Revolution

by Montana Ash

  Max looked relieved before becoming uncharacteristically hesitant, “The one I talked about first – it’s different. I know it is. It’s special – just for us, isn’t it?”

  Ryker nodded, unable to speak in case he made a fool of himself. They had indeed formed their own unique bond. Max had once said it was because their love was so strong.

  “I thought so. That’s what I meant when I said I do recognise you. A part of me does anyway.” She peered at him, sooty lashes creating dark, enticing veils over the vivid colour of her eyes. “Is it a shitty consolation prize?”

  Ryker felt his own eyes widen, “Not at all. It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” he promised, realising for the first time that he meant every word. He finally understood what Jasminka and even Max herself had been saying. He didn’t love Max for her memories. He loved her for her open heart, her beautiful soul, her complex mind, and her endless compassion and selflessness. The woman before him may not be exactly the same as the one he had fallen in love with, but it was clear he would fall for her all over again. He grinned, knowing he would no doubt fall in love with her in every guise, in every lifetime, and in every world. And, holy shit! Wasn’t that exactly what Max had said to him one perfect night a mere eight weeks ago?

  “I recognised you. I would recognise you anywhere. In every lifetime. In every world,” she had vowed. Was this what Max had been referring to? It may not be the blatant recognition that Ryker was wanting, but it was more than enough to fuel his hope.

  “Maybe we should have sex?”

  Ryker choked on his spit. Smooth, man. Real fucking smooth, he chided silently. “S-sex?” he managed to stutter out.

  Max shrugged, “Sure. I just said my body knows yours. Who knows? Maybe it will kick start real memories.”

  Ryker allowed his eyes to wander over the generous curves of Max’s frame. Her breasts were a healthy handful – even in hands of his size; hips rounded and full; stomach flat, sparkling with a colourful jewel in its centre. Her legs were short – really short – but they were strong and they gripped his hips to perfection every time she rode him hard. Ryker groaned, the temptation that was sitting in front of him, “You have no idea how much I want to take you up on that offer.”

  Max quirked a brow, “Why do I get the feeling there’s a but?”

  Ryker groaned again, falling back onto the cool sand, “Because there is. The wanting of you is endless, Max. My body will always want yours. And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want your heart more. Your mind, your soul – they are far more important to me than a few earth shattering, mind blowing, cataclysmic orgasms.”

  Despite his noble words, his dick throbbed and he knew if the damn thing could talk it would be swearing at him right now. He idly wondered if he’d need to have a dip in the icy water before he’d be able to walk without a limp. Warm, gentle weight suddenly appeared on his chest and he opened his eyes to find Max straddling his waist, hands planted firmly on his pecs. “What the? Max! I’m trying to be a gentleman here. I –”A soft finger against his lips shut him up. Looking up, he saw his world smiling down at him. The affection and warmth in her oceanic eyes was so familiar he felt tears prickle behind in own eyelids.

  “I know you are,” Max informed him. “And I appreciate it. I even think it’s the right response. Possibly. Maybe ...” Max’s voice got quieter with every word she spoke, her eyes travelling over his body in an almost physical caress. Shaking her head, she glared playfully down at him, “But if you’re not going to put out, you and your boys can stop your evil plan now.”

  Ryker felt his eyes widen, “Evil plan?”

  Max shook her finger at him, “Don’t play innocent with me. Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to? Flaunting your bodies, playing with my innocence.”

  Ryker burst into loud, unrestrained laughter upon hearing Max refer to herself as innocent, “Honey, you may be clueless, but you are so far from innocent it’s laughable.”

  Max’s lips twitched, her gaze running over his face. “Hmm. If Axel is white sugar and Beyden is brown sugar, I think that makes you raw sugar.”

  “Huh?” Ryker had no idea what she was talking about, but it seemed her ability to switch topics at the flick of a wrist was still wholly intact.

  “Oh, nothing. Just some thoughts of mine whenever I see you men prowling half naked in the kitchen.” She gave a delicious wiggle where she was still perched on his lap. “Definitely raw sugar,” she confirmed.

