Her eyes fluttered open, and Timon saw them spark with surprise. “How did you...” She clamped her lips together. “You couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t what, Jamie?”
She fell silent. The sun had grown warm, but suddenly Jamie was shivering. Timon fetched a blanket and tucked her under it.
“No more talk,” he said. “While you sleep, I’ll keep watch.”
“I’m sorry,” she sighed.
“No,” he said, taking her hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She began to shake her head, exhaled slowly and drifted into sleep.
Timon held her hand a little longer, amazed by its delicacy and softness. It wouldn’t be so soft at the end of their journey. Inevitably, she would lose whatever innocence she still had left. But her second capture, so soon after the first, had been a brutal way for her to experience the outside world.
He had lost his innocence much earlier, when he’d been kidnapped as a child by a power-hungry warlord. But even before that, growing up in a mixed human and Opir colony, he’d known how much danger lay beyond the seeming safety of the colony’s walls.
But he would regret the hard lessons Jamie had yet to learn. He knew he couldn’t afford to allow his personal feelings to get in the way, and yet he felt that if he could have kept Jamie in a bubble, protected from all unpleasantness, he would have done it.
He berated himself for his weakness. He couldn’t allow himself to get emotionally involved. He could still take her back to the Enclave.
And she would resist him every step of the way. Fear wouldn’t stop her from forging ahead, even though she had only one Rider to protect her.
A Rider who had ulterior motives. Even though he’d already come to hate the idea of manipulating her into giving up information he now had reason to expect she possessed.
This was the time to learn it. When she was vulnerable and dependent on him. When she had begun to trust him.
Rising quickly, Timon walked to the top of the hill. The grass in the valley rippled like water. It was very peaceful.
Timon’s heart was not at peace. He had the overwhelming conviction that it never would be again.
* * *
Jamie woke at dawn. Timon had built a small fire, sheltered from view by the hills. He crouched beside it, the planes of his face carved of shadow and firelight, his big hands dangling between his knees.
Instinctively, Jamie felt her thigh. The pill had done some good, but the wound throbbed constantly, and her wrist wasn’t much better. She felt weak and useless, worth no more than Timon’s pity.
She watched Timon as he rummaged through his saddlebags. He wore a homespun shirt and pants with leather insets tucked into his boots, and even from a distance she could tell that the odor of his “disguise” was gone. Each of his movements was efficient and smooth, well-developed muscle working harmoniously and with no extraneous mannerisms.
Had he moved the same way when he’d fought for her in the tribesmen’s camp, with such ease and grace? He’d overcome her captor, gotten her away, treated her injuries. She was completely dependent on him and his considerable skill.
Her face felt flushed, and she touched her cheeks. They were warm...with embarrassment, she thought. No matter how many times he told her she wasn’t at fault.
“You’re awake,” he said, turning as he spoke. He smiled, and the strong lines of his face relaxed. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes,” she said, though she wasn’t sure it was really true. Her stomach grumbled loudly enough for him to hear, and she winced. “Thanks to you.”
“You’ve already thanked me,” he said. He laid his hand on her forehead, frowned and touched her cheek. There was nothing detached about that second touch. It was almost a caress.
She started in spite of herself. “No sign of the raiders?” she said, her lip cracking open as she spoke the last word.
Timon got up and returned with a small piece of gauze. He dabbed at her lip. “Nothing,” he said. “They’d expect us to be long gone by now.”
“We should be,” she said, making an effort to rise. “We can’t stay here.”
His violet-gray eyes gazed into hers with a calm wisdom that made her feel self-conscious all over again. “We’ll only move when you’re up to it,” he said, “and that won’t be today.”
Rising again, Timon fetched a tin plate filled with a kind of gruel and a strip of dried meat. “I’m sorry this is all I have to offer,” he said. “But I was only able to bring my own packs with me, and I haven’t had the chance to hunt. Do you think you can eat?”
Jamie nodded, her gut rebelling at the sight of the gruel. She let Timon feed her, though she began to resent every spoonful that went into her mouth.
“I still have one hand,” she protested.
“I don’t want you moving around any more than you have to.”
“There are some things you can’t help me with.”
He grinned, showing his pointed cuspids. “I’ve lived most of my life on the move. Do you think something like that would bother me?”
“You only travel with men,” she said.
“But I’ve known plenty of women,” he said, an almost mischievous light glittering in his eyes. “Biology is biology. If you think you can manage it, I’ll help you get up.”
“You just said you didn’t want me to move!”
All at once he was serious again. “I would rather you didn’t.”
With a feeling of queasiness, she imagined him cleaning up after her. That was out of the question. “Help me get over to the tree,” she said. He half carried her to the tree and gave her a small measure of privacy, though she knew he was alert to the possibility of a fall. She was very careful not to fall.
