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Even then he’d simply been delighted that he’d given her pleasure. He’d been smiling as he left her to sleep. It wasn’t until he was halfway through cleaning the fish, his knife sliding through the flesh with practiced ease that the memory of why they were really there had returned. This wasn’t a relationship - couldn’t be a relationship. As soon as he gathered the information that Marshall had requested, they would part ways.
Even though he intended to give her twice what he’d originally promised, he suspected that the knowledge that he’d lied to her would sour any possibility of a future between them. Not that there was any chance of that anyway. She deserved far more than a cynical, ruthless mercenary, no matter how much his chest ached at the thought of leaving her on her own.
He decided that taking their interactions any further than kissing would be a mistake. They should probably stop kissing as well, but he’d been unable to resist when she raised her face for a good night kiss. Unfortunately, his body had strongly disagreed with his decision to limit their interactions, and his codix had been pushing painfully against his slit ever since the previous afternoon.
But he couldn’t let his frustration scare her. He forced himself to take a deep breath, then almost groaned as her sweet scent washed over him, heightened by her soaked condition.
“If you remain in those wet clothes, you’ll catch a chill,” he said, doing his best to speak calmly. “You need to get out of them as quickly as possible.”
As soon as she nodded, he began stripping as well, removing his shirt and pants and slinging them over one of the benches to dry before turning to the small stove.
“I’ll put the stove on. That will help warm you and make our clothes dry more -”
He broke off as he turned to face her and saw her staring at him. She’d removed her shirt, but she was still holding the wet garment in front of another of those pretty camisoles.
“Finish removing your clothing, Lottie.”
She nodded, but she was still staring at him. He followed her gaze and swore when he realized the ruffled edges of his slit had started to unfurl. Fortunately, his codix had yet to emerge.
“It’s just a physical reaction,” he said gruffly, turning away so he could press the edges back together before gathering some towels.
“Here.”
This time he was the one to stare. He’d swung back around just as she pulled the camisole over her head, her small, perfect breasts fully visible to him for the first time. Her hard little nipples tightened even further under his avid gaze, flushing a deeper pink.
Frek, she was beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to bend her back over his arm and feast on those tempting little peaks with nothing between her skin and his mouth this time. He even took a half-step towards her before he came to his senses. To his shock, she didn’t flinch away from him. Instead she let the wet camisole flutter to the floor, an unreadable expression on her face.
Gods, he wanted to touch her. Instead, he reached out and wrapped a towel around her, doing his best not to let his hands linger on that cool, silky skin.
“Rub yourself down with the towel. It will help warm you up.”
She nodded, but instead she picked up Raja and gently dried him off as he chittered happily.
“I said dry yourself, not the rodent,” he growled, but she only shrugged, her small, bare shoulder moving gracefully above the towel.
“It was cold and scary for him too. It will make him feel better.”
Once the kedji was thoroughly dried, she reached under her towel and slipped off her pants and underwear. The knowledge that she was now naked beneath the towel made it even harder to control his codix but he managed to keep his face expressionless as he handed her another towel.
“Once you’re dry, put on something warm.”
“You’re being awfully bossy today,” she murmured, giving him another one of those inscrutable looks.
Before he could respond, a bolt of lightning struck close to the ravine, making the entire interior of the wagon flare white as a deafening crack of thunder crashed against his ears. Raja squealed and dove under a pillow.
“Oh poor baby!” Her sympathetic smile immediately vanished as she looked at his face. “Celenk, what’s wrong?”
He couldn’t move. Part of him knew he was safe inside the wagon, but the cries of wounded warriors filled his head and the stench of death clung to him.
“It’s all right. You’re safe now.”
Soft arms wrapped around his waist and he shuddered, then clung to her, burying his face against her hair and filling his lungs with her sweet scent, letting it chase away the memories. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, her hands gently stroking his back as he tried to pull his shields back in place, but he finally took a last deep breath and straightened. He was almost afraid to look at her face, but there was no judgment there, no disgust at his weakness.
“I don’t like storms either,” she said quietly and he almost took the excuse, but then he shook his head.
“It’s not really the storm. It’s what the storm reminds of - war and pain and death.”
“I understand. I know it doesn’t begin to compare to what you’ve been through, but every time I smell antiseptic I’m back in my grandfather’s room, watching him die.”