  How had he forgotten she was sitting on him? Well, he was remembering now – with a vengeance. He was so distracted by the delicious curves under his palms that he almost missed the familiar tingling on his face as a result of the hand Max had placed there. “Fuck!” he swore, quickly scrambling backward and dislodging the sexy goddess from his lap. “No! Stop that!”

  Max looked up at him, her eyes a swirling galaxy of endless colour. Ryker sucked in a breath; the custodian was before him once more. And she had just tried to heal his face. By her rapid blinking and confused frown, he deduced that she hadn’t known what she was doing. “Max, I’m sorry. But I don’t want you to heal me.”

  Max frowned, “Is that what I was doing?” Shaking her head, she looked at her hands. “I was looking at you, and suddenly felt this rush of energy. I had this overwhelming urge to put my hands on your face. It felt almost familiar. Kind of like déjà vu.”

  “That’s because we’ve been here before. Just like this. And back then, you made me whole again. But it had nothing to do with the scar you healed on my face and everything to do with who you are. I know I haven’t been the best example of a man since you returned, but I assure you; I’m not that broken man I was before you came into my life. I don’t want you to heal me. I don’t need you to heal me,” Ryker explained.

  Max looked confused, “But your face?”

  “Does it bother you?” Ryker asked.

  Max quickly shook her head, “No. The opposite of bother in fact. But –”

  “No buts. I mean it. Save your energies and your gifts for someone who needs it.” Searching that familiar face with the unsure frown, Ryker made a decision. “I know what I’m going to do.”

  Max tilted her head to the side, her glorious hair, falling in waves over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, “And what is that?”

  Reaching for her hand, he placed it on his chest, directly over the heart that still beat just for her. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me all over again.”

  “Oh,” was her breathy reply. A delightful blush spread across her cheeks and she tugged her hand back, using it to tuck her hair behind her ears.

  Ryker grinned. A flustered Max was a sight to behold. “You’ve been warned.”

  Max searched his face for a moment. Ryker had no idea what she saw but her smile turned wicked in an instant before she said; “Challenge accepted.”

  His eyebrows winged up, “I didn’t issue a challenge.”

  “Didn’t you?” Max questioned, sounding enigmatic.

  She turned to leave and he was left with his mouth hanging open and wondering how she had somehow gained the upper hand, when a new thought hit him “Max. One more thing.”

  She paused, “Yes?”

  “Beyden. Can you fix him?” Ryker wasn’t sure if he was pushing his luck or not. But Max had just attempted to heal his face. If her ability to heal had returned to her, then it might be possible for her to help Beyden. Ryker hated seeing his usually happy friend so depressed and moody. And in so much pain. Beyden hadn’t ventured out of his bedroom since the incident yesterday and Ryker was seriously worried his physical and mental health had been dealt an irreparable blow.

  Max’s eyes swirled briefly before she answered, “Fix him? Or fix his leg?” she asked, before walking off without waiting for an answer.

  Ryker shook his head, “Cryptic Goddess!” But he was smiling.

  TWELVE

  Since the incident at the training lodge a couple of days prior, Beyden
had regressed so much that Jazz was having a hard time identifying the tense, pain-ridden man. Even at his worst in the first week post-surgery, his grumpy demeanour had been nothing like it was now. Jazz was positive she had been gaining ground with him, but all that had been wiped out thanks to a spiteful man with a blade. Beyden’s leg giving out in front of witnesses was a blow to his pride that could be enough to break him. She couldn’t let that happen.

  She had a feeling that no matter what she said or did in relation to his leg, it was not going to do any good from this point. Beyden had made up his mind that it was irreparable and that he, in turn, was useless. Physical strength and prowess were such integral parts of their society and traditionally how they judged the worth of their soldiers, Jazz knew. Though Jasminka thought the notion was rather archaic, she could understand its origins given their society was built on those who guarded and those who needed guarding. But she knew just how integral a patient’s mental and emotional well-being was in relation to their recovery, and she knew that was the area Beyden now needed to focus on. And as his doctor, that meant she now needed to focus on it.

