Chapter 3 #2
Finishing, she ran her hands through his shortened hair to check for anything she’d missed. It looked good, but she was hesitant to move. The green eyes that had watched her while she worked on the front of his hair fluttered closed. It felt like an invitation.
Continuing her ministrations, she ran her fingers through the short golden strands. Raiden sighed and leaned into her touch, much the way Neka had earlier. The pure affection filled her with an odd sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time, couldn’t name.
After playing with his hair for a moment, she instinctively moved her fingers down the back of his neck with slow, gentle movements. What felt like years of tension began to ease from his neck. He melted under her hands. It wouldn’t surprise her if he started purring at any second like her owlcat.
His skin radiated warmth, the heat of him shocking her to realize that she hadn’t been this close to a man in a very long time. To any person, actually. But the bare skin beneath her fingers stirred something possessive deep inside her.
Enjoying the gift of touch with someone she was coming to care for, she ignored the warning bells in her mind. Running the palms of her hands over his collarbone and down his good shoulder, she felt heat spark between them.
“Daya,” he breathed her name.
Her insides danced at his tone, her ribs feeling lighter than air.
“Hmm?” She couldn’t form words at the moment.
“If you keep going, I’m going to kiss you.”
The stroke of his hand along her leg sent a shockwave of feeling through her. Her hands tightened in his hair, and she felt him smile where his head was pressed against her chest.
When she leaned back, eyes of green fire met hers and beckoned her closer. She complied, chasing the spark of desire until they were sharing the same breath.
“Anaiah.”
The whispered endearment teased her lips, and her heart stuttered.
“Raiden.” She reminded herself that he was injured. His memory gone. Afraid of his mysteriously shadowed past. “We can’t.”
Leaning back, he moved his hand up to settle comfortably at her hip. Oh, how she wanted that touch to become familiar.
Staring into his soulful gaze, she fought to regain her logic. “You could have a mate somewhere waiting for you.”
“I don’t.” His denial was firm and confident.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“I do.” His brows dipped in frustration. “But I don’t know why I’m so certain.”
The bright flames he was eliciting deflated quickly at the reminder of his lost memories, and his hand left her side to rub over his heart.
She believed him but wasn’t willing to risk it. A convenient excuse that also kept her heart safe. Instead of stepping back, she leaned into him and hugged him. His arm wound tightly around her, holding her to him.
“I just want to be Raiden for a while until I recover. Not a damaged warrior threatened by memories.” His voice was a strained plea, making her guess that he’d awoken to a nightmare like the numerous flashes he’d had on the journey.
The harsh reality seemed to settle like a cloak over him, and she wished she could ease it from his shoulders. Unfortunately, she had a feeling they’d be happening more and more as his mind healed.
“What did you see?” she asked.
“Violence, death.” He shuddered. “I don’t want it to darken your home.”
Tightening her arms, she encouraged him to lean into her. As he did, she caught sight of something she hadn’t noticed before when she’d been focused on his hair.
A small tattoo inked his shoulder blade—a sword crossed with a lightning bolt. A single spot of color shone dark purple on the hilt of the sword, reminiscent of the real version he’d been holding when she found him. There was something very formal about the image that tugged at her mind.
“Do you think it’s a bad sign that I’m afraid to get my memories back?”
“Why would you fear them?” Letting go of him, Daya stepped back and met his eyes. Something in that dream had to have made him wary.
“Eldridge is crawling with mercenaries—they outnumber the actual military.” His expression flickered with pain, revealing the depth of his concern.
“And then there’s this.” He took a small, circular object out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“I don’t recognize it, not specifically.
But my gut says it’s a nasty bit of evidence. ”
The notion of him as a sword for hire was completely irrational, but then, fear rarely stemmed from logic. The medallion in her hand made no sense based on what she’d seen of him.
“It’s a contract coin,” she said carefully.
Most often used by the more notorious mercenary bands, the coins were a very old practice.
She didn’t have a ton of modern knowledge, but her ancient knowledge was better than most. Very few of those organized groups still existed, but she was holding the call sign of one of the largest, most ruthless groups.
“With who?” Raiden pressed when she remained silent.
“The Vipers.” She sighed as she handed it back, knowing he would use it as an excuse to see himself negatively. “They’re—”
“Assassins.”
That was undeniably true, though they thrived on all types of violence. Or they did, historically, anyway. She didn’t bother denying it.
“You won’t know what it means until you get your memories back. Don’t let it haunt you in the meantime.” Reaching out, she caressed his jaw. “You’re a good man, Raiden. Believe me if you don’t believe yourself.”
He stared up at her for a moment, turmoil slowly receding from his eyes. Finally, the tension in his shoulders eased and his smile broadened with a mischievous glint, completely altering the energy flowing around them.
