Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  It wasn't that she was strong that angered and wounded him. She was strong in many ways.

  It was that she had to risk herself. That she was in danger.

  And one day—perhaps one day soon—she wouldn't come back.

  More was coming. More danger. More pain. More suffering.

  The one vow he'd never thought he would struggle to keep was the one he made to protect her. Now he had to lead her through a place that would nearly destroy her.

  Almost as bad, he smelled the fear on her, slightly metallic, a little biting. A contrast to her usual soft, warm scent. Her heart thudded against his, too fast for her to be as calm as she pretended.

  Even in this she tried to be brave and reduce his burden. It should have been the other way around though. And as surely as he breathed, she knew he was afraid too. That made it all the worse.

  "I didn't want this for you," he said softly.

  She burrowed closer, her cheek pressed to his chest. "It's not your fault this is the only path we can take. But we can't fight this path anymore."

  AaQar stepped away from the bavril. He had hitched it once more to the sledge and hung the remaining fish on the back. "I'll take this to a better location and have QueQoa and WroOth meet us there. We should spend the night near water if we can."

  He almost smiled, appreciating the kindness. "The river is that way."

  Amelia wiped her hand over her eyes and started to pull away. "Don't you need help? You shouldn't go alone."

  "I neither want nor need your help." AaQar tucked the dolmath under his arm and then led the bavril through the largest gap in the trees.

  She stared after him, her mouth partially open.

  Naatos cupped his hand around her chin and drew her gaze back to his. "You shouldn't make this decision because you're afraid for us."

  "Is it my decision?" She tilted her head. "Because if it is, then I choose this path." She swallowed hard, her smile wavering and her eyes misting. "From what AaQar has said and just how I feel, I'm not going to be fine all the way through. But in the end, I will be because you aren't going to leave me. And something is pulling me here. More importantly, we have to get to Darmoste. I think—" She started to put her hand on his stomach but stopped and placed it on the center of his chest instead. "I think maybe you feel that too. But you tell me. Do you feel the same in your gut?"

  Some days it felt as if everything out there wanted to steal his veskaro and hurt her. He stroked her cheek, his other arm still around her waist. She was right. AaQar was right. They all knew the truth. "I'd risk it all to spare you this."

  "I know you would." She dipped her head, her smile quirking up. "And I know you're mad at me about the scorpions. It was stupid. But stupid was all I had. Just like you really. I also think you were incredibly brave. It's one of the best things about you. You really didn't stand a chance against that dragon. Not after everything the others had done and the way they kept you and your brothers apart. And you grabbed me out of the sky even though it risked you."

  Admiration wasn't something he thought he needed or wanted. It warmed and stung at once. "I would never let you fall, veskaro."

  Leaning up on her toes, she kissed the corner of his mouth. "And I won't stand by and let you be torn to pieces if there's something I can do."

  He caught the back of her head in his hand and swept his mouth against hers. Her lips parted as she greeted him, her tongue teasing at his lower lip. Promises and understanding hid in these kisses. He held her as tight as he could.

  She pulled her mouth free, her hands sliding up his chest to his face. An impish smile shone on her face though it did not quite reach her eyes. Wretched woman was still trying to be brave for him, and he didn't know how he felt about that. "I've decided on your nickname," she said.

  "Have you?" He stroked her cheek.

  "You're a scorpion. My scorpion."

  The smile pulled unevenly at his lips, impossible to resist. Could he really have expected anything less from her? "I suppose I'm flattered the name does not involve some references to spiders."

  "I'll think of something better eventually. I've never really been one for nicknames, but it seemed like I should come up with at least one for you."

  How long before she called him "stupid scorpion?" His onion fish was stubborn, relentless, terrified, and brave; he could not hate her for any of that.

  More importantly, she was real, and she lived. She breathed. She was his. And he would protect her even if he couldn't keep her from suffering.

  81

  Laid Bare

  Amelia stepped back from Naatos, releasing a deep breath. Her heart beat a little faster.

  There was another thing she wanted to do before they joined AaQar at the river and prepared for the challenges ahead. "I'm not sure how to start this but—are you completely exhausted and need to go get food? Or…" She lifted her shoulder and dipped her head.

  He looked her up and down, his brow lifted with amusement. "You want to vestov? Now? You don't smell aroused."

  She shrugged, the heat creeping into her neck and face once more as she smiled. "I'll get there. I was able to hold off when I was in the mood. I can find a way to get in the mood. Especially if you help me. Will is an incredible thing."

  "Your will in particular." He slipped his hand beneath her elbow to guide her back in front of him. "But why now, veskaro? Of course I want you. But—why."

  She couldn't hold the smile as she folded her arms, her elmis pressed flat to her torso. "We need to finish what we started before the canyon. And—I guess more importantly—I'm going to lose my mind in here. Or come close to it anyway. I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen. And I want this before we go through." She clenched her fingers against her tunic, the grey material scratching against her elmis. Her elmis weren't throbbing at the moment, but vestoving or even just some form of intimacy was what she needed. "I don't know why it's so hard for me to let you see me naked."

  "Is it the scars?"

