Chapter 18
Jasmine
I woke with a deep sigh and a feeling of well-being I couldn’t recall ever feeling before.
Certainly not over the past few days, when my body had been put through the wringer in the worst sort of ways.
I stretched, my eyes refusing to open in case this was all a dream. I didn’t want the feeling to go away.
The warm scent that filled my lungs was male, a little salty, but with a hint of tantalizing sweetness.
I knew it instantly and rolled to burrow closer with a deep, satisfied inhale.
There wasn’t even the slightest twinge in my leg, heck, even the dull ache I’d had in my knee from an old fall was gone. That healer—he’d done top-notch work.
“You’re awake, Jasmine. I know you are,” Ekkire drawled from somewhere right above my head.
Though I didn’t really want to rise further into wakefulness, my mind answered the lure of his deep, slightly grumpy voice.
He sounded like he was reprimanding me for not looking at him right away, and it made my belly curl with warmth.
That was so him, to sound inconvenienced when he was really concerned.
“Five more minutes,” I said, which I probably hadn’t said in at least ten years.
Not since I was a teenager who hated school and being trapped indoors.
I stretched again, feeling all the places where we touched: his arm beneath my head, his hand on my waist, and the coils of his tail tangled with my legs.
There were furs over us, and more of them cushioning our bodies.
Warmth filled the space, much of it radiating from him.
I gave in and opened my eyes, and discovered we were inside a small, primitive tent.
The space was lit by the golden glow of his sigils.
His eyes were chips of bright emerald that began to warm as he met my gaze.
“I was worried about you,” he admitted huskily.
“I’m not used to that… Ish said you had an infection that started with a cut on your ankle.
Any longer without healing, and it could have damaged the healing bone.
Once we get to Haven, I’m going to insist on learning how to use a healing device before we go anywhere. ”
Oh, wow, I was not awake enough to be told all that.
Ekkire rarely talked more than absolutely necessary, and I was a little overwhelmed by the information.
Infection? Yeah, I’d realized I’d gotten one, but I hadn’t even realized it was from cuts on my leg, not the break itself.
It sounded… bad. Closer than I wanted to cut it. Much closer.
Then his last words began to sink in, and I realized how, well, for lack of a better word, definitive they sounded—like he was already planning for a future that had me in it.
Yet at the same time, uncertainty made me think I could just be misinterpreting it.
He was so independent; he’d made it clear he had never thought he’d share his life with another, that his lifestyle was unsuited for it.
This brush with death… and I knew it was one; an untreated infection could have easily killed me or left me crippled for life.
He was only going to think I was fragile all over again, and that I couldn’t be risked out in the wilds of Serant.
“Well, it’s lucky we ran into them, I guess.
Where are we?” It was clearly a tent, and I was pretty sure Ekkire hadn’t carried one of those earlier.
The furs were his; I recognized the one tucked beneath my chin.
It had a very distinct streak of pale lavender along the edge.
“And where are Dove and the other sleara?” I wasn’t sure if he had a name yet, but I was certain he was a permanent fixture.
“With Ish,” Ekkire murmured. “It took some convincing, but once he made a nest with Dove’s stick collection, she was appeased.
I think Hunter’s protectiveness helped her settle.
” So he’d named the blue guy, had he? I liked that; it implied he’d bonded with the sleara the way I had with Dove.
He probably would deny it, but I could hear the affection for them in his voice. Damn it, I liked that so much.
“Hunter, is it?” I teased. Then my stomach rumbled, and I wondered how long it had been since I’d last eaten.
There was darkness outside our small tent; I could see a sliver of starry sky through a crack in the tent flap.
The rustling of the wind through the trees told me we were still in the forest that covered this mountainside.
Was this the clearing where we’d encountered those Sun Fang warriors?
“Yes, that was an accident, but it fits,” Ekkire chuckled, and I cherished that rusty sound of amusement.
