Chapter 14
“So… you live with your grandma?” Lowell asks between labored breaths. The blood bag remains firmly in his arm, the hemorrhaging wound stable for now. While I don’t have much faith it’ll hold, he’s in much better shape than forty-five minutes ago.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I reply, stabbing into the cut above his eye with a needle and thread.
Lowell winces, his tone curt. “You said to keep my mind off the pain. That’s what I’m doing.”
“I assumed you’d do it in your head,” I say. Snipping off the excess thread, I tie the suture above his eyebrow into a tight knot. As the pattern closes the scales, a pained hiss draws from his lips.
Frowning, Lowell lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Indulge a dying man, will you?”
I can’t help but crack a smile. He’s oddly dramatic and a huge coward when it comes to pain. But I suppose that’s because it’s an unfamiliar feeling for him.
“‘I know everything about you that has been written,’ or something like that,” I mock, tapping my chin in thought. “That’s what you said, right? So what else do I need to ‘indulge’ you with? I’d just be boring you.”
Lowell glares, hot puffs of air blowing from his flared nostrils. “Oh, come on. You know what I meant. Your birth records, jobs, addresses — any form you’ve ever filled out. I know little about your real life or interests.”
“And you suddenly care now? Why should I tell you something so personal?” I ask. My tone comes out harsher than I intended, and I regret it immediately.
A tenderness falls over Lowell’s face, his usual egotistical bravado drowned in cold sweat and desperation. “Please, May. I’m in so much pain, give me something to focus on.” His gaze finds mine, the amber gems glistening in the lamplight. “Please,” he says, his voice nothing but a gentle whisper.
I initially don’t believe him. His unusual begging for details about my personal life seems like an obvious ploy to upset me.
But the longer I stare at him, the more the scars along his chest and face seem to deepen, his massive biceps seem to shrink, and his movements become more twitchy and uncontrolled.
It’s then I realize that his shaking is not just from blood loss. He’s scared. While this delights me at first, I feel the sinking twinge of pity rolling around in my stomach.
I guess it couldn’t hurt to reveal a bit of myself. But only a bit.
With a begrudging exhale, I cross my arms. “Lived with Grandma; she passed away many years ago. She raised me like a daughter.” I pause, recalling painful memories stored at the back of my mind to the forefront.
It hurts less than I remember, and I’m grateful for the passage of time.
I don’t think I’d live it down if I cried in front of Lowell.
“My parents were traveling artists, so I never saw them. I stopped trying to contact them after my eighteenth birthday. I have no idea if they are even still alive,” I finish.
I flick the blood bag tube, urging the liquid to keep moving.
Lowell pinches his lips together, his head turned away from the bag. I thought he’d love the sight of blood, but it turns out he’s unafraid of all but his own.
“They never tried to contact you after your grandma died?” he asks, eyes darting back and forth from the needle in his arm to the side of the tent. The scales of his face pale slightly.
“Nope,” I reply, placing extra medical tape over the needle to make it more secure.
“Leaving a kid with a monster-hunter was pretty bold of your parents,” he says, attempting to adjust his wounded leg. I catch it in my hands, shaking my head.
“No moving. I just got it closed,” I scold him, still straddling his lap.
Lowell frowns, uncomfortably wiggling where he lies. “Yeah, yeah. Just keep talking.”
Pressing down on his fidgeting leg, I continue.
“My parents didn’t care what happened to me, only that I was out of their way.
I didn’t mind it though, I loved my childhood with Grandma.
She was hard on me, but I was better for it.
She taught me how to garden, paint, build shelters, and become self-sufficient.
She’s why I know so much about biology and conservation…
as well as how to defend myself. Especially against Lizardfolk,” I tease, the tip of my tongue pressing to the roof of my mouth.
Lowell’s mouth slides ajar, one corner of his lips quirked. “So, it wasn’t just a lucky blow back then, huh?”
I smile bashfully. “No such thing.”
