Chen

by JC Hay

  Chen couldn’t help but grin as the scintillation of happiness traveled across the wolfbond like a glissando, and she turned away before he could see her smiling. “You act like I never give you any affection at all.”

  “What’s it like? The bond, that is.”

  The question made Chen stop, forehead creased and her lips a tight line as she picked an answer. Describing her arm would have been easier. “I’ve never thought about it feeling like anything. It’s probably cliché to say this, but mostly it feels like completion. Like there had always been a part of me missing, and somehow I didn’t know about it. Worse, there’s this nagging sense that without the wolfbond I might never have understood what was missing. This fear that I’d have just been...empty. Does that make sense?”

  “That sounds amazing. Still, sharing each other’s thoughts must be disconcerting.”

  “People always get that wrong, you know. Wolves and humans don’t think the same way. They think in abstractions—colors and emotions. I don’t get to share her senses, more’s the pity. And it’s not like she’s in my head, having a conversation with me. I know her moods well enough that I can guess what she’s thinking, but mostly it’s just her presence, keeping me aware of her so we can work in concert.” Chen rubbed the back of her neck. “Which I suppose is for the best. She’s too damn noisy as it is. She’d never shut up if I could actually hear her words in my skull.”

  “If my few hours of experience are anything to go by, it would all be demands for food and belly-rubs.” He doubled down on the scratches and made baby-talk noises to her wolf. She had to admit it was adorable.

  Nujalik’s happiness was contagious, and Chen could keep from chuckling. “He’s got you pegged, chow-hound.”

  There was a jagged spark of dissonance along the bond, as her wolf took offence at the teasing and straightened up. Javad gave her one more consoling pat along the spine as he apologized. “You’re right, it wasn’t nice to point that out. I’m sorry. You’re motivated by more than food.”

  Chen’s heart squeezed at the words, at the realization of how much he could read her wolf. At the idea he was eavesdropping on the bond. “This tree will do,” she said once she could speak. “Do I need to trim your end or can you lift it like that?”

  He looked at her, confused and hurt by her sudden shutting down. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Nujalik’s disappointment and confusion stabbed along the bond. Chen stared at the horizon, then lifted the thick end of the dead tree. “We took too long getting out here already. I want to get back before it gets dark. If you were that clumsy in daylight...” She let it trail off, hoping it might lighten the mood she had soured.

  It didn’t, but he let it go. “Good point,” he agreed. He didn’t speak again until they got back to the cabin.

  “YOU’RE DOING THIS ON purpose.” Chen glared at Nujalik, who made every effort to appear reprimanded from her spot on the couch. “And don’t give me that look. You know exactly what I mean.”

  She resisted the urge to check out the window, knowing what she’d find. Priddy, chopping up the tree they’d carried back together. He’d insisted, as atonement for ruining her getaway, and she’d been too annoyed with him to tell him no. Having him out of the small living space of the cabin didn’t hurt either. Chen only hoped she could clear her head of him as easily. He’d understood her wolf, not just made an assumption, but interpreted a feeling and responded. She narrowed her eyes at the wolf. “You’re letting him in on purpose.”

  Nujalik grumbled a protest, her apology brushing the edges of Chen’s mind.

  “No, he isn’t a nice person. You heard him. He’s led God-knows-what kind of trouble to our doorstep. And he’s got all the survival sense of a newly whelped pup.” The steady whack of steel on wood paused a heartbeat too long, and she held her breath, half-expecting him to come rushing in with a bloody stump. She had almost committed herself to investigating, but then the axe started back up. She released the breath she’d been holding. “Besides, you only like him because he pets you.”

  The wolf shifted her dark eyes and lay her black-furred head down on her front paws, while a splinter of amusement seeped across the bond. The message behind the wolf’s intimations hit her a moment later, and she playfully tossed a pillow at Nujalik. “No, he cannot pet me too.”

  A curl of warm want shifted in her belly, and she crushed it before her wolf could notice. Even if she were on the market for a new partner, it wasn’t going to be someone who would come into the mountains in lightweight summer clothes. Full lips and tousled hair be damned. She let out a long huff. “Besides, you have a terrible track record with finding partners for me.”

