Shield (Bridge & Sword: Awakenings #2): Bridge & Sword World

by JC Andrijeski

  After he’d gone flying over the white mane to meet a different piece of field, I watched him tumble into a seated position as Bait galloped off, kicking out his heels.

  Riding up to him on the red-faced horse, I leaned over the pale neck to tell Revik, who was still sitting on the ground, that I’d renamed Bait yet again… and that he would henceforth be known as “Karma.”

  That actually made him laugh out loud.

  Things stayed easy at the house. By the third night, we got into a rhythm. We took turns showering, changed clothes, ate. Then I sat cross-legged in front of the fire while he leaned against the couch with a notebook and a pen. After a few hours of watching him sketch that first night, I finally asked him what he was doing.

  He’d been vague about the specifics. Something about mapping a Barrier structure he’d seen. He’d shown me how he did it, though, explaining his system of using different patterns in the lines to demonstrate where the structures stood in relation to one another dimensionally. Borrowing his sight, I could see how he was translating from the Barrier to a two-dimensional diagram. It was actually pretty neat. The structures even looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen them before.

  Things only got weird when we went to bed, and then mostly because each night I’d try to get him to trade me for the couch. Each night, he refused.

  I slept fine that second night. Even after the third, I woke up feeling good.

  Well after midnight on the fourth, I was still awake.

  The house was warmer, maybe because the weather kept getting warmer, or maybe because he’d turned on the steam heat to test it out the night before, while in one of his tinkering moods. In any case, I didn’t need the blanket.

  Wearing a long, silk, pajama shirt that might have been meant for him, I lay on top of the covers and stared up at the ceiling.

  It was dark with the drapes closed, but a swath of moonlight made its way through a crack in the curtains. I distracted myself, finding faces and animals in whorls of plaster and wondering what the stars looked like.

  An hour later, I realized I wasn’t going to sleep.

  I was in pain.

  I’d known that, of course.

  Suffering from separation pain was hardly noteworthy, after months of that… over a year of it, really, if I counted the time on the ship and even before that, in Seattle. It was such a constant in my life by then, it took me a while longer to realize it was the reason I was still awake.

  I wondered if he was sleeping.

  Lying there, I tried to ignore the separation pain itself, as per usual, even as I let my mind toy with his offer that first night, and whether he’d meant it when he said it had nothing to do with what Maygar had done.

  I believed him. Or, I believed that he believed it, anyway.

  Still, it made me wonder what he told himself about why he’d changed his mind.

  I struggled with the whole pain-light-marriage thing in general though, philosophically at least. It was easy to convince myself that most of our “feelings” were somehow biologically wired, due to the way seers reacted to one another once they’d bonded. I’d been told by a few of them, everyone but Revik himself, really, that it didn’t actually work that way. In fact, they claimed it was the opposite.

  They said the bonding came directly out of the feelings. Unlike humans, seers just happened to hardwire those feelings biologically.

  Well. More or less.

  I knew I didn’t see it quite the way they did, though. Not having been raised seer, there were still gaps in how I viewed some of the bigger differences with human culture and biology. With Revik and I, it all happened so fast, it was easy to doubt the feelings that rose for me in the wake of the bonding itself.

  I was told that happened sometimes, too. It didn’t mean the pairing was a mistake, or “random,” or related somehow to a form of seer sexual frustration… all of which I’d worried about with us, to lesser and greater degrees.

  Neither Revik nor I had mentioned our talk that first night.

  He hadn’t kissed me since then, either, or touched me at all really, even to hold my hand.

  After replaying the conversation in my head, I realized he wouldn’t come near me, not unless I gave him a reasonably clear signal.

  Which was fine, and fair enough… except I was probably the crappiest person on the planet at giving signals.

  I could just wait. We’d both tacitly agreed to wait, and it had only been a few days; I should probably just let things play out naturally.

  Sooner or later, we’d have to talk about it.