Then he was easing her to the blanket again, laying her down with exquisite care, with something so much like tenderness that she almost didn’t feel the increased pain as her arm and leg touched the ground.
“I’ll give you another pill,” he said, adjusting her head into a more comfortable position.
“I don’t need one,” she said with greater asperity than she’d intended.
“You kept insisting that you’re a coward who can’t stand pain.”
“I am,” she said, meeting his gaze.
He laughed softly. “Don’t ever suggest such foolish things again.”
“What—”
“That you aren’t one of the most courageous women I’ve ever known.”
“And you said you’ve known plenty.”
She didn’t know what had gotten into her. God knew she didn’t want to hear the real answer.
“Do you want the details?” he asked, his eyes dancing.
Eager to change the subject, Jamie closed her eyes. “How soon will I be well enough to travel, so that we can catch up with the others? They can’t be too far ahead.”
“We have to make sure that the arm sets properly and the leg wound remains clean and healing. We’ll find a more permanent camp, and stay there for a couple of weeks.”
“What?”
“You need plenty of time to heal.”
She began to sit up, but Timon was already pressing her down again. “That’s too long!”
“Because you’re anxious to rejoin your friends?” he asked. “Or is it the fact that you’ll be alone with me?”
His bluntness surprised her, and she felt an unfamiliar heat swelling in her belly. “I’m not afraid of anything, remember?” she said.
“Good. Because the last thing I want is for you to have doubts about me.” He leaned over her, a quiet ferocity in his voice. “I won’t let anything else happen to you. All you have to do is trust me.”
The emotions in his eyes were far too complex for her to read. She turned her head away.<
br />
“I do trust you,” she said. “I don’t have any choice.”
His sigh told her it wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear. “If that’s true,” he said, “I can suggest a way that might allow us to move a little faster.”
She turned her head toward him again. “What?”
“It may not work. But there’s a chance, Jamie.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “All Opiri have a component in their saliva that can heal human wounds. Usually those are the small wounds that come with a bite. But sometimes...” He leaned closer, the subtle colors shifting in his eyes. “I’m only half-Opir. But some of us inherit the healing ability. If I bite you, I may be able to hasten your healing more efficiently than any antibiotic.”
Her stomach began to roil with alarm. “Bite me?” she said.
“It’s the only way to get the healing component into your bloodstream.”
All at once his face changed, became that of a monster, eager to drain her dry. “No,” she whispered. “Get away from me.”
Chapter 8
Jamie flinched away as Timon jerked back. “Jamie?” he said. “What’s wrong?”
All at once his face seemed to shift back to normal—though deeply concerned, uncertain, confused.
“You want to take my blood,” Jamie said, anger rushing in to replace horror.
“Take your blood?” Timon backed away and crouched again, studying her face intently. “I didn’t say that, Jamie.”
“That was part of the bargain, wasn’t it? Your Riders’ escort for our blood to feed you along the way?”
“What happened when the first raiders took you? Did one of them hurt you?”
She couldn’t answer. Though she knew he only wanted to help, the memories had been in her thoughts since the first raiders had captured the delegation. She looked at Timon’s face now, and all she could imagine were his sharp, tearing teeth, the feel of them sinking into her flesh.
“Don’t worry,” Timon said, holding up his hands. “I won’t touch you, Jamie. Not without your permission.”
“Please, leave me alone.”
Timon got to his feet and gazed down at her, his mouth pinched. “I’m going to leave you here for a short time,” he said, “and look for a better camp, farther off the main track. Is that all right with you?”
Oak leaves overhead shifted with the breeze, letting through a beam of sunlight. Sunlight the real bloodsuckers couldn’t tolerate.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, avoiding Timon’s eyes.
“Don’t try to move. Rest as best you can.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He hesitated, released his breath, and went to fetch Lazarus.
For a while, Jamie did nothing but listen tensely to every sound in her little haven: the slight rustle of fresh green grass just outside the circle of shade, the twitter of a bird, the chirp of an insect. There was no man-made sound anywhere within the range of her hearing, but she fought sleep as long as she could.
Then the dreams came. Timon was carrying her off, taking her away from her people just like the tribesman, his arm clamped around her waist and his expression grimly satisfied. He had claimed her for his own. He would brand her as his, with his body and teeth and his will, and no matter how hard she fought—
She didn’t want to fight. God help her; she would give in to everything, anything he wanted. Fear was gone. The barriers of pride and modesty and obligation had fallen under Lazarus’s pounding hooves.
“Jamie.”
Her eyes flew open. She thrust out her good arm as if to fend Timon off and draw him closer at the same time.
He caught her hand between his. She felt the roughness of his palm, the gentle clasp of his long fingers.
“Easy,” he said. “You must have been dreaming.”
