The thigh wound had been every bit as bad as she’d feared. Another day or two and he wouldn’t have had to worry about losing his testicles, because he’d have been too busy dying from blood poisoning. She washed the wound out thoroughly, trying in spite of her anger not to hurt him, and knowing she didn’t succeed.
At one point, he sat up with a snarl and tried to push her hands away, muttering something about “cleaning his own damn balls.”
Amanda gave him a look and a shove, and he fell flat on his back once again, golden eyes glaring.
“This is too serious for half measures, de Mendoza, and I’ve already seen your idea of wound care. I’m not impressed.” She leaned forward again, pushing her braid over her shoulder impatiently. “Besides, I’m nowhere near your balls. If I was, you’d know it.”
She smiled slightly at his disgruntled huff of breath, then frowned as she continued cleaning out the wound. In spite of what she’d said to him, Amanda was very aware of just how close his attackers had come to their intended target. And it was bad, very bad. A regular human would have been much sicker than Rhodry was, if not dead. Even without shifting, his enhanced metabolism had minimized the damage, and was probably already working to rebuild the muscle, now that she’d cleaned the worst of it.
She straightened finally, having done everything she could under their primitive circumstances. She hoped it was enough. He needed a proper hospital, not her small cache of pills and her dirty shirt.
He downed the first of the antibiotic capsules, grousing like a three-year-old, as she cleaned up, washing her hands with water as hot as she could stand it. Her back was stiff from working bent over in the cramped space, on top of already having spent much of the day struggling to weave together bark and branch that didn’t want to be woven. And she thought her hands and fingers might never recover from the harsh treatment they’d suffered over the last week or so. She made a mental note to bring moisturizer the next time she was abandoned in the wild, then sighed wearily as she dragged his pants back up, leaving the ties unfastened. It would have been better to leave him naked from the waist down, but it was cold and besides, she had to sleep next to him again tonight.
He was already sound asleep, so she lay down and pulled the cover over both of them. She wanted to groan with pleasure at finally being able to stretch out, and she’d have given just about anything to be home in her big, soft bed, fresh and warm after a hot bath, with…
Her eyes flashed open in shock. In her fantasy, it had been Rhodry waiting for her in that big bed. Stubborn, pigheaded Rhodry. Rhodry, whose searing kiss in front of the Guild Hall had left her wanting him more than ever. She stared at the fading embers of the fire for a while, unwilling to close her eyes. Eventually her worn out body took away the choice.
It wasn’t long before her dreams had his warm arm slipping around her waist and tucking her in close, and if she briefly woke up enough to wonder whether she was dreaming or not, she was too tired, and fell back to sleep too quickly, to worry about it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Amanda was unusually quiet when they rose the next morning—at least it was unusual in his experience. The one constant while he’d been struggling back to consciousness had been her voice, and she hadn’t shown any reluctance since then to express her opinion. While she went about their morning preparations with her usual efficiency, she didn’t say much of anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary.
If she was trying to make him feel guilty, it was working quite well. He should have told her about the knife wound. He’d kept thinking he would shift soon, and everything would be fine. He’d never needed medical attention before, never seen a doctor, not even the time he’d broken his leg in a dare with his cousins over a leap from the rooftops. Although in that case the pain had certainly been real enough.
He looked up to find her regarding him silently. “What?” he said suspiciously.
She screwed the cap back on her battered canteen and stowed it in her pack. “I think we should get out of here today. The weather’s cleared and we should take advantage of it while we can.”
“Agreed,” he said cautiously, knowing that wasn’t all of what she had to say.
“I want to check your injuries before we leave.”
He scowled, then lay back and pushed his trousers down, spreading his legs in lewd invitation. “I’m all yours,” he said with a flat stare.
She didn’t respond to his challenge, just scooted closer and ran her soft fingers over his chest and belly. “I’ve been thinking about rockweed,” she said absently. “It stands to reason that a shifter’s enhanced ability for cellular regeneration is part and parcel of the shift process. You are, after all, rapidly destroying some cells, while regenerating others every time you shift. A drug that suppresses the ability to shift would also be likely to suppress cellular regeneration. And that would affect your ability to heal injury and avoid sickness. Which would explain why someone like you—”
“Someone like me?”
She gave him a mild glance. “A healthy and strong shifter.”
“Ah.” He flushed, then stirred uncomfortably when her examination moved to his groin. It wasn’t that he was shy. No shifter was shy. It was the sensuous feel of her fingers as they glided purposefully along the skin of his abdomen, her breath warm as she bent to check his wound, and the fact that he was definitely feeling better.
She straightened, her hand resting lightly on his naked thigh. “Very nice, de Mendoza,” she said, and he would have sworn there was the first glint of humor behind her serious expression. “It’s improved tremendously just overnight. If my theory’s right, your recuperative abilities are returning. I wouldn’t be surprised if you can shift again soon.”
“Thank the gods,” he muttered. “Can I get dressed now?”
She left her hand on his bare leg and gave him a lazy look that had him sitting up straight and pulling on his trousers before he embarrassed himself any further. “I’ll just take a trip outside,” he said, then rolled over to all fours and crawled out of the damnable thicket, wincing as his various injuries made themselves known. He hoped she was right about the shifting. It couldn’t happen soon enough for him.
