moving a couple of the pieces.
“It’s a puzzle?” she asked, realizing that if she shifted a few more of them around, she would have trouble getting it back into the shape of a fish.
“Yes. The kids may have to grow into it, but it’s the kind of thing I would have liked as a boy.”
“As a boy? Or now?”
“Both.”
His eyes gleamed, and she found it hard to look away. She didn’t want to look away. She wanted to be closer, to spend the night with him.
He lifted his fingers to her lips, tracing them gently, and a warm zing went through her body again. It was different from when he’d healed her knee, but it also felt good. More than good. It curled through her, tingling in all her sensitive places, and she realized this was more than a response from her own body.
“Are you using magic on me, Trip?” she murmured, lowering her lips to his, wondering why it had taken so long.
“Yeah,” he murmured against her lips, then fell to speaking telepathically, which had the benefit of not interrupting kissing. I want to be better for you than playing with explosives.
Remembering the way Kaika had mocked Trip, Rysha quelled the teasing response that came to mind. Besides, another little zing went through her, touching her from the inside out as his arms came around her, pulling her against his chest, and she couldn’t have managed anything that wouldn’t be a lie.
I look forward to it, she thought, then placed her spectacles on a nearby rock as they deepened the kiss. She looked forward to the rest of the night.
22
Trip woke up with a grin on his face and Rysha snuggled in his arms, a bare Rysha in his bare arms. He wasn’t sure where the blanket they were wrapped in had come from, but it took the edge off the coldness that seeped up from the rocks.
You’re welcome, Jaxi spoke into his mind. And I woke you because Duck woke up, and he’s looking around, wondering why nobody’s on guard. I’ve informed him that Azarwrath and I have been standing guard—again, you’re welcome—but the others are probably going to wake up soon, so you and your lieutenant may want to put clothes on and mosey back to camp.
Thank you, Trip said, though he didn’t want to talk to Jaxi or mosey anywhere. And her name is Rysha, not my lieutenant.
Yes, yes, I’m sure it will also be honey, dear, love, and snoffle partner soon.
Trip kissed Rysha’s shoulder, wanting to simply enjoy having her in his arms. Even if a rock was gouging him in the hip. He wondered if she was still interested in taking him for a weekend in that cottage at the back of her family’s estate. It probably had a bed. But once they returned to the real world—and she returned to the influe
nce of her family—would she be embarrassed to be seen with someone like him? Someone who oozed dragonness—scylori, whatever—and had animal half-siblings roaming the world and trying to kill people?
No, he didn’t think she would turn away from him because of embarrassment, but having a relationship might be less simple back in the capital. He would enjoy this now, as he’d enjoyed their night together. He smiled and, sensing her wakening, moved his lips to her mouth. He hoped Jaxi wasn’t waking her up with sarcasm, like some pre-dawn bugle call. With a thought toward soothing away any intrusions, he slid his hand over her hip under the blanket, caressing her gently with his fingers and his mind.
“Mm, Trip,” she murmured against his lips, then slid her tongue out to taste him. “You’re amazing.”
“Amazingly odd?” he said lightly, though her groggy honesty filled his throat with a lump of emotion and almost made it hard to get the words out.
“Yeah, but I can hardly judge after the unpronounceable commands I assigned to a millennia-old magical sword.” Her eyes opened, and a smirk quirked her lips. “I may be as odd as you.”
He returned the smirk. He had done his best not to listen as she’d assigned the words, but he’d had the vague impression of ancient pots categorized by age, shape, and whether they had male or female reproductive organs painted on them. He would most definitely not intrude into her thoughts to hunt for the specific command words.
“Can we have sex again or do we have to go?” Rysha asked.
He blinked at her honesty. “You are indeed Major Kaika’s protégé, aren’t you?”
“Apparently so, but I have no need to go to that Sage place with her, not now.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He kissed her, his hand drifting along her thigh again, and he was thinking that they had time to enjoy each other’s company before returning to the camp, but a bang and an alarmed shout floated across the pool.
Sighing, Trip released Rysha. She took a little longer releasing him, her leg hooked possessively over his under the blanket, and he vowed that he would find a way to stay with her when they got back. To make a relationship work. He would go to her parents in his dress uniform and recite for them a list of reasons why he was an excellent choice for their daughter, even if it included a pedigree that was unlike any other. Or maybe he would offer to repair something for them. Did Rysha have any young nieces or nephews in need of clockwork toys? He could branch out from fish. Perhaps submarines or fliers?