Shifter Planet

by D. B. Reynolds

  For her part, she wouldn’t have minded a little hot, sweaty sex. She wasn’t the one who’d spent months in denial. She’d been lusting after him from the first time he’d glowered at her in the forest. In fact, a lot of hot, sweaty sex might make her feel a whole lot better than she did right now, and if he didn’t make the first move soon, she was going to make it for him. She wasn’t some fading flower of Ciudad Vaquero, waiting for the big man to bestow his favors. She intended to have him sooner or later. She caught a glimpse of his powerful and sleek animal in the distance, and smiled grimly at the spike of pure desire that stabbed her belly, and a lot lower down, too. Forget the later part of that equation. They were damn well going to get together sooner.

  Up ahead, Rhodry had stopped to stare back at her, his smooth head swiveling in her direction, the sun behind him making his eyes seem dark and penetrating. She sighed and started walking again before he could rush back to check on her. He’d only insist she needed to rest, and then they’d argue, and it would be even longer before they got where they were going.

  The weather had finally changed for good the day after the ice bear attack. The northern winds had faded in the face of a determined, warm breeze from the Green. To Amanda, it had seemed as if the trees recognized their own in her and Rhodry, and were covering their return back to where they belonged.

  The timing had been perfect. That first day after she woke, he’d bullied her into doing nothing more than sitting and resting inside by the fire, not letting her contribute to any of the necessary chores. Then he’d gathered wood and lit a second fire outside, so she could sit and watch him prepare the bear pelt without getting chilled.

  And what a fine sight that had been. Rhodry stripped to the waist, black braid tied up and out of the way, his lovely skin glistening with sweat in the sun. The muscles in his chest and arms had flexed very nicely as he scraped away the remaining flesh and fat with edged stones before rubbing dirt into the skin as a temporary measure.

  “Dirt?” she’d asked him when he’d begun pouring handfuls of the stuff onto the flattened-out pelt.

  “Taste.” He leaned toward her, holding out a handful.

  Giving him a doubtful look, she wet a finger in her mouth, touched it to the dirt, and then to her tongue. Her gaze was on him as she tasted, his was glued to the path of her finger, from the dirt to her mouth, where it lingered hungrily. She smiled and his eyes flashed up to meet hers. He straightened abruptly and went back to work on the skin.

  “What do you taste?” he asked without looking at her.

  “Salt.”

  “Right. The local soil’s full of it. It’ll keep the skin from drying out too much before we get it back.”

  Amanda scooped up a handful and let it run through her fingers. “Probably a concentration of minerals from the ice,” she commented, mostly to herself.

  “That and the general increase in precipitation,” he agreed. “The mountains where I live are in the same latitude as where we are now. And this close to the ice cap, we get three to four times more rain or snow as down in the city, plus a more direct run off. By the time it gets to the rest of you, most of the minerals have filtered out.”

  She smiled. She forgot sometimes that he just looked like a mountain man, an incredibly sexy mountain man. He’d been educated in a system not all that different from her own, except in the breadth and timeliness of the information.

  “My mother sent me kicking and screaming to university classes,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “I could hardly wait to finish. You were fleet-educated, right? How far did you get?”

  “I have university degrees in xenobiology and chemistry, double major. If I’d stayed, I would have gone on to graduate studies.”

  “You ever miss it? The fleet, I mean.”

  “Never,” she said honestly.

  He stopped what he was doing, sitting back on his heels and looking at her curiously, his chest heaving with the effort of trying to cure a bear pelt with dirt and stones. “Why insist on joining the Guild, though? I mean, there’s no doubt you’re qualified, but…” He gestured with one hand, clearly unable to think of the right words.

  She broke away from admiring his chest to meet his golden stare. “Because the trees know me. This is where I belong, and nothing you do will change that.”

  “I wouldn’t try, acushla,” he said intently. “You can’t still think that.”

  She studied him evenly. “No,” she admitted softly, and then had to look away. It was either that, or jump him right then and there.

  She glanced over and saw him smile before he swiveled around to throw more handfuls of dirt onto the skin. It gave Amanda a nice view of his broad back, not to mention his ass, which even in the loose trousers was well worth mentioning. She shifted her gaze again before he turned around. No need to encourage him.

  “So, tell me,” she said after a while. “Why do you think Cristobal brought you to the city? Why not leave you in the mountains?”

  He shrugged. “Better to know your enemy, I suppose. It’s what I’d do in the same situation. Leave me alone with the clans and for all he knows I’m planning a revolution. So he brings me in, sizes me up, maybe hopes to compel or connive my friendship and loyalty. I could have told him it was unnecessary. He already has my loyalty.”

  “Mmm.” Amanda rubbed the muscles of her damaged thigh lightly beneath the heavy bandage. The bear had left four deep furrows in her leg, tearing into the muscle, and they’d had to bind it tightly to stop the bleeding. She probably could have used a few stitches, if she’d had the stomach to do it herself. Rhodry had never even seen a stitch until the ones she’d sewn into him. When they got back to the city, she’d have to see a real doctor. The last thing she needed was any kind of permanent injury for the Guild to use as an excuse to deny her, even after she passed her trial.

