by J. P. Oliver
After all, nothing said “romance” better than a good set of chainmail.
7
Quinn
A date.
Not even a typical dinner and a movie set-up, where I could at least pretend to go through the typical motions on autopilot. No, I was going to do something completely outside of my wheelhouse, where I was, in all likelihood, going to make a complete idiot out of myself in front of Raine in a variety of ways. Not even the nearly scalding temperature of the water could get the tight muscles in my shoulders to unkink. Sighing, I turned off and stepped out of the shower, inhaling the steam as I brushed my teeth, inspecting my face in the mirror and debating whether or not I should shave again.
Wait, did I even have anything to wear? I shot out of the bathroom like a bullet, a new burst of panic flooding through my veins. I sprinted over to the tiny hamper of clean clothes that was still sitting in the hallway, waiting for me to put away one day. I fumbled through the heavy pile in a desperate search for something usable. I managed to pull out a light blue button-down top and a pair of jeans I didn’t recognize, but both fit me surprisingly well and didn’t look too awful. Even with a nearly decent outfit procured, however, my nerves were still a jumbled mess. I heaved a nervous sigh, glancing at the clock: 6:45.
Fifteen minutes to go.
Why did I even agree to this? I raked a hand through my hair, pacing around the main room like a lion in a cage. I was about the furthest from exciting a person could get - a lead weight in every conversation, dragging it down until someone finally took enough pity on me to excuse themselves and walk away. Raine was all charm, bright and breezy,
This was destined to be a disaster.
Maybe Raine would reconsider on his way over here. Sure, it’d be last minute, but I’d understand. He’d realize, just as I had, that this was an absolutely terrible idea, call me up to cancel and apologize. I’d re-book the bowling alley for fun day, shove the charming puzzle of Lochmire out of my mind. The two of us would happily go our separate ways, and I could hole back up in my apartment until doomsday, unbothered and alone.
A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. So much for my hope Raine would cancel on me. Flexing my hands in an attempt to squeeze a last bit of courage from them, I strode over and opened the door.
For a surreal moment, I stared blankly at a fully armored knight, dressed in a helmet and full chainmail.
Before I could get my brain even close to working, the knight moved his arm with shocking swiftness, and bopped me soundly on the shoulder with a long foam blade.
“That’s a hit,” came the amused, muffled voice of Raine. He lifted the visor of his helmet, revealing a large, impish grin.
I was still so startled I actually laughed; a real one, belly deep. “Okay,” I said, once my laughter trailed into fading chuckles. “I wasn’t expecting that. At all.”
“Just getting you ready for training. Constant vigilance!” Raine crowed, moving his sword arm towards me again, but this time I managed to dodge nimbly out of the way.
“How about that?” Raine said, sounding genuinely impressed. “You learn fast.”
“I try.” I smiled, then, worriedly poked my head further out my door, looking down each hallway. To my great relief, it looked like the neighbors’ interest hadn’t been piqued by the commotion yet.
“Yeah, I guess this would be tough to explain,” Raine said, catching on. He rested his foam sword on his shoulder. “Shall we, then?”
“We shall,” I replied, amused. I walked out of my apartment, pausing to grab my favorite leather jacket and lock the door, and then I followed Raine to his car.
The drive to Lochmire was pleasant. Raine seemed sincerely interested in learning more what I did at the base, and I had no shortage of questions about how Lochmire worked, much to his amusement.
“It’s incredibly fun and incredibly rewarding, but it’s also just as challenging. Most of my day is spent making sure I can personally account for every single thing that’s going on,” he said, half-smiling.
“You have Roux to help you out though, right?”
Raine shrugged. “Yeah, and he’s great but...I don’t know. I feel better when it’s all under one roof, and that roof is me, you know?”
That sounded to me like a surefire recipe for burnout, but it wasn’t my place to start criticizing him, especially on our first date.
“Sounds like a lot of work,” I allowed myself.
