by Devon Monk
Still, he reached down and lifted Rose, blankets and all, into his arms as carefully as he could.
She wrapped her good arm around his neck and moaned softly against the pain of movement.
At that sound he instantly stilled. “Are you sure? I could set you back in your bed.”
“No,” she said. “I’m fine. Please.”
He started across the floor. To his great surprise no one stirred. The wolf at the door even let him pass by.
Maybe luck was slipping this one his way.
“How about we go catch us a bit of sky, Rose Small?” he asked as he made his way down the corridor that led to the flat rock just before the landing pads.
“You don’t know how happy that would make me,” Rose said, her voice breathy on a whisper.
Hink smiled, but didn’t say any more for fear of tripping over his words. He liked the idea of making her happy. More than liked the feel of her in his arms.
And for the moment, for the first time in a whole lot of years, there was nothing more important to him than seeing that Rose Small got what she wanted.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cedar Hunt watched as Captain Hink walked out of the room carrying Rose. He had heard everything they said. He didn’t know why Rose was so set on asking Hink for help. She was sick and hurting. He didn’t want Hink to hurt her more.
He sat up.
To find Mae also sitting. She was looking at him.
Cedar walked over to her, careful to move quietly so as not to wake the others.
“I’ll see that he brings her back,” Cedar said.
“No,” Mae said.
“No?”
Mae wrapped a blanket around her shoulders but didn’t bother putting on her shoes. She stood and started walking off, catching his hand and drawing him with her through the room and out a ways down the hall.
Hink was already well out of sight, and even Cedar’s keen hearing didn’t bring to him the sound of his footsteps or voice.
“He’s taking her outside,” Cedar said. “I’ll just follow and see that she comes right back in.”
“I don’t think she’d want you to do that, Cedar.”
“Doesn’t matter what she wants. She’s sick. She needs someone to look after her. This isn’t the kind of place to just let her wander off with a man, alone.”
“She wants to be with him,” Mae said. She pulled the blanket around her a little tighter, then leaned against the wall. “She knows she’s dying.”
“She’s not going to die,” Cedar practically growled.
Mae gave him a long, cool look, as if gauging the heat on a pot. “She knows there is a strong possibility her wound is fatal,” she said. “You can’t deny the truth of that. Rose isn’t a dreamy-eyed girl. She has a very practical streak about her. I think we should let her have this.”
“Have what? A stranger we barely know carting her off in the middle of the night when she’s sick and helpless? I know the sorts of things a man like him can do.”
“Cedar—,” Mae started.
“She’s dear to me, Mae,” he interrupted. “Both of you are…dear. I won’t let her catch harm.”
“It’s not harm she’s looking for. It’s companionship.” Mae tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “She just wants, for once in her life, to know the touch of a man.”
“She’s wounded.”
“She’s dying.”
Cedar held very still. He heard what Mae was saying, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her bare neck, off the delicate curve of her lips, the flutter of her eyelids as she sighed.
His blood rushed hot under his skin and he could feel the heat tightening his muscles. He wanted her, wanted Mae. Not just the man in him, but the beast too.
Deep within, the beast turned, pressing to be released. Pressing to be with Mae, to taste her. To claim her.
Cedar jerked his head back and stepped away until his spine scraped against the other side of the hall. He pulled his arms to his side, each hand in a fist. His heart was pounding too hard, and it was all he could do to keep his breathing calm.
“It’s against my better judgment,” he said huskily.
Mae smiled just slightly, her eyes still shut. “Mine too, Mr. Hunt. But these are dire times. And we all must do that which we can to find our happiness among the ruins.” She opened her eyes. Studied him.
Cedar couldn’t know how she saw him. Maybe his anger. Maybe his desire. He tried his best to calm himself, to calm the needs clashing within him.
Mae’s expression shifted from amused to puzzled. Then her eyebrows slipped up. “Oh,” she said.
“Mae—” He took a step, his hand out. To explain. To make an excuse for his thoughts. To tell her he understood her husband had just set to the grave and she needed time. Time to grieve. Maybe to tell her he would wait. Forever for her, if need be.
But she did not move. Just held his gaze as if she could see right through the whole of him, as if she could see his soul.
And did not find it lacking.
So he took a step closer. Still she did not move. Did not say a word. Did not look away.
She was breathing a little more rapidly. He could almost feel the beat of her pulse thudding beneath her smooth, pale skin as if it were his own. He wanted to run his fingers along the curves of her body, wanted to taste her, bury himself in her heat.
He took another step. And then he spread one palm against the wall behind her, needing the cold, rough rock to remind him this wasn’t a dream. Wasn’t a promise for anything more than this.
And this was simply now.
“Mae,” he said again. He stood so tight to her, she had to tip her face up to meet his eyes. If either of them moved just an inch, they would be touching. He held himself steady, straining to give her even that much space. “If you say no…”
She shook her head. Then, quietly. “I’m not saying no.”
Cedar leaned down and slipped his hand around her waist so that he could draw her the last fraction of distance toward him.