  It also reminded her of the distinct disadvantage to her grandfather’s cabin—the single bed. She hadn’t broached the topic with Priddy yet, but she needed to let him know he was sleeping on the couch. It was the safest path for both of them.

  Chen stood and walked into the kitchen, just to move her legs. To do something other than carry on a not-quite-one-sided argument with her wolf. The bond made it feel slightly less daft, but the parallels were too thin for comfort. Nujalik shifted to rest her chin on the arm of the sofa, watching her with all the gentle admonition her eyes could muster.

  And well deserved too. Chen knew better than to blame her relationship going supernova on the wolf. Yes, Nujalik and Elena hadn’t much cared for each other. Each tolerated the other because they both made Chen happy, but neither seemed particularly willing to be part of a triangle, which was how all ranger relationships had to be. Honestly, the best part of breaking up had been losing the feeling of tug-of-war that ensued when the three of them were together. It left Chen like the fulcrum on a very angry seesaw, as each tried to gain leverage over the other.

  Chen braced her hands on the white enameled iron of the sink and chewed her lower lip. “Just don’t get attached to him. That’s what I’m saying.”

  The door swung open, and Priddy stepped into the cabin, his thin, wiry frame still somehow taking all the air out of the place. Despite the chill, sweat shone in the curls of his blue-black hair and beaded on his forehead. He hadn’t removed her sweaters, and the obvious size issues only heightened his long, lanky look. “Wood’s chopped up. You didn’t ask, but I split about a third of it into smaller pieces for starting.”

  She looked out the window to confirm that he had, in fact, done what he’d said. The fresh-cut wood had been stacked at the far end of the log pile, so it would have time to dry further before they burned their way down to it. “Nicely done.”

  He grinned and let out a “You’re welcome” before crossing over to scratch Nujalik’s sides. The wolf immediately rolled over to present her belly for rubs and provided an array of embarrassingly enthusiastic noises. Bright notes of the wolf’s contented joy splashed like yellow starshine in her awareness, as if she was telling Chen, See? All this could be yours.

  Annoyance snuffed out the wolf’s joy. Nujalik could afford to let go and live in the moment. Chen had second and third thoughts about everything, made sure she had considered the outcomes of a situation and positioned herself to best protect the people she cared about. That part of her didn’t just turn off when they weren’t in combat.

  Right now, she included herself in the people-she-cared-about category. She didn’t begrudge Nujalik her joy, but the wolf didn’t understand that Priddy had an ulterior motive. She’d seen the way he stroked the animal—long, slender fingers checking for injury and deformity. Hands searching for a reason to put the wolf under the knife again.

  Priddy caught her gaze, his eyes warm and dark as they found her. “I know I keep saying thank you for taking me in, but—”

  “You should know,” she cut him off before he could say whatever he’d intended. “You’ll have to sleep on the couch. Nujalik is a bed hog, and she takes up a lot of space.” Might as well rip that bandage off now.

  He blushed, the skin of his cheeks darkening in a display she had to remind he
rself wasn’t cute. “Oh, good. That’s what I’d been about to offer. So, I’m glad we agree. I’d love to use the shower though, if that’s possible.” He sniffed at his armpit with a grimace. “The exertion is nice, but it clearly doesn’t suit me.”

  Chen thought the physical exertion suited him perfectly fine, showcasing his wiry strength. “Of course. And there are extra blankets. Since you won’t have the advantage of a certain fluffy bed warmer.” The idea of him wet and naked in her shower prompted another array of thoughts best left unpursued.

  Nujalik huffed and gave her an upside-down grin, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

  “Yes, I mean you, you big goof.”

  The wolf rolled back onto her belly and gave a couple of sneezes that Priddy was too slow to avoid.

  “Ugh.” He laughed. “Now I definitely need a shower.”