Her entire body went hot. “I...”
After laying her hand on her chest, he let go and stepped back. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She caught her breath, glad he couldn’t actually read her mind. “Did you have any luck?” she asked.
“I found a good place for us deeper in the hills, with more trees and water nearby.”
“Can we get there before sundown?”
“If you’re up to it.”
“Let’s go,” she said.
“I’ll have to touch you, Jamie.”
Heat rushed into her face. “I...didn’t know what I was saying before. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You must have good reason.”
It had happened eighteen years ago, Jamie thought, and she should have been over it. To confuse Timon with him...
Irrational, she thought.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m all right.”
She was very careful not to cry out when Timon lifted her into the saddle. Timon watched her face with acute concern, but she thought she managed to fool him. He kept Lazarus at a walk, and even the horse seemed to understand what Timon was trying to do; Lazarus avoided rocks and furrows with precise footwork that amazed her.
They reached the new encampment by midafternoon. Timon carried her to a large oak and positioned her with her back to the trunk, almost as if he knew that she couldn’t bear another moment flat on her back. He arranged the remaining equipment nearby, unsaddled Lazarus and then offered her water. She was far thirstier than she remembered having been before and exhausted by the relatively brief ride.
But she said nothing of it. She was grateful when Timon checked her dressings and seemed satisfied. His lean and muscular body relaxed as if he felt more at ease in their new location.
“Tell me about your life in the Enclave,” he said.
Startled by the abrupt question, Jamie looked at him. His profile gave nothing away, but she knew he didn’t mean to make idle conversation. He was still looking for reasons for her strange behavior, and he wouldn’t give up unless she distracted him with other topics.
“What do you want to know?” she asked cautiously.
“About your childhood. Your parents. What you were like when you were younger. What you dreamed of doing and becoming.”
“My whole life story,” she said, trying to laugh. “Believe me—it isn’t very interesting. My mother was a biologist—a geneticist—and my father was a physician. They met while doing similar research at the Enclave Medical Center.”
“What kind of research?”
“They never really talked about it. I know they were both interested in recovering the lost pre-War treatments for diseases humanity once thought were wiped out.”
“And you carried on in their footsteps.”
“I grew up around scientists,” she said. “I only went to school until I was ten, and after that my father homeschooled me.”
“You didn’t have many friends.”
It was a statement rather than a question, and Jamie winced. “There weren’t many young people my age helping their parents in a lab,” she said.
“You were lonely.”
“I was too busy to be lonely,” she said, irritated at his presumption. “My parents didn’t deprive me of anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“But you had at least one friend. Greg Cahill.”
She wasn’t about to fall into that trap again. “My parents’ closest friends were my godfather and Greg’s parents,” she said. “He always had ambitions to go into politics, and he was very successful.”
“So it seems.” Timon shifted his weight. “How does he feel about the Conclave?”
“He supports it, of course!”
“And you’ve dedicated yourself to it, even though you’ve never had to deal with Opiri.”
“My parents advocated for a new peace for many years. My mother spoke of it often, and wrote about it i
n the journal she left me.”
“But you didn’t grow up with open war. At worst, Opiri and humans have lived in a state of cold war for most of your life.”
“The Citadels stopped claiming serfs from our Enclave five year ago.”
“And that’s why you think the Conclave can succeed.”
“I know that not all Opiri are barbarians.”
“In spite of your lack of experience?”
She wished she could stand up and pace away her anger. “Why are you asking these questions? Have we given you any reason to doubt our commitment?”
“I’d heard rumors that the San Francisco Enclave had reservations about this new effort.”
“That’s outrageous,” she said, far more calmly than she felt. “You supposedly have no interest in the outcome of the Conclave. Is this some part of your job, to test how devoted we are to the Conclave’s goals?”
His head came up sharply. “I only want to know more about you.”
The intensity of his gaze made her feel dizzy and uncertain. “I told you,” she said. “There isn’t much to tell.”
“I think you underestimate yourself,” Timon said. “What did you do when you weren’t in the lab? Did Greg take you out to dinner in one of your restaurants, or to walk by the Bay?”
Back to Greg again, she thought.
“You said you’d never been to San Francisco,” she said, changing the subject.
“I did my research.” He looked away. “Did you ever have fun, Jamie?”
“Of course I did. My parents were very cultured. My mother...” She swallowed. “Eileen saw the joy in everything, in every part of the world she saw in the lab or outside it. She died before my father, when I was still a child. He never told me how it happened, and he died when I was sixteen.”
“I’m sorry. It must have been difficult to lose both your parents when you were young.”
“And you...did you have a family, Timon?”
“I was born in freedom, outside the Citadel,” he said. “My mother also died when I was very young.”
“I’m sorry. Is your father—”
Twilight Crossing Page 6
