A Hero's Bargain

by Forrest, Rayne

  “This will be ready in just a few minutes.”

  He nodded. “So tell me what defense you need. What threatens you?”

  She looked away, staring into the fire as if lost in a memory. Was she going to tell him that she’d changed her mind about confiding in him? Saba looked back at him and began to speak.

  “It began over seven seasons of Wae ago. That is when the errol came.” Her voice cracked on the word. Ryder had never heard the word ‘errol’ and had no reference for it.

  “The errol? What’s the errol?”

  “We do not know what the errol is. None of us has seen it clearly. It’s a creature that roams at night.”

  That wasn’t helpful promising. He wasn’t fond of creatures in the dark. Not even the little fuzzy ones that grew under his bunk when he was feeling too lazy to start the cleaning bots on his ship. Poor Faithe. Well done, trusty servant.

  “All right. Seven seasons of Wae, what is that?” He needed to obtain as much information as he could, but it looked like he was going to have to pull it out of her bit by bit, and he didn’t know if he could stay awake long enough to get the whole story. The pain made him sleepy. It was his escape.

  She looked uncomfortable. “You do not know of Wae?”

  “Perhaps it would be better if you enlightened me. This Wae is a god?”

  “Yes. He is the god of the earth, and the sky, and the water. He is the god of renewal.” She moved to put another log on the fire, speaking while she worked.

  “The season of Wae comes as the earth warms after winter. The sun returns, the forest blooms, and the deer bear their young. We praise Wae for these things.”

  Ryder shivered, recognizing the sensation as a prelude to more pain. He reached for the mug. “Should I drink this now?”

  She nodded quickly. “Yes, you may begin. Sip that slowly. It will take a little while before you feel the effects.”

  He sniffed and tasted the greenish-brown liquid. It wasn’t quite as bad as he’d feared. “Go on with your story, angel.”

  “It was near the beginning of Wae. The earth was still wet. There was a fireball from the heavens. We saw it but were not overly concerned. There had been rain so we did not fear the forest burning. Nevertheless, we went as quickly as we could to where the fireball had landed.”

  “What did you find?”

  “A vessel.”

  His heart pounded. “A vessel? A spaceship?”

  “Spaceship?” She bit her bottom lip. “I do not know what a spaceship is. Is that what you came in?”

  “Yes. It’s a vessel that travels between the stars.”

  That clearly frightened her and she moved away from him.

  “Why does that scare you, angel? What do you know of star flight?”

  She inhaled sharply, but met his gaze. “There are many tales of such things and of worlds beyond our own, but surely they are only fantasies.”

  “I hate to point this out to you, but I’m here and I came on a spaceship.”

  Her voice was a whisper. “Why are you here?”

  “I was stupid. I made a mistake. I didn’t mean to come here.” He gusted out a long breath. “I think I remember my ship…vessel…being destroyed. Is that a true memory?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry but your ship was destroyed. It burned. The fire was too hot for us to salvage anything.”

  He wondered if that was true, but he wasn’t in any position to antagonize her by calling her a liar. He needed another good night’s sleep, if possible, and some food. A bit more rest, a bit more time passing, and maybe the pain would be gone.

  Maybe he’d be able to feel all his body parts.

  “So, seven years ago, give or take, a ship crashed here and this errol has been attacking you ever since? Is that correct?”

  She made a drinking motion with her hand. He rolled his eyes at her and downed the remainder of the contents of the crock. Her eyes widened as they flicked to the empty cup and back up to meet his gaze.

  “That is essentially correct. We do not know why the errol attacks us. We only know many of us have died.”

  “It kills?”

  “Sometimes, but not always.” She looked back into the fire. “It keeps us from hunting and harvesting. Winters have been hard. Many become ill. Food needs to be rationed.”

  She touched his arm lightly. Her hand seemed cold, but he wasn’t sure. His body wasn’t sending the right signals to his brain. The blanket that had seemed soft before now irritated his skin. Whatever the neurological toxin in his system was, it didn’t act like anything he’d ever heard of.