  Chen noticed he wasn’t in any hurry to stop playing with the wolf that had just snotted all over him. “I’ll get the towels set up for you.” She was thankful she’d cleaned the shower after removing Elena’s collection of jams and jellies. The last thing she needed was for Priddy to question them, or worse think she liked the overly floral and fruity concoctions.

  She was many things, but girly was not typically one of the words she associated with. The realization that she cared, even a little, about how Priddy thought of her, or that she wanted him to see the real her, was annoying. A frustrating temptation that in other situations might even have been welcome, but not here, and not now.

  And not with the person who had endangered Nujalik and could still take the wolf away for surgery. Not that she wanted Nujalik in pain, either. But if the surgery further damaged the wolfbond... Chen didn’t want to think about that outcome.

  She grabbed the top two towels and a washcloth, double-checked the shower to make sure no trace of Elena remained, and headed back to the living room.

  Eight

  Finding sleep bordered on impossible. Every time Javad closed his eyes, he saw his family. He needed to get off the mountain and be somewhere he could help them as soon as possible. Guilt plucked his nerves like a harpist, warming up for a solo. There was no good solution, and the day left him feeling plenty of remorse about leaving Chen and Nujalik to their fate as well. With no good solution, he tossed and flopped on the couch in an effort to find a fleeting bit of comfort. When sleep finally came, it was the shallow, dreamless sleep of exhaustion.

  When he woke, the sun still hadn’t risen, and the ruddy glow seeping out of the stove’s grate did little to move the contents of the room out of shadow. Once his eyes had adjusted to the murk, he stretched his back and sat up. From the back of the cabin, he could hear a fine-pitched canine snore that made his heart glow. The need to leave warred with his desire to see Chen safe, until there was no point in trying to fight his way back to sleep; the rest of the house would be awake long before he’d managed, and his mind was already torn midway between Farhope and Khonsu.

  Javad flowed into a stand, shifting through the forms of a moving meditation as much to settle his mind as work the blood back into his stiff muscles. Back on the Cry, he’d have hit the treadmill. Morning runs were his favorite and cleared his head for the day. He glanced at the cabin door. It was theoretically possible to run outside, but the dark, the unfamiliar landscape, and above all the cold smothered the idea before he could entertain it for long.

  At least he could do something about one of those. Javad picked up a few smaller pieces of wood and fed them into the stove. Gentle breath brought the coals back to life, and in a matter of moments flames were eagerly licking at the new logs. He gave a bit of quiet thanks to his mother for all the times she’d made him manage the enormous wood oven at the restaurant. Between learning the most efficient way to split logs and knowing how to keep a fire banked, the lessons had already come in handy.

  Which reminded him why he was up. He’d noticed a few things in the kitchen when Chen had asked him to check the food supply. He may not have many skills outside the clinic, but his parents had made sure he had one good one. He started toward the kitchen.

  The second he stepped off the living room rug onto the cold slate floor, a chill shot up his leg. The surprise almost ripped a squeal from him, and he only barely managed to swallow it back. Screaming the house awake in the dark hours was a bad idea at the best of times. When your housemates were a prickly special forces soldier and her highly trained combat wolf? Even worse.

  Also, there was no doubt that rousing them would drain away any goodwill he’d earned in the last twelve hours.

  He went back and pushed one more log into the fire, then adjusted the vents to control the burn. By the time he’d finished prepping ingredients, the stovetop should be plenty hot enough for him to whip up a decent breakfast.

  Cooking had always been his comfort space. His mother had instilled a love of both the science and artistry at an early age. After months on the Cry, where fabricators reigned supreme, the ability to make real food with actual ingredients felt like a guilty pleasure. That he could, hopefully, repay some of Chen’s kindness with a fresh meal only made it better. Whatever the day held, he needed to go, so a table full of thank you would be a perfect gift.

  He found yogurt in the fridge and flour on the countertop in a sealed container. Two out of three. Not a bad start. He opened the pantry and scanned the shelves. One box was obviously out of place, in more ways than one. The sharp fruity smell was completely different from the musty earthiness of the rest of the cabin, and with a self-conscious scowl he pulled out the box and set it on the counter.