When Rhodry finally finished his business and made his clumsy way down the hillock, Amanda was already arranging things on the makeshift sled. He took one look at the sleeping bag all cozied up on the matting between the poles, and said, “I’ll walk.”
She turned and gave him a thoughtful look. “That snow pack’s five feet deep, maybe more.”
“We have the snow shoes.”
A look of irritation crossed her face. “Only one pair.”
His answer was a raised eyebrow.
She stared at him, squinting a little, because the morning sun was directly behind him. With an irritated grunt, she came several steps closer until she was standing close enough that he blocked the sunlight.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You’re going to wear my snowshoes—which you thought were only good for kindling, by the way—and I’m going to ride in the sled while you, big strong shifter that you are, will be pulling. Do I have that right?”
Rhodry opened his mouth to respond, and she leaned forward suddenly, closing the small distance left between them. She had to tip her head back to meet his eyes because he was a good four inches taller than she was.
“I know this is difficult for you,” she said in a low voice, though there was no one else to hear. “It’s hard to depend on others when you’re used to doing for yourself. We need to move fast, Rhodry. Someone tried to kill you—you don’t want to tell me who, that’s fine. It doesn’t even matter who they are. We need to be gone from here before they come back. Please. Just a little bit longer.”
Her eyes were dark blue this morning, like the shadows beneath the trees in summer. There were bruised-looking circles marring the fine skin beneath those eyes, and she was worn out, pale with exhaustion in spite of her cold-reddened cheeks.
Rhodry was abruptly ashamed. He brushed his thumb over the dark circles, and wished he could brush the exhaustion away as easily. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll ride in the damn sled.”
Her eyes closed briefly. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Amanda. I’m feeling enough of an ass as it is.” He pulled the sled around so he could climb aboard, feeling the pull in every muscle after days of inactivity. She was right. He knew it. Damn if he liked it, though.
“Thank you, anyway,” she said.
It was quick work to get him settled, all wound up like a piece of sausage. She patted his shoulder as she walked to the front and lifted the tow ropes. He felt the ropes grow taut as the snow tried to hold on, and then she gave a single grunt and they were moving.
They made good time, better than Amanda expected. The storm had dipped much further south than she’d guessed, leaving a snow-covered landscape over which the sled traveled easily. The next day would be more difficult as they gradually left the cold weather behind. Harp was a small planet with a severe axial tilt, and even a short distance could make a big difference in temperature. By tomorrow, the undergrowth would thicken, and tangled vines would begin to clog passage between the trees, making it increasingly more time-consuming to find a clear trail for the sled.
Fortunately, Rhodry’s healing abilities seemed to be returning with a vengeance. By tomorrow morning, he wouldn’t need the sled for anything except walking support. And by afternoon, they’d hit the Verge, which was a barren zone of rock and dirt. Dragging the sled over that would be almost impossible. Once they crossed it, however, it was a straight shot back to the Green, and just the thought of that cheered Amanda tremendously.
“We should camp here tonight,” Rhodry said. He’d already spent the last hour walking next to the sled, instead of riding in it. “It’s nearly sundown, and tomorrow will be rough going.”
She blinked. “We only have to cross the Verge tomorrow,” she said, and immediately regretted it.
The look he gave her was carefully blank, despite the smug smile she could see trying to fight its way onto his face. Clearly he knew something she didn’t, and since he wasn’t about to share, and she wasn’t about to ask… Damn. He’d been much easier to get along with when he was unconscious.
“Right,” he agreed with suspicious ease. “But if we camp here tonight, there’s a small stream through those trees. And with a good night’s sleep, I’ll be able to walk all day so we’ll make better time.”
His alpha tendencies were creeping back, too. He didn’t wait for her agreement, just started pulling the sleeping bag and other supplies from the sled, wincing only slightly when he reached too far. Although his shifter metabolism had finally kicked in with some healing, he still hadn’t shifted. Maybe his system was spending too much of its energy keeping him alive and healing the various wounds. She didn’t know that much about shifter chemistry—no norm did as far as she could tell, and shifters seemed to like it that way. Rhodry certainly wasn’t willing to talk to her about it. Or anything else for that matter, since he still refused to tell her who had attacked him.
He’d already selected a campsite and was slowly clearing a space for their sleeping bag when she blew out an exasperated breath. “Sit,” she ordered him. “I’ll clear the campsite. You can clean the rabbits,” she added, when he gave her an irritated look.
He laughed for the first time since she’d found him, his teeth flashing white, golden eyes dancing with amusement. And Amanda’s stomach did a little flip as a familiar desire tightened her chest. Damn it.
“Just don’t forget whose trial this is,” she managed to say briskly. And that was something she’d better not forget herself.
Amanda threw the last of the bones into the fire, wiping her hands on her already filthy leggings and thinking longingly of a hot bath. They had only a small fire going, enough to cook the two rabbits she’d snared, and to heat some water for tea. The sky was clear above the quiet trees, and on the horizon, the biggest of Harp’s three moons, Fodla, was a thick slice of pale promise. There was no wind at all, and the air was mild enough that Rhodry had thrown off her cloak once they settled in. He lounged near the flames, eyes half closed, as he lay propped up against a downed tree trunk and looking quite comfortable.
