Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Nina
A Riverbank Along the Wilde
“I expect you want to collect,” she said, and held out her arms. “I’m sure you’d prefer me not wet and smelling of the river, but circumstances being what they are, we must compromise.”
“I’d prefer you not catching your death.”
Pearson grabbed her hand and pulled her deeper into the forest. The light and noise of the disaster vanished.
Eventually, the chemical smell of burning wood and oil did as well.
Bare branches slapped against wet clothing and exposed skin.
The fabric caught and snagged. Every step grew increasingly harder.
Her body ached and shivered now that the excitement of the crisis waned.
“We need a fire or we’ll freeze,” she said, teeth chattering.
“Yes, I am familiar with wilderness survival.”
She wasn’t sure how much of the area she’d classify as wilderness.
It wasn’t half-terraformed like the West Lands but it was lacking in…
everything associated with civilization.
There were no helpful lights from a nearby town or even a nearby farmstead.
No roads. Not even a sign post pointing to the nearest village.
They were surrounded by a thick forest, dark and impenetrable.
It was formidable, however.
“I’m sure we’ll come across something if we carry on in this direction,” she said. Not that it mattered. Pearson was currently fishy. They couldn’t find the nearest inn and ask for hospitality. “We can hide in a barn perhaps.”
“I am not hiding in a barn,” he muttered.
“The Pearson name too high and mighty for simple barns?” She personally did not care for the itch and scratch of straw, but a hayloft was better than the hard ground.
“Barns mean farmers, and farmers have guns. I’ve had enough of being shot at for one night. We make camp.” He paused, turning his head slowly as if searching for something, and pointed into the dark. “There.”
Undergrowth gave way to a clearing. It was dark, a thick tangle of tree limbs creating a canopy allowing access to only thin slices of moonlight.
This was as good of a place as any. No one would see their fire from the river, at least. She said, “I have flint and steel if you fetch wood.”
Pushing aside the moldering leaves, she created a clear patch on the ground.
In short order, they had a fire. She removed as many layers of her garments as possible for decency’s sake and arranged them on nearby bushes and trees.
Reluctantly, she also set her dagger holsters out to dry but removed the daggers.
Those stayed near her person, even without the sheath.
Finally, she undid her braid to allow her hair to dry.
“Strip,” Pearson ordered.
“Excuse me? No.” She shivered in her still damp small clothes.
“Now is not the time for modesty. You can’t get warm if you’re wet.”
He himself stood in all his nude fishy glory, his clothes likewise draped on bushes and tree branches.
At least he practiced what he preached.
“Turn around. No peeking,” she said, stripping off the last layer as quickly as possible.
The air was bitterly cold against her skin. Water from her hair dripped down her back. She shuffled as close to the fire as she dared, the heat toasting one side of her.
“Come. Let me hold you. We will stay warm together.” Pearson patted the ground in front of him. “You have my word as a gentleman that I will not besmirch your reputation.”
She was shivering and nude, poorly covering herself with folded arms. She didn’t really care what he thought of her body but she had scars that she’d rather not discuss. “Sir, I am too cold to worry about my reputation.”
After a few awkward attempts, she settled into the space between his arms and leaned back.
She pulled her hair to the side so that it was not pinned between them.
His arms surrounded her, holding her to him.
He was surprisingly warm, like wrapping a blanket around herself.
His chest felt solid, rising and falling with each breath.
Firelight danced across his scales, shimmering blue and green with hints of gold.
It was unexpectedly pleasant.
“You’re cold to the touch,” he said. His hand rubbed her arms, warming the skin. He traced the scar on her upper arm. “What happened here?”
“Shocking as it may be, my vocation is not without risk. I was bitten.”
That earned her a growl.
“Oh, calm yourself. She was defending her kid.” Frankly, Nina deserved to be bitten. A new recruit at the time, if she had read the situation correctly, she could have deescalated the overly protective beast.
“What happened?” Anthony asked.
“I restrained the mama beast and when she was fit for conversation a day or so later, we made sure to plan for the next solstice.”
“Her child was in danger.”