  Or, given our past track record, not.

  There’d been a few tense moments that day. I’d jokingly shoved him on the picnic blanket during lunch, and it nearly turned into a wrestle when he grabbed my arms––right before he abruptly backed off. He reacted when I took down my hair. I felt it before I saw it. I wasn’t even sure I’d read him right until I glanced over and saw his jaw clenched.

  He reacted to my announcement that I was going swimming, too.

  He was possibly angry about my reaction to his offer. Or maybe he was embarrassed because I’d essentially turned him down. I didn’t know if he got embarrassed about things like that, though. He seemed pretty open about sex in general, with everyone but me, anyway.

  I got the impression he was still holding on to the Maygar thing.

  He wasn’t happy that I’d fought him. I definitely picked up on that at least once. Hell, we probably needed to fight ourselves… which we’d still never done. Just spar it out until one or both of us cut the crap. Given his record in that area though, it might not be much of a match.

  And that brought me back around to his original offer.

  Was I being stupid?

  It was a one-way ticket, so there was that. But I was pretty sure we’d both already signed on for that part, so waiting a few more weeks wasn’t going to change anything there.

  I still didn’t completely trust him. There was that.

  But he’d acknowledged that, too, in his way. And I was pretty sure the only thing that would fix that would be time. Truthfully, at that point, I didn’t really think he’d cheat on me. My mind didn’t, anyway, when I reasoned it out. Now that he’d decided to be married, I believed him that the rules had changed for him.

  He was a seer, after all.

  But believing him and trusting him still weren’t fully aligned in my head.

  Gritting my teeth, I sat up. I slid off the edge of the bed before I really thought about what I was doing.

  I’d leave myself an out.

  I’d see if he was awake, ask if he wanted to go look at the stars.

  Walking to the door to the other room, I stopped again, second-guessing everything for another few seconds. He’d never buy that. On the other hand, did it matter? I’d seen through his attempts at meeting me halfway, too.

  Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open as softly as I could.

  I listened to the quiet, wondering at first if he’d left again.

  Then I heard him breathing.

  I couldn’t tell if he was asleep, not for sure. His breathing wasn’t exactly regular, but it was heavier than usual, so he was most likely asleep and dreaming. Before I could talk myself out of it, I crossed the rug-covered floor in my bare feet, telling myself I was just going to look. If he really was awake, maybe he would want to go outside with me.

  Or fight me. Whichever.

  But he wasn’t awake. Sprawled on his back, he lay on the couch fully dressed, an arm hooked around the cushion behind his head. An old paperback book lay on the floor by the couch, almost as if it had fallen from his fingers when he dozed off. I glanced at the title, saw that it was some Russian writer, and fiction. He read a lot, as a general rule, but I couldn’t remember ever seeing him read fiction before, not even on the ship.

  His face rested against the back cushion, leaving its outline in profile. His other hand lay on his stomach. He didn’t look whol
ly relaxed, though; whatever he was dreaming about, it left a vague tension around his eyes.

  The couch was wide, I noticed. Even with him lying flat on his back, I could fit there, next to him. Staring at that foot and a half of fabric, I hesitated. I wondered if he would mind waking up with me next to him.

  More likely, I’d startle him and end up in a headlock, or on the floor.

  After a brief tug of war in my head, I sat down… carefully.

  He didn’t wake.

  His light shifted though, once I’d been sitting there for a few seconds. It moved like a living thing, separate from the rest of him. I felt it change, right before it snaked around my outline, dancing in pale eddies as it explored. I fought not to react, but, looking at him, I felt the pain deepening, flickering at the edges of my awareness. I watched it rise, knowing it would only get worse the longer I sat there.

  I should leave. Now. Before I did something stupid.

  I watched his face tighten as he resettled on his back. Somehow, my mind returned to that first morning, in Seattle. Despite all the horrible things that happened with us afterwards, I’d woken up wrapped in his arms.