  “During the season of Wae, I should be gathering medicinal plants. I cannot get to them, the errol prevents it. Many have died because of it.”

  She blamed herself for that, he could tell. It was all over her. Her drooping shoulders, the tilt of her head, the waver in her voice. He wished he could reach out to her, but the herbs were already working on him. He was looking at her through a long tunnel. Sleep—and oblivion—promised a blessed respite from the pain.

  “And now you want my weapons to kill the errol?”

  She sat up straight. Her chin lifted. The beautiful dark eyes bore into his.

  “I have an offer, Vaughan Ryder Vaughan. Have you interest?”

  Well, well. He had an offer for her, too, if he could stay awake.

  Chapter 7

  Saba looked at Ryder. He might be lying on the pallet, and be ill, but somehow, he had the upper hand. It was not reassuring. Too late she realized he was probably much more intelligent than she had originally thought.

  “I drank that nasty tea, angel. I drank it just for you. So now are you going to make me your offer?”

  “Perhaps we should let another day pass. Sleep is what you need most. Rest now and I will wake you when I have a meal prepared for you.”

  He laughed. “So you’re going to feed me first? Do you think that will soften me up for this offer you’re going to make me?”

  “That is not my intention, no.” That wasn’t the total truth. He was a man, so she was sure he’d be more agreeable with a contented belly. “I want you to regain your strength. Sleep and food will accomplish that more quickly than anything else I can give you.”

  “You’re afraid of me.”

  Of course, she was. She didn’t have to confirm that by saying anything, though. The man might be injured, and weak, but she didn’t doubt he would find a way for mischief if he truly desired it. Did he?

  “Go to sleep, Ryder. I have things I must do. You are not the only sick person in the village.”

  “You need to run and tell Tyree everything I’ve said to you, don’t you?”

  No, she would not underestimate his intelligence again. “What would you do if you were in my place?”

  He sighed tiredly and closed his eyes. “I’d run and tell Tyree everything.”

  She sat watching him for several minutes. The tension eased out of him. His breathing slowed and leveled, and Saba knew he slept.

  Well, she had not been lying when she said she needed to prepare a meal for him. The stew would be too rich. She needed to start him out on a thickened broth. He would likely complain and she would consider that a good sign he would recover. She grabbed an otatop and began peeling it.

  She would boil the root vegetable until it was very soft then mash it, mixing it with a few ladles of the stew gravy. Then she would take the water it had boiled in, add a few herbs, and thin the mixture to where Ryder could easily sip it. If he kept it down, she might allow him to have a few bites of meat this evening. Once the otatop was in a pan of water sitting on the coals in the hearth, she slipped out the door to check on her other patient.

  Saba found Hallaf sitting in the sun, his leg propped up, carving out the center of a large wooden bowl. He had a talent for such things. Saba checked his wound and found it healing, and to thank her, Hallaf gave her a loaf of bread for her supper. She smiled as he explained he’d received several loaves from the young, unbetrothe
d girls of the village.

  The day was warm but she shivered as she approached her hut, all her questions milling about in her mind. What did they know about this stranger in their midst, really? Who was he? Why had he come?

  He spoke their language, albeit with an unusual accent. That in itself was alarming. He was as male as any of the Ramalho. The only difference she’d noted as she’d washed his manhood was the lack of the protective cowl of a Ramalho male.

  Her checks warmed at the memory. She seen many of the adult men in varying amounts of nudity as she’d tended wounds and that small bit of foreskin was all Ryder lacked. If he took her up on her offer, she might have opportunity to question him on it. If he healed.

  A Ramalho male would have had some response to her bathing of him. Ryder had been completely devoid of even the automatic response she had come to expect from males.

  So many ‘ifs’. If he’d even agree to help them. If he wouldn’t aid them in killing the errol, they would all eventually perish, Ryder among them.