“It is,” Raine admitted, “but so far, I’ve got it all under control.”
We arrived at Lochmire shortly thereafter, the night fairly chilly but definitely not unpleasant. Raine parked in the small lot, exiting the car and grabbing a large blanket, a thermos, and several cheesecloth bags from his trunk.
“I know it’s pretty chilly tonight,” he said to my confused expression, “but I thought maybe I could show you my favorite spot in Lochmire? Eat outside?” He was half-hidden behind his bundle, but I still noticed him shifting nervously.
“A picnic?” I asked.
“Yeah, I thought it’d be...uh...you know, nice.” He winced. “Unless you don’t want to, then that’s totally fine.”
“Only if you let me help you with that,” I told him, smiling, and easily took the bags into my hands. His shoulders sagged in relief.
“Awesome,” he said, grinning, and turned on his heel. “Follow me!”
We walked for about a quarter of a mile, across the large, grassy field of Lochmire to the top of a small hill. A single, great oak was there, the majority of its leaves still on its boughs. They rustled in the small gust of a cold breeze, their bright yellow almost still visible despite the encroaching night. Raine flung out and set down the thick woolen blanket, fixing its edges as I set the sacks of cheesecloth in its center.
“Okay,” Raine began eagerly, sitting on the blanket, patting a space beside him before turning his attention to the bags. “Might be a little weird, but I thought I’d go the route of traditional Lochmire rations for dinner.” He untied one of the bags, revealing a surprising and colorful variety of different foods.
“I’d start with this one. This right here is hardtack with honey,” he explained, pointing to each food in turn as he identified them. “The mini links up here are cured spiced pork sausages; the ones down in the corner there are pepper turkey. These are dried veggies, and the cheese is a cheddar with cranberry.”
He picked up the thermos, pouring some liquid into one of two plastic cups attached to its side, handing it to me as I sat down. “And this is my favorite apple cider. Non-alcoholic, though.” He smiled. “I figured you’d want all your wits about you when we start whacking at each other with swords.”
I stared down at my drink, and then at the little cornucopia between us. “Did you make all this yourself?” I asked, honestly awed, and he laughed.
“Just a little part of it. Not any of the really complex stuff. I got most of it from a friend who’s really into making traditional medieval fare,” he told me, already gathering up a small handful of unshelled sunflower seeds from another bag. He gestured at the rest of the food. “Dig in.”
Everything was delicious, from the mini pickles to the sweetened multigrain bread loaves. Raine even pulled out a pair of turkey drumsticks for us to gnaw on, the lack of silverware actually doing wonders for my jitters. Illuminated only by the soft light from an electric lantern Raine brought up with us, I glanced up between bites to take in the full view of the stars above us as they glittered against the dark blue of the night sky.
“That was fantastic,” I told him once we had finished, helping him gather the leftovers back into their own bags, and I meant it. Raine ducked his head, smiling -- though it was nearly pitch-black, I thought I saw a hint of a blush on his face from the glow of the lantern.
“Thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, really, it was Nicole’s idea.”
I smiled. “You’ll have to thank her for me.”
“Yeah.”
<
br /> Raine looked at me shyly, his eyes soft and heavy-lidded, locking with mine. For a long moment, I froze, barely even breathing, as my stomach gave a slow, hot pull towards him.
Then Raine cleared his throat, jerking backwards -- I hadn’t even noticed how close he had been until I felt the heat radiating from him leave.
“Uh, we better get to that combat lesson,” he said quickly, turning away. He rubbed his hands together and hastily grabbing the cheesecloth bags.
“Right.” I felt lightheaded, my heart thudding rapidly against my ribs. As though I was in a daze, I scrambled to help him grab the thermos, bundling up the blanket and taking the lantern with us as we walked back towards the castle-shaped building of Lochmire.