“Think you could tame me like one of your hawks?”
His full grin made her breath stutter and halt, trapping her response. And he thought his blade skills made him dangerous? He was wrong. Very, very wrong. That infectious smile was lethal.
Daya’s lips twitched in response to the playful glow of his eyes. “I don’t know, you’re pretty hardheaded.”
“Mmm… I think I’d make a decent hunter.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “I don’t tame the hawks, though, just temper them into partners and hone their skills. Their wild instincts never change.”
The beautiful light dimmed from his eyes, and she immediately regretted her words. “Whatever you are, you’re a protector, Raiden. Those instincts are what’s under your skills.”
Stretching up, his hand settled on her neck as if she were the gentlest of creatures he wanted to touch without frightening. Nothing could be further from the truth, but she enjoyed the touch. He traced over the nearly healed scratch along her throat.
She curled her hand over his.
“I’ve witnessed a lot of malice and darkness over the years.
You’re nothing like that. Even at your worst moment, you radiate protectiveness.
” Seeing the frown forming on his face, she continued before he could think too hard.
“Whatever you’re trained to do, why you chose to develop these skills, I know that much. Trust me.”
“I do.” He smiled, though it was barely a flicker of the joy from a moment before. “Thank you, Daya.”
Weariness crept into his eyes, but with it was a sense of peace, like he was relieved to share a heavy burden.
Her heart clenched, that he should bear that weight alone.
She knew instinctively that she was seeing the man beneath the shield.
His injuries and their unusual circumstances likely encouraging him to drop the countenance he presented to the world.
She understood that.
Being a guardian meant forever being alone. In exchange for her sacrifice and the dedication of her life, she’d received gifts of the mountain’s magic and an extended lifespan.
Already, she’d spent over a hundred solitary years, fighting to keep the faith that their people would come back to the light.
Until they did, she would safeguard their ancient knowledge and their magic.
It was happening, just at an infinitesimal rate.
More children were born each year with magic, a positive thing that was causing destructive waves of upheaval as all the realms struggled to adapt.
Raiden gave her cheek a final caress that had her heart galloping. Pulling away from the temptation of her golden sky hunter, she helped him rise from the railing.
Each step seemed to take more effort for him, and she found herself bearing much more of his weight than she had before.
“You may have been right,” he rasped as they moved slowly toward the house.
“Do us both a favor and remember that, will you?”
The low sound of his chuckle made her shiver. He grinned when she hazarded a look at him.
As they crossed the threshold into her house, she decided the best course of action was avoidance.
Otherwise, she’d give in and set herself up for heartbreak.
Raiden’s existence in her life would be fleeting as the rare snowstorm the mountain received.
He couldn’t stay with her, much as his presence was a balm to her lonely spirit.
Wandering to the room Raiden had temporarily claimed as his, Daya knocked and pushed the ajar door fully open.
After sleeping most of another day, he’d finally risen for a few hours. The time he’d spent outdoors with her and Neka the day before had sapped his strength. She figured he must be starving and had cooked a fresh meal for him.
Entering the room, she found him sitting at the small desk, intently focused on some parchment drawings he’d made.
The drawings—though rudimentary, given he was using his non-dominant hand to write—seemed to help him process the nightmares that plagued his sleep and the snippets of memory that haunted his waking hours.
She moved to his side so as not to startle him from behind.
“I’ve made a meal if you’re hungry.”
“I am, thanks.” His attempt to rise was short-lived, and he stumbled out of the chair.
“Raiden!” Grabbing him, she hauled him upright and shoved her shoulder under his arm. She helped him the rest of the way until he was able to drop onto the bed.
“You don’t look good. Something’s wrong.”
He smiled weakly at her. “You were the one wielding the scissors yesterday.”
Rolling her eyes at his incessant humor, she felt his skin. The heat radiating from him matched the flushed coloring and racing heartbeat. His green eyes darkened to emerald as they glazed over with fever.
“Weapons. Over there.” Raiden’s gaze flicked behind her to the desk he’d been sitting at. “Keep them away from me. Mind’s getting hazy.”
Pulse drumming in her ears, she tore away the bandage covering the worst wound on his abdomen.
“Zevat.” Her whisper blended with Raiden’s as the wound was revealed.
The infection seeped from his side, angry streaks outlining the injury. She’d cleaned and stitched it the best she could on the journey, afraid he’d bleed out if she waited.
Raiden hissed and jerked when she touched the inflamed skin.
Her mind raced through her stock of herbs, sorting out what she had immediately available to help him. Infections could quickly turn deadly if not treated properly.
Labored breathing pulled her attention up just in time see him slump back on the bed, the need for healing sucking him into unconsciousness.