  She didn’t want to perish without knowing him. She’d never been so interested in the physical before. Better she figure out a way to set that aside until he was stronger.

  Better she set it aside until she knew he had some interest of his own.

  She slipped into the quiet of her hut. The day grew warm, and she wouldn’t need to put any additional logs on the fire until evening. If Ryder felt chilled, she’d give him another blanket.

  The otatop was cooked so she busied herself preparing it for Ryder’s meal. She sliced off the end of the bread. Perhaps a small amount wouldn’t hurt him. He was a large man. He needed the nourishment to heal.

  She looked down at his full mouth as he slept. The split in his lower lip already showed signs of healing without a scar. His nose was straight, so he was not a brawler. Had he been, his nose would certainly have been broken and sported, at the very least, a small bump. His eyes were deep set under slightly arched brows. His cheekbones were strong. The cuts and scrapes he’d received in the crash were shallow and would heal without marking him.

  His was a handsome face.

  “Do I pass inspection?”

  Saba jumped back, knocking over her stool again. Ryder chuckled softly.

  “You should open your eyes when you’re awake. If I were the suspicious sort, I’d think you were trying to spy on me.”

  Her patient grinned. Those blue eyes popped open. Yes, she’d been correct in thinking the man was possessed of a fun-loving nature. Either that or he used his sense of humor to disarm his opponents. He sniffed the air.

  “The only thing I want to spy is food. You promised, angel, so feed me and then let me hear your offer. Don’t let me die hungry.”

  She dipped a small cloth into the basin of scented water and wrung it out. She held out the cloth to him, reluctant to touch him herself.

  Touching him, even to just treat the abrasions on his face, was suddenly too intimate. “Wipe your face. Be careful, though. This will sting.”

  “Ah, I remember.” He made no move to take the cloth from her. She cocked an eyebrow at him, a silent question.

  “Don’t make me move just yet. As long as I’m still, there’s no pain.”

  She bit the inside of her lip and pushed away her disquiet. He was her patient—now. The future had not yet been decided. She touched his hand.

  “Make a fist.”

  The long, strong fingers curled tightly.

  “Do you have any pain?”

  He shook his head, the slightest movement. She pointed at his other hand. He fisted it. She laid her hand in the bend of his elbow. “Raise your arm from here.”

  He slowly complied, lifting first one arm, then the other. She steeled herself against the knowledge of his pain and tapped his shoulder.

  “Now from here.”

  His eyes closed. He inhaled, drawing in a long, careful breath, then slowly raised his arm from the shoulder. Just as carefully, he let his arm come back down to rest. He repeated the motion on his other side.

  “Have you pain?” she asked softly. He shook his head again.

  “No. But I didn’t jiggle my back around.”

  Jiggle? He must mean that he hadn’t moved the root nerve along his spine. That made perfect sense, given her observations of him. She folded the blanket and draped it across the foot of her bed.

  “Let’s get this beneath you. Then you may have food.” She slipped an arm beneath his shoulders, helping him ease up. His face rolled against her breasts. He drew in a deep breath. She almost jerked away. Once he was propped up, she dared to look at him.

  His face was inscrutable. Too much so. She handed him the mug of thickened broth.

  She should have poured it over his head for making her breasts feel so strangely. Her nipples tingled and itched. It was all she could do to keep her hands from rubbing them. The only thing that stopped her was the conviction he’d get some sort of perverse pleasure from the action.

  “You wouldn’t deprive a dying man succor, would you, angel?”

  Succor, was it? She glared down at him.

  “You are not dying. I’m on to your games now and you won’t be able to do that again.”

  He laughed, a wicked, low sound that shivered across her nerves and teased her woman’s flesh to a tingling awareness of him. He took a cautious sip from the mug. Then another.

  He drank it in rapid little sips as she watched. He had no difficulty swallowing and it appeared his stomach was not at all unsettled.