  He’d wanted sex with me that morning, too. I wondered how different things would be with us now, if I’d taken him up on that initial offer.

  I continued to sit there as his light wound up liquidly through mine.

  “Revik?” I whispered.

  He didn’t move. His breathing didn’t change.

  I stroked his forearm, tracing the line of muscle with my fingers. His arms were bigger than they had been in Seertown. Wherever he’d been these past few weeks, he’d gotten exercise. His face had filled out more, too, and his skin was tan from being outside. It had been even before our excursions of the past few days.

  I watched his expression relax as I touched him.

  I cleared my throat. “Revik?”

  He’d been a light sleeper on the ship. Half the time when I woke up, he wasn’t there. I caressed his fingers, pausing on the ring he wore, thinking about what it meant, his wearing it. I’d been afraid to ask, but I wondered if the finger he’d chosen meant anything, either.

  I tried to make up my mind to leave.

  I laid a hand on his chest. His light opened more, the longer I left my hand there, until his pain gradually bled into mine. I saw his face tighten as I slid my palm up to his shoulder. I massaged the muscle there slowly, watching him relax deeper into the couch. When he still didn’t move, I found myself doing the same to his chest through his shirt.

  I did that for probably far too long.

  Finally, I made up my mind to leave.

  When I took my hands off him, I felt his breathing accelerate.

  He was awake. I hesitated, looking at him, watching his face. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, so I could see him almost clearly. He hadn’t opened his eyes, or done anything really, but he was awake. I could feel it. His light felt different, too.

  I could just leave. He probably wouldn’t say anything if I just stood up and left. But I found myself sitting there anyway.

  “Revik,” I said, quiet.

  I felt his reluctance. He didn’t want to talk. He also didn’t want me to leave. He wanted me to touch him. I felt him wanting it.

  “Revik,” I said, softer.

  Slowly, he turned his head.

  His eyes were glassed to the point of being opaque. Watching him look at me, I fumbled with words, trying to decide if there was anything I could say that would explain this, what I was doing. I was still looking at him when he lowered his hand, stroking my calf gently with his fingers, using his light to pull on mine.

  It felt like a question.

  I thought of all the b.s. I’d considered feeding him, about looking at stars and getting up because I’d been bored.

  I found myself lost in his open expression instead.

  We gazed at each other’s faces in the bluish light from the window, and I couldn’t help but think about his explanation for why he’d brought me here.

  I felt his shock that I’d woken him, but he didn’t let me close enough to see much past it. I could still feel him not wanting to talk, almost aggressively not wanting to talk to me. Despite his shields, I was lost inside his light, further in than I’d realized. He wanted me to keep touching him. He thought if we talked, he’d say something and I’d stop touching him.

  I understood. I really did.

  I also felt the part of me that still wanted to hesitate, that was still waiting for him to say something or do something, something that probably wouldn’t even reassure me.

  …until I let that go, too. Finally.

  And then I was just looking at him, biting my lip against the pain in my chest. It bled slowly into a coiling nausea when I didn’t move.

  He caressed my hand, threading our fingers.

  Pain flickered around the edges of his light, too, but he had it under control again. Briefly, I saw the predator thing rise to his eyes. I saw his throat move, just before his gaze shifted down. He focused briefly on my mouth.

  I felt the question on him again, but further away that time.

  Taking another breath, I shifted closer to where he lay.

  Without dropping my gaze, I slid a hand under his shirt, pushing the soft fabric up his body. His skin reacted under my fingers like they carried a faint electrical charge. I watched his eyes though, and they didn’t move. His body didn’t move either, while I caressed him. He seemed to hold his breath, leaning into me gradually as I explored his skin.

  It occurred to me that I’d only really seen him without a shirt once, in Seattle… and I pushed the one he wore up further, so I could look at him. I saw the tattoo on his arm, a blue and black band of writing he’d told me on the ship he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten. His chest was covered in fine, dark hairs and still muscular, though not as large as I remembered.

