by Thia Mackin
I released my own groan as the point of my dad’s wooden rapier jabbed me in the stomach. The blunted tip stung, but I would basically be unharmed. He and I both knew that the practice sword would leave no more than a bruise. The poke was his way of getting my attention back on the fight, and—unsurprisingly—it worked. I had been told a hundred times that turning my back on the opponent in front of me would get me killed, so I forced myself to ignore the observers and concentrate. If he could teach me despite his tensions with the recent World Trade Center bombing and the growing anti-foreign attitude in Germany, I could at least give my best effort.
Suddenly, Dad thrust, and his weapon clanked heavily against my own as I raised it to block. From my point of view, he didn’t appear to be slowing or tiring at all. He often joked that after a couple hundred years, I would be able to keep up without trouble. Unfortunately, at a mere thirteen, my arm felt heavy and the practice weapon was awkward. Omniscient as always, Dad took two quick steps backward. “Switch hands, Snowflake.” He grinned when my nose wrinkled at his pet name for me, and he was still smiling as he renewed his attack.
Thrust, block, attack, parry. Uncle Derek preferred teaching me archery, but Dad liked swords. The joke in my family was that I had gained my father’s height, my mother’s ice-blue eyes, and Uncle Derek’s love for projectiles. But until Mom stopped refusing to allow me to handle a gun, swords and bows were the only man-made weapons I could wield. Otherwise, I had to rely on defensive training, like martial arts. Once I was old enough, Uncle Derek assured me that I would learn the quickest way to break a person’s neck and how to suffocate a person without crushing the windpipe. Of course, I knew better than mention that particular tidbit to Mom. She would likely go on a rampage about how Uncle Derek’s Tuveri ancestry gave him bloodthirsty tendencies.
Block, block, block, block. My footwork was becoming sloppy, and I needed to either find an opening or make one. No way could I lose all three matches on my birthday. My smaller size worked as both an advantage and a weakness. If I could just find a vulnerability to use, I would win!
“Attack, Sarki! Slice him wide open!” came the enthusiastic encouragement from behind me again.
Unfortunately, Dad must have heard an entirely different message. Two seconds later, I was sprawled on the ground. If we had been using metal swords, my intestines would have been beside me. Still, Dad graciously offered me a hand up, but he always won with class. He and Uncle Derek often told me that ‘you don’t have to batter the person’s pride on top of their body after you thoroughly beat him into the ground.’ Personally, I would have probably found the energy for a victory dance.
“What is this, Snowflake?” the kind baritone teased, rubbing a thumb across my sweaty forehead. That same voice barked commands to the men and women under his command, but Dad never used his “in-charge” tone on me.
Mom slid up to him, slipping her small arm around his waist. “Fhin, leave Sarki alone. You are going to embarrass her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her hold you off so long! My little girl really is growing up.”
Dad, Uncle Derek, and I rolled our eyes. “Caitlyn, leave Snowflake alone. You are going to embarrass her,” Dad mimicked, earning a grin from all of us.
Then Dad and Uncle Derek began a critical analysis of the three mock battles, pointing out the mistakes that had cost me ground and ultimately the matches. Relief filled me when we arrived at the small house we rented on the base. Dad and I raced to the showers. Mom began heating the birthday dinner she had cooked the day before, and Uncle Derek nabbed the remote control to the television.
Thirty minutes later, the smell of the roast had permeated the house. Nothing else could have lured the two men from the television like the knowledge that a hot meal was being served in the kitchen. When Dad took his seat at the table and set the remote by his silverware, Mom and I laughed. “Hey! I fought hard to gain control of this thing. Don’t think I’m going to leave it unprotected to have it stolen back by the enemy.” A brief skirmish broke out as Mom passed me the potatoes, but Dad predicted the attack and guarded the piece of plastic admirably.
As the first spoonful dropped to my plate, the house shook around us. I stared at the mound of mashed potatoes in awe as the silverware rattled against the glass platters. An instant later, the sound of a distant boom reached us. For a moment, I could convince myself that a sudden storm had moved in over the military base. However, the house’s shudders were harder the second time.