Becoming serious, his face contorts as if he were piecing together a complex riddle. “So if your grandma was a monster-hunter — an outlaw contracted by the government — when did you become a rule-abiding killjoy? From an outlaw’s granddaughter to a pushover subordinate. How sad.”
I shrink at his harsh words, the truthful concept of Grandma being an outlaw one I tend to try to forget.
“It’s not—” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“My background is complicated. Grandma was always at risk of Nilsan revoking her contract, meaning she’d have been arrested the moment it wasn’t approved for renewal.
She was perpetually at the mercy of the government, forced to abide by their rules while assuming none of the benefits of citizenship.
We were only allowed to legally enter Nilsan on the first day of each month to purchase supplies.
” I look down at my hands, picking at the skin on the side of my thumbs.
“There was a dark fear beneath Grandma’s optimistic demeanor that she thought I didn’t notice, a deep-seated regret she only voiced when she was alone. ”
Lowell cocks his head, his focus remaining on my face.
“Grandma hated being an outsider and didn’t want the same for me,” I say, a lump in my throat.
“She raised me to believe that laws were made for a reason and should be followed, even if she didn’t.
She told me that I should make change the right way, from the inside.
This way, I wouldn’t have to live the rest of my life in isolation and fear like she did. ”
“And you still believe that?” Lowell asks hesitantly.
I nod. “Well, yeah, it’s all I’ve ever known. Paperwork can be boring, but it’s the right way to achieve what I want. It’s important to me.”
“From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you had more fun as the child of an outlaw,” he snorts.
I squeeze my hands in my lap, delighted by a wave of nostalgia.
“In some ways, I did. Grandma used to take me on short expeditions between contracted hunts that would usually start as lessons in foraging for food but would end in her frantically teaching me which animals were venomous and which were not,” I giggle.
“But it could be difficult at times. When Grandma left for a hunt, I often wondered if it would be the last time I saw her,” I finish, my smile fading to a slight grin.
I don’t miss the worry, loneliness, or relieving anticipation of watching her caravan pull up to the house. While I miss her dearly, it was far from easy to live the way we did — without family or a community, just each other.
“Is that how she died?” Lowell asks bluntly.
I shake my head. “No, she retired and passed away peacefully at home from old age… clutching her crossbow,” I say, laughing. “She kept it in bed with her at night, and I’m happy to inform you that that tradition still holds strong.”
“You ladies sure love your crossbows. It’s adorable,” Lowell says, attempting to laugh but is stopped by pain. He groans, fighting the urge to move his leg. I don’t doubt that his muscles are stiff as stone, the twitches that rope beneath his scales tensing his jaw in reaction.
I brush over the exposed skin on Lowell’s stomach comfortingly, the soft scales feeling like silk beneath my dry fingertips. His flesh quivers like rouching fabric, his eyes connecting with mine. I don’t move my hand.
“What about your parents? Or whoever you call your family?” I ask, shrugging impishly. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about Lizardfolk culture.”
Lowell’s tail gently slaps against the ground a few times, but he doesn’t reply.
“Rough subject?” I say, dragging my touch over the scales of his abdomen again. I trace the indentation and valleys of his muscles, his abs toned and inhuman.
Lowell groans, but it doesn’t sound pained. He suddenly snatches my wrist, my hand now swallowed in the expanse of his palms.
“Oh, come on, I shared. It’s your turn,” I prod.
He swallows a lump in his throat before speaking in a soft voice. “No, um, it’s not that.” His deep scales flush a shade of crimson, the contrast striking. “It’s just that, uh, you should stop touching me like that.” A wet tongue slides over his lips. “You’re turning me on.”
My gaze slides from Lowell’s abdomen to his partially exposed groin. Through the mess of bloodied cloth and torn pants, between his legs, lay a large, throbbing, partial erection.
My cheeks burn.
“I didn’t think sharing my sad past would warrant this kind of reaction,” I jest, electricity shooting down my spine to my core. From where I’m sitting, my groin is inches from his, only one flick of my hips away from contact.
Lowell averts his eyes, face contorting in an embarrassed scowl. “Don’t be stupid. It has nothing to do with what you said.”