  I massaged him slowly, exploring him with my hands.

  I felt his breathing grow heavy when I didn’t stop. His fingers tightened on my arm, but otherwise he didn’t move, not even to look at me. I tugged the shirt up past his shoulders.

  After the barest pause, he sat up, helping me take it off his head and arms.

  When I dropped it to the floor, his fingers found my hair. His body softened, right before he tried to pull my mouth to his, but I stopped him gently with my hand.

  I felt pain on him, a caught breath.

  “Allie,” he murmured. His voice tugged at me gently.

  He seemed to want to say more, but didn’t.

  Easing his hands out of the way, I slid into his lap.

  He didn’t move as I unhooked his belt, tugging the leather tongue out of a loop, then away from the silver prong. I felt disbelief on him as I pulled it out from around him––just before he caught hold of me. He clenched a hand in my hair as I pulled back briefly, dropping his belt on the floor.

  When I slid deeper into his lap, he let out a low groan.

  The sound stopped me, cold.

  I looked at him.

  “You said it was an open offer, right?” I said, quiet.

  His eyes flickered up, off my body, where he stared at me in his lap like he couldn’t believe it. He gazed back at me for a few seconds more, at a loss. His eyes studied mine in the half-dark, as if trying to read me without reaching out.

  Then his fingers tightened in my hair, pulling my mouth roughly to his.

  He kissed me, using his tongue, his skin flushing hot.

  After a few seconds, he groaned against my mouth. I found myself trying to calm him with my light, but he pushed my attempts away, nearly frantic. The urgency on him completely threw me. I tried again to compensate, to slow him down, but he pushed at my light again, gasping against my mouth, his hand under my shirt.

  When I opened, half in shock, he wound into me until I gasped, until both of us were half-blind with pain. He let out another groan as his body melted under mine, just before he arched against me.

  T
rying a different tack, I took his hand, bringing it to my breast, and his pain worsened. He slowed though, caressing me gently as I kissed his neck. He pushed up my shirt, using his tongue and his light until I couldn’t think straight, until my fingers clenched in his hair.

  He took one of my hands, bringing it down past where his belt had been. He kissed me harder, holding my palm and fingers against the part of him that was now straining his pants. When I massaged him there, he groaned again, louder, his pain rippling out at me until we were both sweating.

  “Allie… gods…”

  He fell silent. Again, I felt him wanting to say more. He fought to pull back, to control his light. I curled my arm around his neck, caressing his chest.

  “Revik, it’s all right,” I murmured. “Baby, it’s all right… let go…”

  “Tell me. Please, Allie. Tell me what’s all right…”

  I slid deeper into his lap, kissing his face. “I want this,” I said, soft. “I want you.” I kissed him again. “Do you want me?”

  His fingers tightened more. I felt a flicker of disbelief on him again.

  He didn’t move though, and he didn’t look up.

  Biting my lip, I eased off with my light, sliding backwards on his legs.

  “Do you still want to wait?” I said. “Revik, just tell me. I’m not trying to push you.”

  I didn’t realize my eyes were glowing until he looked up; I saw his face lit with a greenish cast, my eyes reflected in his.

  I could feel more off him now, but in layers, sliding in and out of the edges of his light. Behind his eyes, mine reflected sunlight; my lips curved in a smile, clothing plastered to my body as I waded out of the river, laughing. I felt desire on him… dense… enough that my hands hurt, my mouth, even my tongue. It worsened when I saw him masturbating in the shower, eyes closed, fighting to keep his light from mine in the other room. He leaned against the shower wall, fantasized about fucking me in the field by the river, in front of the fireplace, on the kitchen table, in the bed in the other room.

  The image faded even as I realized he was trying to shield from me once more, and only half-succeeding. It wasn’t shyness exactly. Whatever it was felt closer to fear, an uncertainty of how I saw him––how I might react if he went too far.