Mom forced me beneath the table as the base’s sirens began to blare. From the corner of my eye, I saw Uncle Derek closing the shutters. His quick movements told me a truth I didn’t want to know. “Shush, sweetheart,” Mom whispered as she urged me to lie on the floor. I hadn’t said a word.
I couldn’t see anything except the cream-colored sweater my mother was wearing, so I buried my face against her shoulder. My arms wrapped tightly around her back. Above me, her body was as stiff as the floor beneath us. Even the walls groaned as the ground quaked again, sending my plate crashing to the floor near our heads. Neither of us moved as another rumble sounded, louder than even the blaring sirens. Then a second peal of thunder followed before the first had faded.
From somewhere nearby, Dad’s voice reached me as he gave Uncle Derek the order to reach the command center. This can’t be an attack, I thought as I curled up tighter against the floor. No one will attack us. It’s an earthquake. Before the boom could warn me, my entire world shook and collapsed.
Hypnos chirped near my ear, rubbing his face against my cheek and smearing cold tears everywhere. The weirdness of the feeling caused me to sniffle and touch my eyes. Was I crying?
“You okay, soldier-girl? You were having a nightmare.” Rankar’s voice sounded exhausted, just a few feet from the bed. His boots were tucked beside the chair, and he had removed most of his weapons and his shirt.
Sitting up, I wiped the wetness away. “Hey, you. What are you doing here…”—I glanced at the clock on the nightstand—“at four in the morning?”
Just enough light came from the still-open door to show me his boyish grin. “Coming to bed?”
A laugh escaped before my hand covered my mouth to stifle the last of it. “Your parents are still home. They don’t leave until lunch.”
His pants slid to the floor, and he picked them up, folded them, and placed them on the recliner. “Excellent. I will probably sleep that long.” The double bed dipped, and my body rolled toward him with the motion. Strong arms caught me, wrapping around me in a hug. “Dang, Kinan. Eager to see me?”
No force behind the blow, I slapped his chest with my palm. “This bed isn’t meant for two people,” I argued, even as pressure in my chest disappeared at the touch.
He sighed, squeezing me tighter for a moment. Obviously, he felt it too. “I’ll go upstairs. Just wake me if I sleep too late?”
Before he could release me, my fingers tightened on his shoulder. “Don’t leave. We can make this work. Big spoon or little spoon?”
His laugh sounded loud in the darkness, so I placed my palm over his mouth. After a moment, his teeth grazed the fleshy bit, and I pulled back. “Big spoon. And I’ll shut the door while you get comfortable.”
Moving to the far edge, I curled on my side and listened to his steps as he moved across the room, shut the door, and returned. This time, my grip on the edge of the mattress kept me from rolling toward him. “Scoot this way?” he murmured after he stopped shifting.
His hand rested on my hip, his chest cradled my back, and his lips caressed right above my spine. “I’m glad you’re here, Ran,” I whispered, linking our fingers and pulling his hand between my breasts.
“Love you, Kinan,” he murmured. Then his body relaxed into sleep.
I, on the other hand, lay awake for hours, rehearing those words.
Chapter 13
Sunday morning flew by. Chores I typically saved until afternoon to occupy the day kept my hands busy right after breakfast. I finished the meal i
n record time—probably because my stomach was too upset to eat much. Each bite hit the bottom like a lead weight.
Holy shit. He loved me. Pausing with the pitchfork balancing me, I looked upwards and waited for the Goddess to tell me this had all been a grand joke but the jig was up now and I needed to move along. He loves me. Was that even possible? Only a month had passed since I arrived, and we had barely seen one another in that timeframe.
Sure, his heat drew me like a fire in the hearth after a half-day patrolling in the snow. The touch of his skin to mine eased a craving that physically ached in his absence. I trusted him when he told me that no curse could harm him, and the warmth in his eyes infused me with peace. Was that love? Lust? I’d never experienced either, so how did I label it? The single established fact I accepted without hesitation was that this was something.