“I’d kill for a piece of fruit,” Amanda said suddenly. “I think there’s actually a disease you can get from eating nothing except meat.”
Rhodry’s eyes opened, and he gave her a big cat’s grin.
“Okay, not you, just us humans in general. You could probably live for months on rabbits and…I don’t know, nuts from the trees or something.”
“Not months,” he corrected lazily. “And that doesn’t mean I’d enjoy it.”
She chuckled softly and settled back, propped up on one elbow. It was amazing, really, how easy they were with one another. Here they were sharing a fire and a sleeping bag with no problem. Although that sleeping bag was going to be a problem soon. She was already thinking of him more as a man and less as a patient who needed her help to stay warm.
“So tell me,” she said, intentionally forcing her thoughts down a different path. “You weren’t on the escort team that abandoned me out on the glacier. Even though I was pretty sick, I made a point of remembering every one of them. So, how’d you happen to be so far north of the Green? Coincidence?”
It was a question that had been bothering her ever since she’d found him. There were no regular patrols that close to the glacier, because there was no one out there to protect.
He studied her silently for a long moment, long enough that she thought he wasn’t going to answer her…again. Until finally he said, “I was supposed to be on your escort. So was Fionn.” He shrugged. “Fionn objected to me. I objected to Fionn.”
“Why?”
“Why to which one?”
“Either, both, I don’t care.”
“I suspect the answer’s the same to both anyway. I wanted him gone, he wanted me gone, because the two of you are lovers.”
“We are not.”
He shrugged. “I believe you. Fionn’s another matter. He’s let everyone think it’s true, and he was acting awfully possessive at the Hall that day.”
“Fionn’s an idiot. A shifter idiot,” she added. “Which is the worst kind. You guys are territorial about everything from who goes out the door first to who gets the last piece of fruit. Besides, what difference would it have made for Fionn to be on the escort, even if we were lovers? Which we’re not,” she repeated. “He doesn’t think I’m qualified for the Guild any more than you do.”
Rhodry had the grace to be embarrassed. “I think it’s safe to say my position on that has changed. If not for you, I’d be dead.”
Amanda didn’t say anything to that. What was there to say? It was true. “So why were you all the way out here then?” she persisted.
Rhodry straightened away from the log with a wince of pain, and made a show of rearranging his legs. Nothing hurt, he just needed to give himself time to think. Should he tell her about Desmond Serna’s supposed rescue mission? If he told her that much, he’d also have to reveal what he’d been told of Nando’s plan to sabotage her trial, and he had only Serna’s word on that. And while he sure as hell had no obligation to protect his traitorous cousin, he wasn’t comfortable with the possibility of spreading false rumors. So, he told her the truth. Just not all of it.
“Fionn was pissed when I objected to his inclusion on the escort,” he said finally. “We argued, so Orrin Brady stepped in and kicked us both off. I’m not exactly Mr. Popularity at the Guild Hall.”
“What a shock.”
Rhodry grimaced. “You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, Desmond Serna approached me—he’s a distant cousin on my mother’s side. He told me that he and Kane Daly were going out to do some hunting along the glacier, and did I want to join them.”
“So what happened?” she asked.
“I forgot my family histor
y,” he growled, angry at himself. “Serna’s a cousin, like I said. A cousin from a branch that would benefit greatly if I died. I guess he got tired of waiting.”
“Your own cousin tried to kill you?”
“I did say he was a distant cousin.”
“Very funny.”
“Families are funny things sometimes.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she muttered.
“No family squabbles among the Sumner clan?”
“There is no Sumner clan. At least not for a few million light years.”
“Ah. That must be…different, I suppose. I was raised with family living practically on top of me. My closest friends are all cousins. Devlin cousins, that is. Not the kind who try to kill me.” He felt a pang of miserable homesickness when he thought about the many Devlin cousins he’d grown up with.
Over on her side of the fire, Amanda had fallen silent. She had a sad look on her face that made him feel guilty about lying to her. Not that he’d lied precisely. Not outright anyway. She had to suspect what Nando and the others had done, what they’d hoped would happen to her. She wasn’t stupid, and she’d sure as hell defeated their plans anyway. If he hadn’t slowed her down, she’d probably be halfway back to the city by now. He grinned privately, contemplating Nando’s reaction when she walked into the Guild Hall on her own.
And then he frowned, thinking about the repercussions to Nando and the others if Amanda survived to tell the truth of what they’d done. Maybe it would be better if she wasn’t entirely alone when she walked into that Guild Hall.
She sat up and began dismantling the roasting spit, dropping the sticks into the flames where they burned hotly for a few minutes before disintegrating.
“You want any more of this?” she asked him, holding out the metal canteen which they’d used to make tea.
“No, thanks,” he said, starting to rise. “Give it to me, I’ll take it—”
She pushed him back gently. “You go ahead and lie down. I’ll rinse it out and refill it for morning.”
Shifter Planet Page 21