  Mustering her courage and taking a deep breath, Jazz rapped on the closed bedroom door. There was a murmur of voices before Lark opened the door, immediately smiling when he saw her.

  “Jazz! Hi.”

  She smiled, “Hello. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  Lark waved away her apology, “You’re never a bother. What’s up?”

  Jazz shifted a little, clearing her throat, “I was hoping to speak with Ivy.”

  “Doc?” The woman in question asked, popping up from behind her partner. “Is something wrong? Is it Beyden?”

  Jazz held up a soothing hand, “He’s completely fine. Well, I mean to say, there are no changes. But your brother is the topic I would like to discuss with you.”

  The petite ranger’s shoulders relaxed even as her dark eyes narrowed minutely. She shrugged, swinging the door wide and gesturing, “Come on in.”

  Jazz murmured a thanks, glancing around the room that was basically a mirror image of Beyden’s. A quick glance toward the bed showed it was neatly made and with no evidence of extracurricular activities. Jasminka sighed in relief. After living with so many couples for almost two months, she had learned that they were all rather demonstrative in their affections. In her previous life, such open displays of desire and emotions would have left her uncomfortable, jaw clenched tight and eyes averted. But since Max had freed her true self, all Jazz felt was envy – and a little horny. She smirked to herself, okay, more like a lot horny, she thought, replaying the image of Beyden pleasuring himself in the shower.

  “Do you have an update on the state of Bey’s leg?” Ivy asked, gesturing to one of the two comfy-looking armchairs by the window.

  Jasminka shook off her inappropriate thoughts and smiled her thanks, taking a seat, but perching on the edge. She was a little nervous. “Not really, no. Despite what happened two days ago, I’m almost certain that his physical recovery has plateaued. There are no signs of infection, his wounds are largely healed other than the inevitable scarring. He can weight-bear, and other than the ongoing pain from the damaged nerves, I believe his injury to be stable.”

  Ivy watched her in that non-blinking way of hers, and Jazz found herself relaxing a little more. She knew that most people would consider it rude or disconcerting to be stared at in such a manner, but Jazz knew she often looked at people the same way, so it didn’t bother her in the least. It simply meant the other woman was listening and taking her seriously.

  “Okay,” Ivy said. “That all sounds like good news.”

  Jasminka nodded, “It is. From my perspective anyway.”

  “Ah, I see,” Ivy sighed, leaning her weight against Lark where they sat side by side on the bed.

  Lark rubbed a comforting hand over Ivy’s arm, “It is good news – from a human perspective. But from the perspective of a soldier whose sole purpose in life is to serve and protect, stable and plateau aren’t good enough.”

  “Exactly,” Jazz agreed. “And I understand – I honestly do. But I’m afraid his belief that he will never be the same again physically is affecting his mental and emotional wellbeing as well. Don’t get me wrong, trauma such as this takes a toll. It’s completely natural. But I fear what should be a short-term emotional roadblock is becoming long term.”

  Ivy frowned, looking worried, “I agree with you. We all do. We’ve all noticed the changes in him. We’ve done everything we can think of to snap him out of his funk, but nothing seems to be working. I’m very worried about him,” Ivy admitted.

  Jazz sighed, relief flooding her upon hearing the admission from the stoic ranger’s lips. She hadn’t made a mistake coming here. Hadn’t overstepped her bounds. “I’m glad to hear that. I wasn’t sure if it was just me or not. I mean, I didn’t know him before the injury so I have nothing to compare his countenance to. But I’ve been led to believe that he is usually a very warm, caring, and happy man.”

  “He was – is,” Lark hastily corrected himself. “one of the kindest people I know. He definitely isn’t himself.”