“How about some help before I head out?” Mycal offered. “I’m sure you have somewhere else you’d rather be this incredibly productive morning.”
Thanking him, I began shoveling dirty straw into the wheelbarrow again. The repetitive task left me plenty of time to linger on my dilemma. Triswon and Elie, they obviously love one another. Ryn and… “Mycal, how did you know you loved Karyn?”
The horses shifted in their stalls, and one of the dogs barked in the distance. However, I finished cleaning the floor before using the wall and one crutch to step out. He sat on the straw bale and patted it. A longing look at the unfinished stalls made me sigh, but I limped over to sit down.
“Really, how does anybody know they’re in love? Being around her makes my day better. She is the first person I think of when I wake up or when I have good news or when I want comfort. I want to help her with her problems and make her life better. I want to kiss her and have a life with her. I want to be the person she thinks of when sappy love songs are on the radio. I want to be the person she sees clearly, and I want to see her clearly.” His shoulder nudged mine. “Does that help?”
I shook my head then nodded, eyes staring into the stall across from me. That definition both cleared it up and muddied the water. Didn’t I go to bed each night wishing Rankar were there? I studied Welsh for hours daily because I wanted to surprise him by speaking his native tongue. His presence alone did improve my day.
Oh, Goddess. I loved him.
Mycal patted my shoulder comfortingly then helped me up, sending me to the shower well before ten in the morning. Karyn met me on the way. “Kinan, I prepped a few meals for you in the freezer. Just put them in the fridge each morning as you need them.” Her eyes sparkled as she patted my hand on the grip of the crutch. “Mycal has decided to escort me to the Fatih Sithen, so we’ll be heading there now. Do your therapy. Don’t stop using the crutches until I return. And make sure Rankar gets enough sleep.”
My mouth gaped, and she disappeared around the corner before I gathered my wits. “Son of a…”
::???:: Hypnos questioned.
Any word that escaped would be inappropriate, so I decided instead to shower. On an ordinary day, I would have panicked about how to occupy the rest of my time before night came to reset everything. Yet anticipation filled me instead. So much so that I didn’t bother to dress in the change of clothes in the bathroom, wrapping a bath sheet around me and entering the bedroom as silently as possible.
Sometime in the past four hours, Rankar’d rolled to his stomach. The pillow half-covered his face, probably to block out the light. Ditching the crutches to make as little noise as possible, I moved to the windows to lower the blinds and close the curtains. Instantly, midmorning turned to midnight. A vampire could have slept in this room without fear.
Inhaling around the discomfort, I made it to the bed, dropped the towel, and crawled under the covers. My cheek on his shoulder and a leg thrown over his thigh, that feeling of safety and comfort washed over me. Naturally, my breathing synced with his, and my eyes drifted closed.
“I’d complain that you let me oversleep, except waking up with you draped over me will never get old,” a sleepy voice grumbled.
At some point, he’d turned to his back. However, my position hadn’t changed much, which explained his lips against my temple. “Good afternoon, Ran,” I murmured back, intentionally cheerful as my hand searched for his beneath the covers.
His fingers linked with mine, settling on his chest. “That’s the same tone of voice my people use when they are about to deliver bad news, and I’ve decided that bad news is prohibited today.”
My laughter shook the small bed, causing the drakyn stretched on the edge of the mattress to lose his balance. “Karyn and Mycal have left. Your mother gave me strict orders to make sure you rest, but all the chores are finished for the day. So I’m all yours, or you’re all mine… Any of that going to get me locked up?”
His other hand rubbed the back of my neck, and my body stretched against his like my alternate form had slipped free. “All good, though I can probably muster up some handcuffs if you so desire.” My stomach growled, and his mimicked the noise. He snorted. “Or we could settle for food.”
My eyes opened, and I sat upright beside him. Taking the cue, he pulled himself up against the headboard, allowing me to steal the comforter to cover some of my nakedness. “Ran… want to go on a—a date with me?”
The grin was unexpected but welcome. “I would. When?”
I smiled back. “Lunch, maybe? My treat.”