  She kept her arms over her breasts. "I never wanted to be upset about this. If they were on anyone I cared about, I'd try to convince them that it didn't take away from them. That the scars didn't reduce them. But every time I see these scars—I—I can't explain why it feels so important to me because it shouldn't be. But some part of me disagrees. And it is. Waiting to show—to let you see me—it's just gotten too big. Does that make sense?"

  The moon had shifted farther in the west. It shone into the clearing with long bands of dark shadows from the trees cutting through its silver glow. It highlighted his features and gave him a more contemplative look.

  He tilted his head, his mouth twitching. "Vawtrians don't look at scars the same way. We save some as memories. But I know that it matters to you and that it's hard for you." He paused. "Maybe this will make it easier."

  In one smooth motion, he removed his doublet and the tunic beneath. The moonlight gleamed on his taut muscles and near-perfect skin. Before she could speak, he placed his hand on the broad spiderwebbed scar on his chest. The silver-grey scar tissue glinted in the moonlight at points. "This is from a pole arm. It nearly struck someone whom I cared for deeply. So I took the blow, and I kept it because it was at that moment I knew that person was part of my family. This—" he indicated a long gash at the base of his bicep. "This was from Rasha. Our first kuvaste."

  "You and Rasha kuvasted?" She lifted her brow, a smile warming her mouth.

  "We did not get along well at the start."

  "So you kept that. But nothing from the Four Face that grabbed her and which you helped save her from?"

  Naatos's brow arched as well, almost comical but a little serious. "And how do you know I didn't?"

  Pausing, she tested the air between them. Somehow it was lightening. She then canted her head. "I don't know. I just do." She offered a shrug. "Sometimes I pick up pieces. I don't know how or why. It just happens."

  "Where was this scar then?" Curiosity glinted in his crystal-blue eyes,
intense and bright.

  "Your left ankle across the Achilles tendon, if that's what you call it. So why lose that one and not this one."

  He sat on the ground, then waited for her to do the same. "You know so much. Tell me why."

  Her elbow dug into her knee as she studied him. It was all there, wavering in the air like fresh water seeping into salt in an open channel. The real question was whether she could catch and interpret it. There was so much here now, and focusing on it made it simpler to ease herself into what she needed to do. As if some barrier had been removed.

  She breathed easier. "Deep down you want to remember her as a member of your family whom you loved and who challenged you to be better rather than someone you had to save or someone you had to save your brother from."

  He grunted with amusement as he leaned back on the ground. "If Elonumato hears, let him give me strength." He shook his head. "You think too kindly of me, veskaro. I removed the one because I despised her, and I will never again put my life on the line for her. I keep the other to remind me she is treacherous. She used venom in our kuvaste. That is not something that is done."

  "Mostly true. Half true." She bit the inside of her lip. "What scar did you keep from Mara?"

  He held up his hand, the back facing her. "A small one between the third and fourth fingers."

  "That?" She giggled. "Did you get too close to a rising cake?"

  "I told her she didn't know how to hold a knife. She took mine. And dropped it on my hand."

  "You didn't catch it? I'm surprised at you."

  "I was distracted." He sounded amused.

  Her smile faltered. "You know I'm never going to be Mara or any of the other veskaros who were part of your cadre, right?"

  "I don't want Mara. She was a dear sister, but as we are—we wouldn't have worked. I would have become a very different person with her and she with me. No one stays the same, but the people we are closest to change us the most. The same is true of every other veskaro and veskare in my cadre."

  "There's something that you wanted though."

  "WroOth and Mara had a connection unlike any I have ever seen," he said quietly. "It was not that it was always easy for them, but they found a way to make it seem easy. And—" He hesitated, a frown creasing his features. "Knowing all I do, I would still choose you exactly as you are and not what you were supposed to be."

  "Oh?"

  "You were supposed to be meek and timid. What was done to you, I was warned that you would have little sense of self. That you would have less courage and less tenacity than any of the Neyeb I had encountered. That it was just to be expected. And I cannot say that that pleased me."

  "You're sure you didn't want a wife who just did what you wanted?" It wasn't that he was lying. Not at all. But she struggled to believe it despite what she sensed.

  His brow creased. "I—yes, it was appealing to believe that my beloved would share my desires. But I actually do like challenges. I appreciate guile and ferocity. I hoped that with time you would find your voice. You came with a voice that was far larger than I anticipated and that enraged me. Nothing about you went to plan."

  "And that doesn't disappoint you?"

  "You were afraid of making me stronger before you trusted me, but, veskaro, that is who you are. Whether you are for me or against me, you make me stronger. You have led to my doing things I would have thought impossible. You do not make my life easy. But you do make it better. Even when you infuriate me." He leaned his forehead to hers as he smoothed back her hair.

  She nuzzled him, letting her eyes slide shut. "I hated you so much. And I got used to that driving me. Now—it's so strange, but we work. Most of the time. You make me want to be better just to prove you wrong sometimes, and other times I just—I'm going to borrow your shirt." She scooped his doublet up.

  He chuckled, though his forehead wrinkled. "You're going to add on more clothing before we vestov?"

  "Give me a moment. Then you'll see."

  "I hope so," he said with dry amusement.