“After you were healed, you needed rest. I carried you as we traveled. Darkness fell as we reached a treacherous pass that needs daylight to traverse after the rock slide. So we’ve made camp.
” That meant we were still with the Sun Fang party, still traveling to the outpost to render assistance.
I was relieved. Ekkire hadn’t turned back to rush me to Haven when he’d discovered the extent of my injuries.
Was that a vote of confidence or just pragmatism?
Ekkire slid a little closer, his coils shifting and pressing against my legs.
I relished the feelings he evoked with that touch, the settling of weight across my limbs.
It didn’t hurt, not even a little, proving that my leg was healed.
Not just my leg—the extensive bruising had also vanished without a trace.
This guy, Ish, he’d done an absolutely marvelous job.
“I have come to realize I would not have liked to continue this journey without you, Jasmine,” Ekkire whispered.
The warmth of his breath ghosted over my face.
I tilted my chin a tad up, and now I could almost kiss the edge of his.
The sharp ivory horn that jutted from his jaw gleamed in the glow of his golden sigils.
A very dangerous, sharp reminder that he was not human, but a naga.
He was very different from the men I’d known and traveled with back on Earth. That was a good thing.
“Hmm, me neither. This has been fun.” His eyebrow quirked in question, his stare turning baffled.
I knew what he was thinking: fun? I’d been bruised to hell and back, broken my leg, nearly died of an infection, and survived several attempts on my life.
How was that fun? But the rest of it was.
I felt more alive than ever, and with Ekkire, I never felt like I had to prove myself anymore.
“I have some food here. You must be starving,” Ekkire said, changing the subject.
He shifted and rose on one elbow to grab something from nearby: a bowl of still slightly warm stew.
A wooden spoon stuck out of the fragrant food, nearly straight up with how stuffed it was with meat.
I sat up myself, took the bowl, and then had a tentative nibble.
Yup, it was all meat in there, enhanced by spices and salt, but definitely the kind of sustenance a carnivore would prefer.
I doubted this had been made by Ekkire himself, but it was calories—lots of them—which I’d need after being healed.
I sat curled in the loops of his tail, surrounded, warm, sheltered.
It was very cozy, and even though we were both silent as I ate, I enjoyed the moment.
Once my spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, he took it from me and carefully set it aside.
“I can leave the tent so you can sleep undisturbed,” he said with a serious expression.
His body half-turned to leave, but his tail tightening around my waist said the opposite.
My hand touched the warm scales, and I noticed the arrow wounds had healed.
There was not even a trace of the damage they’d done earlier in the day.
That healer really was good, to have done such extensive work on two patients all in one day.
That was good; I didn’t want Ekkire to be in pain for his selfless act.
I also didn’t want him to leave, like he so politely offered, and it was obvious he didn’t actually want to leave either.
My hand pressed against his tail, soaking in the strength of the muscles beneath my fingers.
“No, stay. I really want you to stay.” He turned toward me, his mouth tight and grim, his brow furrowed.
With anyone else I might have thought he was mad, but Ekkire…
I was pretty sure this expression meant something else, and it was intense.
Reaching with both hands, I cupped the sharp lines of his jaw, my thumbs brushing along the smaller scales that covered his cheeks. Then I rose to my knees and kissed him.
He groaned, his body shuddering, reacting instinctively as he hauled me close.
Then he slicked his tongue against my lips, proving he remembered what we’d done before.
A fast student, his kiss already drove me crazy.
The soft brush, then a firmer, possessive claim.
The stroke of his tongue against mine, a tangle of warmth and wetness.
He caught a rhythm that made me ache, mimicking the act of sex.
The split tip of his tongue dragged twin points across the roof of my mouth.
I clung to his shoulders, dug my hands into his silky hair, and scraped my nails over his scalp, a groan vibrating between us that arrowed straight to my clit.
It was so fucking sexy—that sound—and so was the way his coils began to tighten around me, coiling, twining, the two of us locked tightly together in his embrace.