Even through the layers of her day dress and wrapped in a blanket, she was soft, warm, supple in his arms. He pulled her up closer against his chest, hips, thighs. She melted there, as if savoring, hungering for the sudden, needful contact.
Cedar did not remove his palm from the wall. He didn’t dare chance it. For if he did, he would gather her up, and take her away. To a land of his choice, a place where he could guard her, keep her, love her.
The beast in his mind keened for that freedom.
But Cedar was not about to let the beast, his curse, have any sway over his thoughts, his body, his desires. Mae, for this single moment, was his. He wouldn’t let anything take this moment away from him.
He lowered his head, heard her breath hitch in her chest, then tasted the sweet tea and honey of her exhale on his lips.
With more gentleness than he thought he could contain, he brushed his lips across hers, wanting more, so much more, and telling himself that this brief touch, this trembling knowledge between them, might be all they would ever share. All she was willing to give him.
The tiniest sound escaped her throat, and her lips softened, opened, welcoming him into her warmth.
Cedar shifted his attention to her mouth and slid his tongue to stroke slowly along hers. Fire licked his belly, tightening him with need.
It had been years since he had kissed a woman. Years since he had touched a woman. Years since he had cared. So long, he had been sure he would never love again.
Mae’s hands dragged without hesitation along his ribs, then up his back, where she clutched the fabric of his shirt in her fists.
She gave herself to the kiss, to him. Her lips, her tongue, urged him to explore. And offered him pleasure in return.
Cedar gave to her willingly.
He would give her so much more. Anything she asked for.
But soon, far too soon, Mae placed one hand on his chest and pressed there. He knew he had to let her go
. Had to break this kiss.
Their only kiss.
With one last lingering touch, Cedar reluctantly drew his mouth away from hers.
She was on tiptoe, one hand still tucked up behind his back, the blanket around her held in place only by his arm across her back. There was no light in the hall. But Cedar didn’t need light. He would know her, see her even if he were a blind man.
“I think,” she breathed, her hand on his back still holding strong as if she wished she would never have to let go, even as her palm on his chest pushed him away. “We need time. Some. Time. When my mind is clear. When I’m myself again. After the sisters’ call is gone. Then.”
She was searching for understanding in his eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips wet and swollen. He knew he needed to put her on her feet. Needed to let her free.
It was the last thing he wanted to do.
Mate, the beast within him whispered.
The truth of it resonated through him.
Cedar closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her one last time. And then he carefully set her back on her feet. Once he knew she was stable, he pulled his arm away. Lastly, he drew his palm away from the stone wall, and stood there, too empty for the world full of wants that warred inside him.
Mae straightened her dress, straightened the blanket around her, not looking at him.
He could not look away from her.
He thought she’d walk back to her bunk. That this was done.
But instead, she reached out and touched his hand that was loosely fisted at his side.
“It’s been a long road,” she said, “and it will be longer still ahead of us. I don’t want to walk it without you. Don’t want to arrive at the end and find you gone.”
“You won’t,” he said simply.
Mate.
Mae nodded, then headed back to the sleeping area, leaving Cedar in the cool echo of the hallway, alone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rose loved the feel of the wind on her face, loved even more the heat and strength of Captain Hink’s arms around her.
He had paused just outside the blind of rocks that hid the doorways to the caverns from the open landing area.
It was dark out, but not raining. In the shift of clouds over the deep ink sky, she could make out two ships crouched on the landing flats. The larger ship was a hulking silhouette that looked like a wooden frigate, the inflatable envelope above it lashed by lines to the ship’s hull below. There were no long, spindly trawling arms sticking off it. Instead, alongside the bottom of the hull were long, wide sleds that looked a little like extra large canoes attached to the vessel.
In comparison to that ship, the Swift looked tiny.
It was the first time Rose had really seen her from the outside. Built lean and narrow like a bullet, she was a smooth gray ghost with her pointed nose tipped ever so slightly up, as if she were yearning for the sky. The horizontal sails on her side, which were tucked in tight now, made her look even more like the bird she was named after. The only thing to spoil that look was the glim trawling arms extending straight up along her sides, the netting clicking and clacking as it rattled against the metal arms.
“There she is,” Captain Hink said. “My everything.”
“She’s beautiful,” Rose whispered with a sigh.
“She is. And fast. And strong.”
“Can we go to her? Go aboard?” Rose asked.
“You sure I haven’t worn you out yet?” he asked.
“No. Not at all. I’d love to see her. While I’m awake.”
“Well, then, welcome aboard, m’lady.” Captain Hink strode toward the Swift, every step jostling Rose and making her shoulder ache. But even though she hurt, the closer they came to that ship, the more her spirit lifted, the more she felt alive and happy.
“How long have you had her?” Rose asked.
“Oh, near three years now. Bought her from a pilot named Charity Senders. Her husband and she had built the Swift themselves. He had the deviser knack. The boilers, for one thing, are brilliance. Small, powerful. And making her out of tin skin keeps her light and tough. Not a single other ship out there like her. No place in this world.”