Raine took me into a room I hadn’t seen during my earlier visit, snapping on a pair of fluorescent lights on the ceiling as we walked in. A long mirror spread across one side, and the floor was padded with red and blue cushioning. Several mannequins were set around the room, each one wearing beige thickly padded armor with open-faced helmets. There were two long racks of weapons on either side, all of them covered in foam, from battle axes to longswords, a colored ribbon on the unpadded hilt of each one. I also spotted several beanbags in a neat pile.
“Welcome to the official Lochmire training hall,” Raine said, spinning around to face me. He jerked his thumb towards one of the mannequins near him. “Just put that on, and we can get started.”
As Raine picked up another set of armor, I approached the mannequin, lifting the armor off of it and putting it on as best I could, starting with the shinguards. A belt for the groin area went on next, and then I pulled the large chestplate over my torso. Once the gauntlets were on and I felt completely ridiculous, I turned to see how Raine was doing.
“Looking good,” he said, grinning, clipping the chinstrap of his helmet. I felt my face heat up, turning away and quickly putting the helmet on in an attempt to hide my flush. Raine walked over to one of the weapon racks, retrieving a pair of swords and tossing one in my direction. “Figured we’d start with the swords first.”
I examined the “blade” in my hand, bright red foam encasing its length. “What do the different color ribbons mean?” I asked.
“Damage types,” Raine answered. “That’s more complicated stuff, but the idea is that a club doesn’t do the same kind of damage as a sword, even though with us both weapons might look exactly the same. The ribbon color is shorthand for that.” He looked me up and down, and I did my best not to shift under his gaze. “Does everything feel comfortable?”
“Yeah. Clunky, but comfortable.” I adjusted the gauntlets a little. Raine grinned.
“All right, I like to start everyone off with the best part. Try and hit me as hard as you can with your sword!” I made a motion forward, and then Raine flinched, putting his hands up, and I quickly backpedaled. “Not in the face, though!” he amended rapidly.
I stared. “I wasn’t going to hit you in the face. That’s the only place you’re not protected, so I figured that would definitely be against the rules.”
Raine gave a relieved sigh. “Remind me to tell you about a guy named Greg later. Okay, Quinn, do your worst.”
I swung the foam sword, aiming for the thick padding on his chest, the largest target. It connected with a satisfying thwack that reverberated throughout the room. Maybe I swung it a little too hard. Upon impact, Raine teetered off balance for a moment. He regained his footing just in time, looking up at me, stunned. I panicked.
“Sorry! I thought --”
“That was awesome!” Raine crowed. “What a hit!” The admiration in his gaze wasn’t doing anything to help reign in my blushing.
“Uh, thanks,” I muttered, still feeling self-conscious, though I was utterly relieved I hadn’t accidentally hurt him.
That mischievous glint appeared in his eyes again. “Now,” he said, crouching slightly into a defensive stance, “Let’s see if you can hit a moving target.”
I swung my sword again -- and hit empty air. Raine moved with an agility I didn’t think was possible with the weight of the armor, somehow appearing on my left. I pulled back, trying again, and Raine dodged that one, too -- and the follow-up I was trying my hardest to catch him on. He weaved between every one of my blows with the grace of a dancer, which would be impressive if it wasn’t utterly humiliating. But I was definitely having fun with it. I felt sweat bead down my smiling face as I tried to bop him over and over again, shaking my head when Raine elegantly whirled out of reach every time. Eventually, I held up my hand as a signal to stop, panting heavily.
“Hey, not bad,” Raine said, through heavy breaths of his own. He walked up next to me and put his hand on my far shoulder, bringing us suddenly close. My eyes roved over his face: the giddy joy in his eyes, the way the soft, supple curve of his lips moved as he spoke, an arrogant, jovial lilt to his tone. “Next time, I’ll --”
I kissed him before he could finish.
8
Raine
Quinn pressed our lips together, the breath hissing out of his nose, hot and moist and urgent. The startled noise I made quickly turned into a pleased groan as he moved his mouth against mine, my eyelids fluttering closed. My hand reached out, resting against the hard angle of his jaw, the two of us heat and eager passion, fire and lightning.
