10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
As expected, I have taken quite a ribbing from the Brethren after including the first “sexy bits” sequence of my story in quite some time. Some samples from tonight’s round of teasing, transcribed as close to verbatim as my memory allows, include:
Big Red: “Like it rough, eh? I can give you rough . . .”
Jim: “Not my type.”
Unknown pirate with very thin pencil mustache: “Can’t afford to be too picky out here in the black.”
Rumbeard: “Any port in a storm, fellas!”
Raucous laughter from all the men.
Unknown drunk pirate with modified, rainbow-colored eyes: “Nice creamy skin, she has. Smooth enough to bite.”
An awkward pause, then—
Man from the back of the room: “Show us yer tits!”
And so on, and so forth.
As might be surmised by this rousingly intellectual exchange, I was rather eager to make a hasty retreat back to my quarters.
Still, as annoying as this type of response from the men might be, it was better than when I’d first begun telling them my story and I’d been faced with that wall of hostile silence.
Not to mention those men who’d gathered outside of my cell.
The teasing is a positive shift, even if I might prefer a more silently contemplative response than a vulgarly verbal one. Their jesting means they might actually be seeing me as their guest, as human, perhaps even as their friend.
Never in my life have I sought such friendship. It makes me laugh sometimes to think what my mother might say if she knew I’d become an honored guest of the Brethren of Blood. Their token woman and storyteller.
Orion insisted on walking me back to my room. I braced myself for him to continue teasing me, but to my surprise, he seemed not at all interested in the story I’d just told—or at least, not interested in discussing it.
“You keeping your room locked at night?” he wanted to know as we walked down the corridor together. He seemed tense and wary, constantly checking behind us, as if to make certain we weren’t being followed.
“Yes.” I didn’t add, although I could have, that I wasn’t a simpleton; of course I kept my room locked.
But it seemed unwise to intentionally aggravate the man who’d been my advocate more than once with the rest of the Brethren, even if he’d never admit to as much.
“I do think the men are better behaved now, though. Don’t you?
I think they’re starting to see me as sort of a .
. . sisterly presence. A Wendy to their Lost Boys, if you will. ”1
Orion gave me a wry, condescending smile that instantly raised my hackles. “If it helps you sleep at night to think so, Doc. So long as you keep that door locked.”
I was glad he was facing me so he could see my gloriously theatrical eye roll. “People can change, you know. And they can surprise you.”
Seeming to find this point too ludicrous to even argue, he continued down the hallway. With no better alternative, I hurried to catch up.
“I think the Brethren are growing rather fond of me,” I persisted. “And I’m growing fond of them as well. They really aren’t so bad, once you get past the initial bloodlust—”
Orion turned, so quickly that I fell back instinctively, my back slamming up against the cold metal wall. He advanced on me, a furious expression in his eyes. He’d always struck me as being so stoic and mysterious, but now he looked positively enraged. Even—dare I say it?—dangerous.
“They are bad,” he told me darkly. “Don’t you ever forget it. Don’t you ever let your guard down. Not even for a moment.”
I stared at him, shocked—although I shouldn’t have been. By this point I really ought to have learned that lesson, the one I seemed incapable of understanding. That people, as a rule, can’t be trusted. That they will more often than not turn on you if they stand to get something out of it.
Only . . . it wasn’t a lesson I wanted to learn, not truly. Maybe I was simply being stupid by continuing to put my trust in others and hoping for the best. But what other choice is there, really? To be alone in this universe is the only truly unbearable thing.
That’s the lesson you taught me, my love. I wanted so badly to close myself down after my mother’s death. After Rawley’s . . . after Rawley. But you made sure I couldn’t. I had no choice but to open my heart to you, and once I did, I started to believe in the impossible again.
I wanted very much to contradict Orion, to show him how wrong he was, but I didn’t know how to. It was a feeling more than anything else. A hope. People couldn’t be all bad, not all of them.
As I tried to find the right words, though, it struck me for the first time just how near Orion was.
He had one arm braced on the wall next to me, and he was leaning in so close that I could see the exact color of his eyes—dark brown, with unexpected swirls of a lighter color. Amber. Unmodified, but rather lovely.
Not long after, Orion seemed to reach the same awareness of our proximity. Something shifted in his gaze. He blinked. His eyes darted down to my lips.
Drawing in a sharp breath, I pushed away from the wall and hustled down the corridor. I could see my door, just a few yards away now. I forced my tone to be determinedly cheerful and oblivious. “Scold me all you like, but I refuse to only see the bad in people. Take you, for example.”
“Me?” he returned flatly.
Knowing he was likely goading me with that tone, I ignored it and pressed on. “You’re a member of the Brethren, and you’ve been so very kind to me.”
Orion huffed. “I’m not that kind,” he muttered.
Reaching my door, I made myself turn back to face him. Then I smiled, brightly and blandly, as if I’d felt nothing from that earlier exchange. Perhaps if I just ignored it, it would go away on its own.2 “Well, you’ve kept me safe, and you’ve been my friend. And I’m grateful to you for it.”
I could see he was about to downplay the ways he’d helped me, as he always did when I tried to thank him for it. This time, though, I shook my head at him. “No. You have. And you are my friend, aren’t you?”
A long moment passed. Then Orion sighed, relenting. “Yeah, Doc. I’m your friend.”
We were back on familiar ground now. I sighed, my body sagging with relief, though I tried not to let the emotion show on my face. Some things were easier not to acknowledge. “Good. Now, tell me truthfully—do you still think I’m making this whole story up?”
Orion laughed. “Without a doubt.”
My jaw dropped in mock outrage. “How dare you! Everything I’ve described has been completely plausible—because it’s all completely true.”
He leaned against the doorframe, rolling his eyes. “I believe most of it. But not Ursa. At least, not the way you’ve told him.” Anticipating my squawk of indignation, he pressed on, “You have to give the guy some flaws.”
“Ursa has flaws,” I objected. “He has . . . chest hair. Vitamin D deficiency.”
Orion did not look the slightest bit convinced. “I don’t buy it. He’s so obviously made up by a woman.”
“How so?”
That dangerous thing, which I was very much trying to ignore, was glimmering back in Orion’s eyes once again. “You’re telling me he had you in bed with him, naked, after days of being apart, and didn’t fuck you senseless?”
It was the emphasis on you. He wasn’t just saying “no heterosexual man would have a woman in his bed without being overcome with passion.” He was implying that I, specifically, could wield this sort of sensual power over a man.
Which was, patently, ridiculous, but I could see he didn’t mean for it to be. That to him, it was true.
Oh.
Oh.
My mouth ran dry and my palms broke out in sweat. Oh, no. The unsaid things between us charged through the air like an electrical current. Orion was smiling, but his eyes were not. With just a little prompting, I knew I could get him to say the rest.
Instead, I said nothing. After a moment, Orion took in a breath, then reached forward to rap his knuckles on my door. “Lock it behind me,” he said.
I did, happily.
1. A reference to the classic twentieth-century play Peter Pan, which has since been adapted into various novels, films, and most recently, a galaxy-net reality dating series—Neverland Island.
2. Maybe not the soundest strategy, but always worth a try!