Rose smiled. She watched his face as he talked about his ship, and there was a light there, a joy that couldn’t be hidden by the night. Lee Hink loved this ship.
There was something about that kind of dedication in a man that made her like him all the more.
“Did Mrs. Senders retire?” Rose asked.
“Near as I know. Her husband was ill. Black lung. She decided to stay the ground to be with him for however long he still breathed.” He paused. They were so close to the ship now, the inflated envelope blocked out most of the sky above them.
He shook his head as he looked up at the Swift. “Takes a certain kind of love to give up a ship like this for someone,” he said. “I’m not sure that I’d have the will to do the same.”
“Maybe you just haven’t loved deeply enough, Captain,” Rose said.
He put one foot on the threshold and slipped a hand free to turn the door’s latch. “Likely you are correct, Miss Small. Not a lot of time for love when you’re riding the skies.”
He pushed the door open.
“Problem, Captain?” Ansell called out from the nose of the ship, his gun in one hand and knife in the other.
“Just taking a stroll, Mr. Ansell,” Hink said. “No need to stay awake on our account.”
“Aye, that, Captain.” He stowed his gun and rolled in his cot so his back was to the rest of the ship.
Captain Hink stepped fully into the ship. “Shall I set you on your feet, Miss Small?” he asked quietly.
“Please.”
Rose held her breath as he adjusted his hold on her and let her feet touch the ground. Her stomach roiled at the movement and she broke out in a cold sweat. But that couldn’t dampen her joy. She was determined to see the ship, all of her, or at least all of her that she could before either fatigue or pain made her pass out.
“Tell me about her,” Rose said, looking around.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, watching Rose as she held on to the metal bars and slowly walked toward the rear of the vessel.
She looked over at the captain, a big smile on her face. “Everything. I want to know her like a friend.”
He paused, studying her. The intensity in his gaze near took Rose’s breath right out of her chest.
Then he smiled, just so much that it curved his lips. It was an intimate sort of smile. As if he was intending to take his time and show her pleasure she had never known before.
“Let’s start in the boiler room,” he said. “It’s always a bit warmer there.”
Rose realized she was shaking. From the cold, yes, and the pain, and the effects of the coca leaf. But also with excitement. She was standing in an airship. With a handsome captain.
If she weren’t aching and cold, she might think this was a dream. A pleasant one at that.
Captain Hink paced up near her and wrapped his arm around her back, helping to guide her to the back of the ship. “This way.”
He opened the blast door, then turned a small gear, which struck a spark against flint. The burnt sulphur smell tickled her nose, as light caught across a network of glass globes around the metal rafters of the room.
Rose stopped full and put her hand to her heart, unable to speak. The lights were beautiful, catching flame in the burnished copper and brass of the big iron boilers.
Pipes, flues, and tanks filled the room, mahogany and teak adding their own beauty among the valves and compasslike gauges, even more lovely than when Molly had brought her back here.
“I’ve never imagined,” she began. “Well, I’ve imagined, but I was wrong.”
“Thought it might be a bit fancier?” he asked, turning his shoulders so he could walk into the room, his thumbs tucked in his belt.
“No. She’s more wondrous than I’d hoped. I can’t seem to make my eyes big enough to ta
ke it all in.” She smiled, and found Captain Hink smiling right back at her.
“Molly has a cot here.” He pointed to the snug bed in the corner of the room. “Why don’t you sit before you lose your knees?”
“You don’t think she’d mind?”
“Molly? Might be a bit hardheaded, and Lord knows she doesn’t listen to orders well, but she has a heart the size of the seven seas. I hear Gregors are built that way.”
Rose got herself over to the bed and was out of breath from that much activity. “I knew a Gregor,” she said, puffing a little. “He was just the same.”
The captain strolled to a boiler, and out of habit touched it, checking for heat, before leaning back against it.
“So this is the heart of the ship,” he said, looking around the room. “Molly’s the pulse that keeps it beating. Up front, I stand as the brains. Seldom is my navigator, that makes him the eyes. And Ansell and Guffin, I suppose, are her wings. We run a small crew, but we like it that way. Less chance of us stepping on top of each other and wanting to finish our disagreements with guns.”
“How long have you been harvesting glim? Three years?” she asked.
He looked down at his boots and shook his head. “That’s about right.”
“What did you do before that? Transport? She seems a small ship for that.”
Captain Hink took a deep breath and then started walking toward her. “I haven’t told you all the truth, Miss Small. Plainly, there hasn’t been time.”
He sat himself down beside her. So close, his shoulder brushed against hers. He rested his arms out over his knees, and loosely carded his fingers together.
“I’ve been running glim for three years. Several years before that I was a soldier in the war. And since the war, I’ve also been working for the president of the United States.”
“You’re a statesman?” she asked, confused. Didn’t make any sense for a statesman to be out in the wilds hopping skies for glim.
But then, Mr. Hunt was from the universities back east, and had been a teacher before hard times fell upon him. Maybe Captain Hink’s story was the same.