  “Is your leg hurting?” He’d stopped working to eye her in concern.

  She smiled. She wasn’t the only one feeling the heat. He wanted her bad. “Just massaging, Rhodi, keeping it loose. Maybe I’ll take a little walk—”

  He jumped up. “I’ll go with you. Just let me roll this up.”

  “What’s wrong with your leg?”

  Amanda blinked out of her memories and into the present, realizing she’d stopped walking and was rubbing her leg again. Rhodry was back in human form, his expression dark with worry as he came toward her with a long, rolling stride. He tied the loose waist of his pants around his hips, leaving his chest bare. His old shirt, already on its last legs, hadn’t survived his sudden shift during the bear attack, and with the warmer weather, he was comfortable going shirtless. The pants hadn’t fared much better. There was just enough for an illusion of modesty, which he seemed to require around her these days. She covered her grin.

  “My leg’s just a little tired,” she said, answering his question. He was there in an instant, stripping away the backpack with its extra weight of the rolled-up pelt.

  “You should let me bury the damn pelt. I can come back for it. For that matter, you shouldn’t be walking—”

  “I can’t keep stopping all the time,” she said stubbornly. “We’ll never get there. And if you think I’m sleeping one more night on these rocks when I can see the Green from here, then you’re as crazy as… Well, I don’t know what, you’re just crazy, okay?”

  He swung the pack over one shoulder, with an easy gesture that belied its substantial weight, and glared down at her. Feeling wicked, she took a long step closer, until their bodies were very nearly touching. She drew a deep breath, inhaling the unique scent of shifter and Rhodry, the movement causing her breasts to brush lightly against his bare chest. Putting one hand on the smooth skin of his hip just above the cloth of his low-slung pants, she gazed up at him.

  He seemed to stop breathing for a minute. His head came down until their faces were only inches apart, his warm mouth so close… Her stomach clenched in anticipation. And he stepped back, shaking his head as if clearing it
of cobwebs.

  Well, damn.

  “There’s a smooth trail up ahead,” he said, his voice even deeper than usual. He gave a little shudder and continued more evenly. “The rocks pretty much clear out. We’ll make better time after that, and you will sleep beneath the trees tonight, even if I have to carry you there.”

  That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. That’s it. Tonight, your ass is mine.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  He didn’t have to carry her, though it was a close thing. The sun was already beginning its drop over the horizon by the time she registered the fact that her injured leg no longer jarred with fresh pain on every limping step, and the ground no longer consisted of hard dirt and rock. There were trees gathering around her, thick enough that she could see no more than a few yards in any direction and even then it wasn’t a straight path. The last rays of mottled sunlight filtered down through a riot of branches in shades of gray and green, with the occasional splash of pure yellow from the fading sun. Beneath her feet, the forest floor was cool and moist, spongy with decades’ worth of leafy decay and mossy growth, layer after layer building up to form a lush carpet. This close to the edge, it was probably only a few inches, not the several feet of depth that existed in the oldest parts of the Green. It was more than enough to make a huge difference to legs and feet worn out by days of travel through snow and ice followed by the hard scrabble of the Verge.

  And for hearts and souls battered to exhaustion by the cold barrens of that hostile environment, the trees provided their own warm wash of serenity. There was life on the glacier. She knew that. Hell, they’d fought off some of that life to get this far. Compared to the burgeoning vitality of the Green, though, it was an empty place.

  She relaxed step by step as the canopy thickened above her, even though the trees, too, were young by the standards of the deep Green. The truly ancient giants lay far into the forest, in the valleys and on the hillsides, nearly indistinguishable from a distance because of the verdant growth all around them. One had to stand at the feet of such a goliath to appreciate the full majesty of a tree that had been alive long before humans had taken their first fledgling steps into space.

  She limped to a stop at the foot of a comparative youngling—barely a hundred, if that—and leaned against the trunk, her forehead touching the rough bark, her hands stretched out to either side, feeling the creases and grooves beneath her fingers.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Amanda?”

  Rhodry was right next to her, one hand trailing down over the back of her head and along her spine before falling away. He dropped the pack at the foot of the tree, and drew several deep breaths, as if cleansing his lungs of taint. She turned her head to watch him without lifting her forehead from the tree. It scraped her skin softly and she relished the gentle pain.

  “Thank you, Rhodi.”

  He gave her a quizzical smile. “For what?”

  “For putting up with me today, for not making me stop before we got here.”

  His smile gentled. “I wasn’t looking forward to spending another night in dirt any more than you were.”

  “You didn’t have to. You would have been here long ago if not for me.”

  He looked vaguely insulted and opened his mouth to protest. She took advantage of his outrage to push away from the tree and close the distance between them. With a quick move, she reached up and pulled his head down to hers, bringing their mouths together. She’d intended to kiss him hard and fast, more of a challenge than anything else. He called her bluff, his arms coming up to hold her as he deepened the kiss, his tongue circling hers in a sensuous exploration while their bodies melded together so perfectly, so naturally. She sighed as the kiss drifted into a soft, lingering touch of lips.