  “Would you like a slice of bread?”

  His gaze flicked up to hers. “You’ve been holding out on me? Shame on you, angel.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?” she snapped at him.

  He grinned. “Yes. I’d like a slice of bread.” He held the cup out to her. “Is there more of this?”

  She snatched the mug from his hand and refilled it. “This is all there is for now. Would you like rettub on your bread?”

  “Sure. Whatever that is.” He accepted the mug and began sipping again, slower this time. She handed him the bread and he dipped it into the liquid and took a bite. He repeated the action until the bread was gone.

  “This is manna. Thank you. And thanks for rescuing me. I don’t know if I’ve told you that or not.”

  “You did, but you do not have to thank us. Are you experiencing any discomfort?”

  He shook his head and lifted the mug to his lips, draining its contents. “I can’t say as there’s any pain at all right now. I’d like to stay still and keep it that way.”

  “I’m sure you would. But I should bathe you again.” She could get another look at his maleness. She was the healer, after all, and needed to have knowledge of many things.

  “Oh, I think not. Call one of your minions for that. Get Tyree in here.”

  “Tyree has more important things to do and I need to see how your wounds are healing. Some may need another application of salve.”

  He gave her a calculating look. She refused to flinch.

  “Angel, Tyree has nothing more important than a stranger in his village. Trust me on this one.”

  “Tyree will ask for your weapons.”

  “Tyree doesn’t know I have weapons unless you told him. Did you?”

  She couldn’t lie. Her face would give her away. “No. I did not tell him. Not yet.”

  “Why not? You should have.”

  He was right and she knew it.

  “Tyree may be the headman of the village but he doesn’t know how to work your weapons. I would not have him examining them and injuring himself or others. You will show him your weapons in due time.”

  He looked pleased she’d thought it through that far, his eyes lighting with amused respect. “You seem awfully sure of that. My weapons don’t belong here. I can’t let Tyree have them.”

  She plucked the empty mug from his fingers and busied herself washing it. She had her opening. She couldn’t lose her nerve now. It was their only hope. She dried the mug and s
et it up on the shelf then turned back to Ryder.

  “We need your weapons, and your help. If you agree to use your weapons to destroy the errol, we’ll pay you.”

  His eyebrows shot up. His eyes darkened.

  “Pay me, will you? With what? A ship so I can get back to my life? Tell me you have one. Lie to me, Saba.”

  He had every right to be bitter over his circumstances. She understood, but his acerbic tone shocked her. She hadn’t considered anger. Anger could make him dangerous in ways nothing else would. Nonetheless, her mind was made up. It was her decision, be it folly or not.

  “No. The coin I would pay you with is my body.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

  “I will come to your bed when you are well enough.”

  He sat up, swinging his legs off the pallet and onto the floor. She jumped away from him, startled. Just as quickly her concern for her patient moved her back to his side.

  “Do not! You should be still.”

  Quick as lightning he grabbed her and pulled her to him. His chest was like a rock.

  “Let me go!”

  “I don’t think so, angel.” His arms tightened around her. His lips thinned into an angry line.

  “So you’d come to my bed, would you? For what? What do you think I could do with you in my current condition, hmm? Pat you on the ass and tell you to sleep well?” His lips curled, snarling.

  “Offer something better, Saba. Offer me my manhood back. Then come to my bed!” He released her so abruptly, she almost fell. She plopped down on the stool. He grimaced, his face tightening with pain.

  “You will heal but it will take time,” she said, far more calmly than she felt.

  He hissed, pressing his hands to his stomach. Alarmed, she jumped up. Quick as a snake, he had her again, one hand fisting in her hair, trapping her.

  “Heal me, then.”

  His mouth came down on hers with bruising force. She pushed against him but he was too strong. His tongue swept over her lips and suddenly, escaping him wasn’t important. Deep in her belly her womb contracted. Need, hot and sweet, throbbed with each beat of her racing heart.