Yeah, definitely way better than what I had imagined.
One of his hands went right to my waist, large enough to neatly wrap around it, his thumb pressing against my hip bone. His other hand gently encircled my back, fingers splayed against the space between my shoulders, supporting me as he deepened the kiss further, sending a white-hot flare of heat to join the building coil of tension just below my stomach. I pressed back, deepening the kiss even further, and my knees nearly buckled when he swiped his tongue back against my own.
And then he stopped.
I nearly yowled in protest as Quinn abruptly withdrew, taking that sinful heat with him, leaving me suddenly cold. I blinked at him, unable to form words, and he strode over to the other side of the room, all anxious tension and nothing like how I wanted this to go at all.
“Hey,” I croaked, when my mouth finally managed to work again, “You okay?”
He paced back and forth against the far wall, raked a hand through his hair.
“Sorry,” he said, so quiet I could barely hear it. “I don’t know what...I didn’t mean…”
He stopped himself with a frustrated growl. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, locking his dark eyes onto mine, and the intensity I saw there sent a new, powerful thrill coursing through me.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, clearing my throat and risking a smile. “Just wanted to let you know I really, really did not mind that. At all.”
Blessedly, the corners of Quinn’s mouth quirked up, but not for long, his mouth settling back into a thin, grim line. But then he murmured, “I didn’t either,” his voice soft, and my brain almost stopped working entirely.
Why’d you stop, then? A plaintive voice inside me shrilled, but I frowned, pushed that the hell out of my mind. If that kiss was as far as he wanted to go tonight, then that was fine by me. Hell, it was already way more than I ever expected anyway. I nodded at him, tried to calm the fire racing through my veins.
“So,” I started, my tongue darting over my lower lip in an attempt to taste him there again, “any ideas about what class you want to be?” It was an excruciatingly obvious and desperate attempt to make conversation -- any conversation -- to shrug off the thick, awkward tension. I didn’t feel there was anything else I could do. I walked over to the mannequin nearest to me, glancing at Quinn through the mirror, and started stripping off my shin guards.
“Looked through the list. Not sure,” he replied, his voice a hoarse rumble that rolled right up my spine. I moved on to take off the gauntlets, and was startled to discover that his eyes were bolted on my every move, trailing my every action. I peeled the gauntlets off slowly, watching him watch me through the mirror. He shift
ed uncomfortably as I stared right back at him, and I felt that coil of heat right below my navel lash and flare in reply.
Maybe there was a little more going on here than just that kiss.
Boldly, I tugged the chestplate up and over my head, intentionally taking my shirt with it, relishing in the loud gasp I heard behind me. I spun around, tilted my head to the left, and pulled a corner of my mouth into a half-smile.
“I thought about some options for you,” I told him, watched his eyes rove all over me, his throat visibly constricting with a hard swallow. “Barbarian.” I took a step towards him. “Rogue.” Another step. “Paladin.”
We were close again, with that final step, right into his personal space, but Quinn hadn’t made a move to escape again. I had to crane my neck back to keep our gazes together.
“What class are you?” he asked, husky and low, blatantly trying and failing to keep his voice even, forcing himself to look away only for his eyes to settle back onto me seconds later. Adorable. I shrugged.
“Just a regular ol’ Fighter. Armor and a good weapon is all I need.” His brows knit together, and I laughed. “Kind of surprising, right? Fighter’s the class we recommend for everybody new. It can’t do as much as the other classes, so it’s easiest to get a real hold on the basics, but what it does, it does really well. Everybody kind of graduates from it, eventually. But I never did.”
Now or never, Raine. I mustered up the last remnants of my courage, put my hand back on the side of his face. Immediately, his own hand flew up to grab mine -- but not to swat it away. Instead, he held it there, against his cheek, his skin burning under my palm.