He nodded, glancing at the clock. “A late lunch.”
It occurred to me that all of my clothes except a few pair of borrowed sweat pants resided on another Plane. “Maybe an early dinner,” I corrected.
Gears turned in Rankar’s head, and he nodded. “Could you be ready in an hour?”
Thinking myself, I wondered whether Elie or Triswon were home. “How embarrassed would you be if I’m wearing a pair of your sweats?”
His fingers relinked with mine. “You look great in my sweatpants, and they’d probably be more comfortable than jeans with your leg.”
Emotion caught in my chest. He was too perfect… and I wasn’t even close. “Then an hour sounds good.” I lifted his knuckles up to my lips and kissed them before untangling from the covers and standing.
As I reached for my crutches, his arms wrapped around me, and heat washed across my skin. His mouth found mine. Without hesitation, my body surrendered into his support, and I returned his kiss.
After a few moments, he pulled away. “Kinan, I—” he began before pausing, “I look forward to seeing you in an hour.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead and then handed me the crutches before striding out of the room to go to his house, leaving me certain he’d been about to say something different.
Hypnos carried a letter to Elie, letting her know that I was okay and asking for help picking out an outfit. The drakyn had to make four trips between the Banded Traveler and the house to bring the outfit. He could only bring one boot at a time, and his final Gate revealed he had a mouth and two paws full of ground meat. “Don’t you dare land on my bed with that!” I growled, rerouting him to the top of the dresser with his reward from Elie’s kitchen.
The satchel she’d sent on the first trip held the outfit. New with tags on, the dark blue strapless bra and matching underwear set obviously belonged to neither me nor Elie. However, the pair of golden brown, suede pants that I typically wore on diplomatic missions buttoned from the bottom of each leg to mid-calf, which meant I could access a knife in my boot if I caught myself in trouble somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be armed. The lacy blouse, though, was my figurative fairy godmother’s. While the turquoise color did match the cutouts in my boots and the belt, the top half appeared to be missing—held up by two spaghetti straps. The sleeves began just below the shoulder and fell just above my elbow. On Eliecha, I bet it hung partway down her forearm.
Then there was the wristlet containing eyeliner and lip gloss. I tossed them back into the bag but slid American currency into the small purse. Sara—my alternative identity—never lef
t the house without a full face of makeup. Not me. And Rankar had planned a date with me. A little voice wondered in the back of my mind if perhaps Elie had sent them because she knew something I didn’t.
Crutching my way to the bathroom, I applied the eyeliner and lip gloss. The ebon-gray liner made my eyes look larger, and Eliecha probably heard me cursing her intuition on Elysii. The gloss tube went in with the money, and I headed toward the front of the house with ten minutes to spare and no sweatpants in sight.
Tires on the gravel driveway warned of someone’s approach, but since Hypnos didn’t appear, I waited. Perhaps Rankar needed to grab something from this house before we left? But minutes passed, and still no date.
Worried, I moved toward the entryway. Then the clocks throughout the house chimed three o’clock, underlined by a knock from the door. Maybe it wasn’t Rankar… Careful not to damage the shirt with the crutches, my hand flipped the lock and turned the knob. “Oh,” I murmured, allowing my eyes to move from head to toes twice.
His dark wash jeans appeared lightly worn compared to his normal ones, and the boots had been polished. The button-down shirt tucked into his pants revealed a pressed white undershirt, possibly new. Normal, everyday Rankar made my mouth water. This Rankar left me doubting the wisdom of a public appearance. What if I accidentally ripped his clothing off in a restaurant?
The twitch of his lips reminded me that politeness recommended opening the door. Stepping back using a single crutch for balance, I managed to let him in without falling on my butt. He paused, half-inside. “Wow.”
Uncomfortable, I shrugged my free arm. “You’re ‘wow’ yourself.”
He grinned. “I was excited to take you out wearing my sweatpants. This is even better.”
The boyish enthusiasm earned my smile. “I’ll add ‘easy to please’ to the list of reasons you’re perfect for me.”
