8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Once in my quarters, I quickly discarded all of my other winnings—comparatively worthless, when I was holding such an important treasure—and set up the sunlamp.
Ursa was still fast asleep, but he’d been lethargic for so long, I didn’t have to worry about accidentally disturbing him.
I decided to aim the lamp’s beam directly at his face; later, once he had recovered, we would need to find a different method, since the brightness would keep us awake.
But for now, at least, I wanted to expose his skin to as much of the light as possible.
For a long time after the lamp was set up, I just sat and watched Ursa sleep. Those lovely, long lashes and his full, soft lips. The strong jaw and nose, his dark beard that would be in need of another trimming soon.
“You’ll be well in no time,” I told him quietly.
Most likely, he couldn’t hear me, but on the off chance he could, I wanted him to know I was there.
That I was fixing things. That soon everything would be better.
I tried to keep my voice bright but found it was becoming quite thick with emotion. “No time at all.”
Then I crawled into bed with him. Normally, I took the little spoon position. But I didn’t want to block any part of his face or chest from absorbing the energy of the sunlamp, and anyway, we all need to be held every now and then, don’t we?
So I crawled behind Ursa and curled my body up against his. I’m here, I told him with my nearness. And just to make sure he got the message, I whispered it out loud, once, too. “I’m here, Ursa. It’s all going to be all right.”
It didn’t take long for the sunlamp to do its job.
Well, at the time, it felt excruciatingly long.
I think some part of me had hoped that I’d wake up in the morning to find Ursa back to his usual self.
That didn’t happen, unfortunately, but he did open his eyes and attempt to smile at me, which I took to be a very good sign.
More importantly, he ate a few bites of the breakfast I brought him and drank some more of the poolwater I had in my pack.
The important thing was, the sunlamp was working.
I decided more of Ursa’s skin would need to be in contact with the lamp’s beam.
That was really the only reason that I stripped him out of his jumpsuit, although I know the Brethren will be very excited to hear about this turn of events.
They’ve been grumbling that there isn’t nearly enough of the “sexy stuff” in this portion of the story thus far, which I find a bit irritating.
Are Ursa and I just puppets, meant to frolic for their entertainment?
Our love was more than that, far more. My only focus was making sure he was healthy.
Well . . . my main focus was certainly making sure he was healthy. I suppose it wouldn’t be entirely truthful to say I was immune to Ursa lying naked in the bed we shared together. His body so big and broad and . . . masculine.
To be clear, I was worried, very worried, about his recovery and his health. But it had been quite some time since we'd been, ah, alone together. And despite my earlier objections, I found that I still very much craved Ursa’s touch. The soft pressure of his lips on my skin. His—
No, I didn’t seem to be entirely cured of the hormone-driven wildness that had overtaken me down on Earth.
Then again, one could hardly say a smuggling ship was civilized society.
I reassured myself that perhaps this was why I still felt so physically drawn to Ursa.
Once we were back in the Havens, I was sure I’d relearn how to control myself.
But that was neither here nor there. Ursa was unwell, and my only focus was on ensuring his skin came into as much contact with the sunlamp as possible.
I would check on him regularly throughout the day, of course, but it was important that I kept up appearances around the ship—especially since people were starting to notice, and comment on, Ursa’s absence.
I was covering all of Ursa’s cleaning and cooking duties, so there was no reason for anyone to grumble .
. . yet. But the only reason Tobago had allowed Ursa on the ship was because he was meant to be stronger and faster and more agile than anyone else onboard.
If he could no longer live up to that promise . . .
Who was to say what might happen to him?
I’d done my best to avoid Tobago as much as possible when Ursa became comatose. I felt no compunction about lying to the rest of the crew, but Tobago was the captain, and one of my oldest friends. He would definitely be able to sniff out a falsehood.
News from the poker game the previous evening must have reached him, though, because he cornered me as I was coming off of toilet-scrubbing duty.1 “I heard you’ve been looking for sunlamps for Ursa,” he told me. “Is there something I need to know?”
Had Val told him? Or Croydon? Then I knew immediately who it must have been: LeFleur, the little blabbermouth. I smiled brightly at Tobago, as if I had scarcely a concern in the world. “One sunlamp. Not multiple. And it’s all sorted now, thank you.”
I retreated, hoping that might be the end of it, but Tobago’s voice caught me. “I haven’t seen Ursa out of the room for a few days now.” He raised an eyebrow at me, completely deadpan. “Tell me the truth. Did you eat him?”
Reluctantly, I turned back to face him, ignoring that last question, since I assumed he was being facetious. “It’s all sorted now.” And since that was most likely true, I only barely winced as I said it.
Tobago took a step toward me. He did not look happy. “We reach Newearth in three days. I’m planning for Ursa to be part of my team for the job we have waiting there.”
“He’ll be ready,” I told Tobago, nodding as if in confirmation of my own statement.
And he would be. I hoped. I prayed.2
Tobago’s eyes remained narrowed as he searched my face. “See that he is.”
1. Believe me, I wish that was a euphemism.
2. Yes, I was actually that desperate.