  It was filled with half-used shampoos and bath gels, the source of the aroma, and he chuckled at the idea that Chen had a secret love of floral scents that she saved for the cabin. He checked the labels. Kanaloa Nights had a tropical smell that conjured up images of the namesake water world. Skybridge Grove carried hints of citrus and clove like the spice-oranges for which Farhope was famous. Each bottle was more flowery than the first and felt less like the Chen he’d come to know. And then he found a toothbrush, old and flared with use. And a cloth scrunchie, the long pale hair clinging to it decidedly not Chen’s.

  His amusement melted into cold shame. The scents didn’t seem like Chen’s because they weren’t hers. Some past lover, who Chen had boxed up and set aside. Someone who’d been enough a part of Chen’s life that they had left their mark in the cabin. In every room, from the looks of the box. The idea that he was prying, ripping open Chen’s private life, made him feel dirty in a way that no shower was going to scrub clean. He closed the box back up and returned it to the pantry.

  The baking powder was stuffed to the left of the stranger’s things, and he grabbed it out of the pantry, happy to have something else he could focus his attention on. His mom would be horrified. Nobody had written the purchase date on the package. The dust on the container certainly wasn’t a good sign, but Javad decided to go with hope.

  He took a mixing bowl out of the cabinet and shook a pile of the white powder into the bottom, then hit the button on Chen’s auto-kettle. As soon as the light flashed red, he poured a splash of the boiling water onto the baking powder and held his breath. For a heartbeat, he thought the baking powder was dead and useless, then bubbles foamed up as it reacted to the heat and moisture. He wiped out the bowl and gathered the rest of his supplies.

  Three ingredients, his mother had taught him. That was all you needed for a good flatbread. Everything else was just gilding.

  He mixed the yogurt, flour, and powder into a soft dough, patted a piece flat between his hands, and laid it directly on the stove’s iron top. Almost immediately, the familiar aroma of cooking bread filled the air. It smelled like his parents’ restaurant, and the pang of memory that thumped in his chest carried with it the guilt of knowing he was delaying his departure and jeopardizing their safety.

  This was a thank you, he reminded himself. Because Chen kept him safe. Because she’d shared her shelter when he’d been trapped up
here. That’s all it was.

  All it could be.

  He flipped the bread too soon and it tore. His mother swore that the first flatbread of the day was always a waste, that you had to lose the first one to get used to the day’s inconsistencies in humidity, heat, and the like. Personally, he’d always assumed she just liked the privilege of eating that first piece. Certainly, his dad and mom had never begrudged her that.

  A soft blur pressed into his leg, sending a wave of calm through him. Javad tore off a piece of the bread and fed it to the umbra wolf with a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t tell your partner, okay?”

  “Don’t tell me what?” A sleepy-sounding Chen padded out of the bedroom at the end of the hall. It was the first time he’d seen her in something other than battle dress, and the voluminous flannel pajamas looked both perfectly comfy and utterly alien on her. Baggier than her uniforms aboard the Hunting Cry and yet endlessly more sexy because of how intimate it was, how easily he could imagine the body beneath.

  With gritted teeth he looked back to the next flatbread, pulling the perfectly bubbled and brown circle off the stove and slapping another one down in its wake.

  She flopped down onto the couch. “Is that fresh bread?” The respect in her voice was like an addictive drug, and he wanted to chase after it.

  Javad shrugged. “I told you, my parents own a restaurant on Khonsu. I worked there from the time I could stand up.”

  “Pretty sure that violates child labor laws.”

  He grinned. “Pretty sure my parents didn’t care. When you’ve got a precocious child, too curious and too smart for his own good, you kept him busy however you could.”

  “Well, next time I’m on Khonsu, I’ll have to thank them.” Chen yawned and stretched. “I don’t suppose you made tea?”

  “I hadn’t yet. I didn’t want it to be cold when you woke up.” He walked into the kitchen, refilling the kettle from the tap before starting it up. “Flip that for me?”