  Jazz nodded, “Okay then. Well, as his doctor, I am unsatisfied with his progress and as such thought it was my responsibility to devise further treatment options.” There, she thought to herself. That sounded very reasonable and professional. Too bad the smirk on both Ivy and Lark’s lips told her they weren’t fooled by her wordy, formal speech. Ignoring their knowing looks, she continued;

  “I have a four-step treatment plan in mind but I’m going to need help with it,” Jazz finally admitted, holding her breath for Ivy’s response. Jazz really liked Beyden’s reticent sister, and although she was pretty sure Ivy enjoyed her company too after their little chat, Jazz couldn’t be certain. She was notorious at reading social situations incorrectly, after all. And when you add on Ivy’s stoic demeanour, well, Jazz was a little hesitant as to what her reception would be, despite the other woman’s obvious care and concern for her brother.

  “What kind of treatment plan?” Ivy asked.

  Jasminka drew in a deep breath, “The first step is to make him see that he no longer requires the cane.”

  Lark sat up straighter. “You don’t think he needs a walking aid?”

  “No. Not anymore. I said before; Beyden’s leg is as healed as it is going to get. There is nerve damage and there is scarring. I can’t do anything about that. And despite the amazing healing capabilities of your paladin bodies, I think your super genes have done as much as they can do in that department too. But the wounds are no longer new and fresh. His rehabilitation is complete. There is no medical reason why he should need to use the cane for stability anymore. He will always have a limp, but his muscles are strong. He doesn’t need a walking aid.”

  “Fuck,” Ivy whispered. “I didn’t know he was holding himself back that much.”

  Jasminka simply nodded, seeing no point in adding to the woman’s burden by playing the blame game. Their whole society was undergoing a major upheaval after a battle of epic proportions which had resulted in the loss of life and limb for hundreds. Ivy and the rest of the occupants of the house had been doing their best to pick up the pieces despite great personal hurt. They could be forgiven for overlooking truths on the home front. They were often hardest to see after all.

  “I take it you have an idea how to make my brother see the light?” Ivy followed up.

  “I do. I say we piss him off,” Jazz revealed.

  “Piss him off?” Asked Lark.

  Jazz nodded, “That’s right. When people feel acute emotions, they often act without thinking. It’s his brain getting in the way – not his body.” Jasminka spoke from experience – both professional and personal. It was something she saw all the time as a doctor and something she had witnessed firsthand from Beyden himself just a week ago. When she walked in on Beyden in the shower, he had been braced against the wall but he had also been balancing evenly on both legs. He had been so wrapped
up in the pleasure coursing through his body, he had entirely forgotten that he apparently couldn’t stand on his left leg. Jasminka had no doubt his leg was able to support him, and she was sure that his confidence in himself and his abilities would grow if he could only see proof.

  “And how do you suggest we piss him off? I know Bey is unusually grumpy and depressed, but he’s still Bey. He’s still polite to a fault and losing his temper just isn’t something he does,” Lark pointed out.

  Jazz snorted at that. Beyden had lost his temper with her numerous times over their acquaintance and didn’t she believe Beyden was the soft-hearted saint everyone else seemed to think he was. But she didn’t say so out loud. Instead, she grinned at Ivy, “You’re his sister. Nothing fuels tempers like a healthy dose of sibling rivalry. Or so I’m told.” Having grown up as an only child, Jasminka really had no idea how siblings acted. But she liked to think she and Max were as close as sisters and no one had the ability to piss her off like Max did.

  Ivy searched Jasminka’s face for a moment, a newfound respect entering her eyes before she smiled a little wickedly, “I like your style, doctor. I’m sure I can think of something.”

  “Excellent. Step two; making him feel like he has purpose once again. If I’m not mistaken, you knights pride yourself on your duty and service. Without a roll to fulfil, without a function to serve, your sense of self is undermined. We need to give that back to him.” Jasminka spoke clinically once again.

  “You’re not wrong,” Lark admitted. “Being a paladin is more than just what we are, it’s who we are.”

  “Right ... so ... I think giving him something that relies on him would be beneficial. You know, make him see that he’s not useless and has a lot to offer,” Jazz explained.

  “Something like what?” The enquiry came from both Ivy and Lark at the same time.