I bite down a smile, stroking his scales tauntingly. “Then where is this coming from? I won’t be mad with your response.”
The only reason I have the guts to taunt him like this is simple enough: He’s injured and can’t hurt me even if he wants to. Watching the wretched creature who has done nothing but torture me, writhing with longing beneath me? Satisfying beyond belief.
Clearing his throat, his Adam’s apple bobs along the expanse of his throat. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” His words come out strained, the blush sliding down to his chest.
Lowell expressed in the past that his species is sexually aroused by resistance, but I’ve been nothing but vulnerable with him. His confusing behavior would concern me were it not dwarfed by the tantalizing amount of control in my hands.
Tentatively, I poke at the bulging erection.
Lowell’s breath hitches the moment I make contact. “Fucking stop that!” he growls, gripping my other hand. I’m yanked forward with a vice around my wrists, dangling such that my nose hovers inches above his.
When my wide eyes finally settle on his, it’s charged with a smothering heat. The flames that dance in Lowell’s glare sear my own, filled with lust and frenzy. Desire drips from my body like molten lava, my core throbbing and crying out for attention.
As his hot breath crawls over my neck and chest, the grip I have on my rigidity melts. Goosebumps break out all over and my hair stands on end.
I want him to touch me.
My mind has not made up its feelings towards Lowell, perpetually swinging between hatred and fondness like a pendulum. My body, however, has made its desires abundantly clear.
I trail a finger down the side of his waist to his hip bone.
Arching his back, Lowell shivers. “I said stop that,” he snarls.
“Make me,” I say, clicking my tongue against my teeth.
Lowell’s tone is deep and hissing, his jaw nearly cracking as it tightens. “You don’t want to go down this path again.” His nostrils flare, catching the aroma of my lust.
“What do you mean?” I deadpan, closing the gap by rolling my hips against his groin. Letting my face dip closer, our mouths are only a hairsbreadth away.
Lowell’s eyes are half-lidded, pinning pupils hidden beneath. “You’re a bad woman.”
I playfully scoff, pressing a hand to my chest. “Absolutely not. I’m a rule-abiding killjoy, remember?”
He blows air into my face, pushing away the stray hairs. “You don’t want to turn me on. I’m not always a gentle lover,” he warns, flashing his teeth playfully.
Pressing my tongue to the corner of my mouth, I blow air into his face just as he had done to me. I can tell he likes it by the way his skin quivers. It makes me grin. “You sure about that? You’re wounded, so I have the upper hand. You’re not so scary when you’re afraid for your life.”
Lowell’s gaze drops to my mouth, repeatedly swiping his tongues over his teeth. “Wounded or not, I’ll always be stronger. You really should have killed me when you had the chance.”
I follow his attention shift from my mouth to my neck. “You saved my crossbow, so I saved you in return. Nothing more,” I say with a shrug, noticing how his eyes dart to my chest as I do so.
Lowell’s angular features grow sharper as he tenses. “You and I both know that’s a lie. You’re too much of a coward to kill me,” he says, thumb delicately stroking my wrists.
It tickles, my hips wiggling over his groin.
Groaning, Lowell lifts his chin to nudge mine. Sweat builds along his brow bone, the thick swelter from the tension makes breathing difficult.
“Cocky to say for someone who couldn’t kill me, either,” I whisper, the words so faint I wonder if they even came out at all.
I’m a melted mess, saliva pooling at the back of my mouth. I don’t understand what attracts me to him like a bee to honey, but his touch alone is enough to draw me in further. His scales and sharp claws are not the deterrent they were most likely designed to be.
Lowell exhales a deep sigh, his eyes ravishing the exposed cleavage as I’m dipped to brush my nose with his. Control slips from my grasp, each heave of breath that floats from his lips seeming more inviting than the last.
Bumping me with his snout, he speaks in a hushed voice, “You know, I don’t care about this conversation anymore.”
I’m no longer in control as the amber flames consume me.
“Neither do I.”
Without letting another word pass between us, I crash my mouth against his.