  They stood that way for several minutes, neither one moving or talking, just holding each other, breath on breath, lips barely touching. She smiled and said softly, “I was planning on jumping your bones tonight.”

  “Was?”

  “I’m not sure I’m capable of jumping anyone right now. Maybe never again.”

  His low laughter joined hers. “I must admit, I had better plans for us than this.”

  “That’s good,” she whispered. “As long as you’ve got plans.”

  He tightened his hold, using the effortless strength of a shifter to lift her off her feet until she could feel the firmness of his erection between her legs. “Definite plans.”

  She made a soft sound of appreciation and raised her legs to circle his hips. He stroked his big hand along her thigh, and stopped what he was doing to frown at her. “Your leg’s hot. The antibiotics aren’t working?”

  “They ran out last night.”

  He spat out a curse. “You never should have wasted any of them on me.”

  She glared up at him “Saving your life was not a waste. Besides—” She pushed away from him to stand alone. “There’s bound to be some coneflower nearby. That’ll hold off the infection until—”

  He reached out, trying to stop her. “Sit down. Let me—”

  “I’ll find it, this is my trial. The last thing I need—”

  “Fine,” he snapped. “Do it your way.” He let go of her and stomped away, quickly disappearing into the deepening shadows.

  “Yeah, well, fine to you too, de Mendoza!” she shouted after him, then sank to the ground, muttering to herself. “I survived out here without you before, you stupid shifter.”

  “I heard that!”

  She glared in his general direction and snapped her hand out in the one-fingered salute that had managed to survive over five hundred years of colonial separation from Earth. His only response was laughter drifting back through the trees.

  Amanda tied off the last corner on the rather primitive lean-to she’d put together using their now sad-looking emergency blanket and some broad, waxy starfern leaves. The sleeping bag, which wasn’t in much better shape, was spread out over the pile of moss that she’d gathered as a sort of mattress, although the forest floor all by itself was heavenly compared to the hard ground they’d been sleeping on for days.

  The shelter wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t supposed to be. It was comfortable enough, and it would keep them dry during the night. She wasn’t worried about rain. It was the other, far less savory things that fell from the trees on Harp. On her own, she’d have zipped the sleeping bag completely closed and skipped the shelter. With the two of them this would work better and, besides, Rhodry wasn’t the only one with plans, even if he was a stupid shifter.

  She already had a fire going, and had found a nearby water source. It was fresh and clean and just enough for her to finally wash away some of the grit and grime, and blood, of the last few days. Something she’d been desperate to do. A change of clothes would have been nice, too. She was pretty sure the dirt was the only thing holding hers together. And she couldn’t help wondering how she smelled to Rhodry’s shifter nose. Probably not good. It hadn’t seemed to put him off before, though, and she was definitely fresher now. She’d even cleaned her teeth using some of the rough-edged piñata fern she’d found growing near the water, as always. Its strong minty flavor should make her definitely more kissable. She grinned at the thought.

  Speak of the devil. She heard him approaching through the underbrush, which meant he was being intentionally noisy for her.

  “What is it about you that brings out the worst in me, Amanda?”

  She felt a little ripple of pleasure, but didn’t acknowledge him, other than to say over her shoulder, “And here I thought I was seeing your good side.” She turned around to find him slouched casually against a nearby tree wearing clean clothes, both shirt and pants, with his soft boots covering his feet. She gave him a quick look up and down and sighed to herself. She’d sort of gotten used to the half-naked look.

  “You found a Guild cache.”

  “I did.” He tossed her a bundle. “Not exactly the right fit. Better than what you have on.”
<
br />   She caught it automatically. “Aren’t you sweet?”

  He laughed. “I can be.” He strolled over, leaned down, and sniffed the cup of hot water she had steeping next to the small fire. “You found some coneflower?”

  “You mean the huge patch right over there? The one you stomped through on your way out, sending up a scent strong enough for even a dull human nose to find? That coneflower?”

  He stood up with a crooked grin and came closer, one hand hidden behind his back.

  She eyed him warily. “What do you have back there?”

  “Something for you.”

  “What?” she asked suspiciously.

  He came closer still, before whipping his hand around to wave a trail bar in front of her face. It was filled with nuts and fruit and was so sticky with honey she could see it gleaming in the faint afternoon light. Eyes wide, mouth watering, she managed through sheer willpower to keep from grabbing it from him. She looked up and met his laughing eyes.

  “What’s your price?”

  “Price? Are you suggesting I’d take advantage of your situation to pry some favor from you in exchange for this trail bar, which by the way I can say from recent experience is quite delicious.” He produced a small leather drawstring bag in his other hand. “There were several.”

  “Rhodi,” she warned.

  He closed the distance between them, circling her waist with one arm and yanking her up against his body. “A kiss, acushla. A sweet for a sweet.”

  “Why would I want to kiss you?”

  “Because you want to jump my bones,” he murmured as he nibbled the skin along her jawline.