  Stepping behind one of the broader trees, she stripped her own clothing away and put his doublet on. The cool air swept along her bare thighs and the small of her back, wisping at her elmis.

  It was all right.

  This was good.

  It wasn't like it was her first time having sex. And it had felt incredible the last two times. She'd barely had any time to bask in those sensations after their first night with the arrival of the unformed ones. Not even their time "setting up camp" had allowed as much time for enjoying the moments once they finished.

  Not that she was likely to revel in this either. When they got to the other side of Dry Deep, they'd chase and find euphoria again. Together. That offer of a couple weeks holed up in some shelter with just the two of them sounded even more appealing. Just time to be and to enjoy one another.

  His doublet was still warm from his body. The sleeves overshot her wrists, and the stiff material did not respond well to being rolled. But it would slide off easily enough, and that was what mattered most.

  With one more deep breath, her insides twisting almost as much as they had when they were in the air, she stepped out.

  Her eyes widened when she saw him.

  Apparently while she was putting his clothes on, he had been taking the rest of his off. Her heart thudded faster.

  Wow.

  She'd felt everything on him, but the fact that he looked this good too—well, he had spent a lot of time making sure his body was well-formed as he put it. He was all hard lines and coiled muscle, unrelenting and ferociously handsome and masculine. And utterly unashamed of every inch of his body.

  For a moment, she found it hard to breathe. "You're naked," she said at last.

  "I thought it might encourage you to do the same." The smile pulled crooked as he studied her. "And I do like where my doublet has gone. I'll like it even more when it's on the ground."

  The ease with which he slid into seduction still surprised her, especially given that hours earlier he had been shattered into pieces and near death. Vawtrian healing and energy reserves were worth envying.

  She bit the inside of her lower lip again as she fidgeted with the second toggle on the doublet, realizing she was stalling.

  It was all right. This needed to be done. Had to be done. So many things had been taken from her, but this was a moment she would make good. This would not be taken.

  With one last burst of courage, she unfastened the toggles and tossed off the doublet. She fixed her gaze downward, unable to bring herself to look at him.

  The sharp intake of his breath made her tighten with both pleasure and embarrassment.

  Looking down meant she had to look at her own body though. Had to take it in. The scars marbled her skin in black and red ridges, some little more than scratches, others deep and pitted. Her left breast had the deepest wounds, a puncture and cut that twisted it inward in a puckering gouge. Several tore along her rib cage in jagged scrapes and snarls. Even the flesh between her breasts had been affected with a deep red-black scar that looked like a thick trail of cooling magma.

  "I never really cared what I look like," she said softly. "Or rather I wanted to think I didn't care. I guess I do. But most of all, yours are stories and memories; I feel like mine show—" She pressed her lips into a tight line. They reminded her how alone she felt in that place. How desperate and terrified. Elonumato had answered her prayers but not in the way she wanted. She'd been bitten and clawed and tormented in darkness, and His answer had been to send the man who put her there to get her out. She was about to go into a place where her mind would be undone, and His answer here seemed to be that she had to trust the same man.

  The fact that she loved Naatos made it easier perhaps. Yet that shame and humiliation clung to her nonetheless. She hadn't wanted to depend on anyone else.

  She swallowed again, wishing it was enough to remove all of the discomfort and return her confidence and movement.

  Glancing up
, she saw he hadn't moved. He just stood there, framed in moonlight. Naked but silent and alert. Waiting. Watching. Wanting.

  "It's all right." She grimaced as her voice shook. "I'm fine. You can—" Dipping her head forward, she ran her hand along her cheek. Her elmis pulsed with awareness, more focused now on her own tension than his response. She focused on the ground, trying to ignore her marred flesh.

  He cupped his hand over her left breast, his thumb pressing against the largest of the twisted scars. Her breath hitched at the warmth, her awareness of his mood muddled. The pulse of alarm stiffened her body; she resisted pulling back. Barely.

  His thumb grazed her nipple. Most of it had been destroyed by the spider's attack, but some small spiral of sensation prickled through her. Not quite pleasure but not bad either. She lifted her gaze back to his, no longer wanting to see those raised and welted marks, evidence of a horrific nightmare come to reality.

  He didn't flinch at all as he studied her, his gaze surprisingly soft. Though some measure of sorrow passed from him to her, the overwhelming sensation was one of love and acceptance. A pleasant warmth and soothing expansion, accepting her for what she was. The twinging sadness came only from recognizing what had led to the marks, not because of the marks' existence.

  He cradled both breasts in his hands. "I am sorry for what you suffered. For the cruelty I inflicted on you. But you do not need to feel shame with me. These are not your shame. They are mine. You could not have done better than you did. And when I look at these, I remember most of all how strong you are. How hard you fought. They show what you survived."

  "I don't like them," she whispered. "I don't know that I ever will, and I doubt I'll ever see them as beautiful or good. But they are part of me."

  He nodded, then kissed her neck and drew her close. As he caressed her, her discomfort eased. His hands moved along her body in gentle, curling strokes. Though he did not avoid the scars, he focused his attention on the points where she shivered or leaned closer. Her pulse quickened, her body waking to his touch.