“No. I was the nervous deputy who threatened her in a very delicate time. Her kid was never in any danger.” The incident had been a good lesson to learn. She only wished it hadn’t been so painful. She couldn’t move that arm properly for months.
He found a discolored scar in the middle of her forearm. She bumped into the stove when she was a child. The oval scar on her thigh was from a training accident with a knife. The set of fine, nearly invisible lines on her right hand were from a claw swipe.
“Thank you for pulling me out of the river and thank you for saving those people,” she said, trying to distract him from cataloging all her scars.
“I will always come for you. You’re mine.”
“That’s the bond. You don’t really feel that way.”
“Nina Navarre, I have never spoken a dishonest word to you.”
Her desire to twist around and get a look at his face and see if he was serious was too great to resist. He could not be serious. The man specialized in half-truths.
“Oh, you’re serious,” she said.
“I have omitted many things, but I have never lied.”
“A lie of omission is still a lie.” She settled back into position.
She wasn’t even upset, not really. Too much had happened that evening to be upset about old offenses.
They needed to survive the night and then they could squabble about half-truths and misleading statements.
Besides, she was inclined to think favorably of him.
He saved those people at her behest. He saved her and her mind kept replaying how distressed he sounded when he said I nearly lost you . Like she was irreplaceable.
“You are a well-known rogue. You orchestrated a situation to get me unclothed. I cannot take you seriously,” she said in a tone perilously close to flirting.
“I’ve yet to hear you object.” His hands roamed across her abdomen, rubbing little circles to increase circulation. The motion was strictly clinical, for survival, and in no way did she lean back and let her head loll to the side, exposing her neck.
“I could still stab you.”
“Cleverly, I made sure you discarded your weapons as well as your clothing,” he murmured, his lips against the shell of her ear.
His hands worked their way from her abdomen to her legs, rubbing the outside of her thighs. Still clinical. In no way did she brace her feet against the ground because she did not require leverage.
Now his hands were stroking the inside of her thighs.
“Is this acceptable?” he asked.
“Yes,” she breathed.
He lowered his mouth to her exposed neck. Finally. “May I kiss you here?”
“It’s just the bond. You don’t really want to kiss me.”
“I assure you, I have admired you for years. The bond has nothing to do with the way I desire you.”
Oh. Oh, dear heavens.
Her head had been completely turned by the monster.
There was no recovery from that, was there?
She should have listened to her mother’s warnings, but Nina found it very hard to be concerned at the moment.
This was the aftereffects of surviving the shipwreck.
This was her body responding to stress, relishing in being alive and wanting to feel alive.
It was not a poorly understood mystical bond or years of frustrated attraction.
She was alive and so was he and they should do something about that.
She felt him behind her, the hard bulge pressing against her, and reasoned rightfully that he desired the same.
She arched her back, lifting her hips. “You’d better kiss me or I think I may combust,” she said.
He obliged, his hands still frustratingly not where she wanted them.
“Be direct, Pearson,” she said, moving his hand to the juncture of her thighs. Her hand lingered over his, holding it in place.
“Anthony,” he said, his lips against her skin. He licked and nipped at the skin, sending shivers completely unrelated to temperature down her back. His hand, however, was frustratingly still. “Call me by my name and I’ll be as direct as you demand.”
Anthony
“Anthony,” she breathed.
Her words were the sweetest sound he had ever heard, dripping with want and need.
“Show me,” he said.
She directed his hand up and down, rubbing her curls and the warm flesh underneath.
His eyes never left her, studying how she bit her lip and the tantalizingly slow speed when guiding his hand. Delicious. Every aspect of her. He knew the sheriff was a commanding woman and he appreciated how she took matters into her own hands.
“Slower,” she said. “More pressure.”
“Are you certain? My hands are… I don’t want to hurt you.”
She increased the pressure of her hand against his.
Under her guidance, he circled her clit and plunged down into her core. She squeezed him, holding him tight until he withdrew and completed the circuit again.
And again.
She felt divine in his arms. It was the bond, nothing more.
Truthfully, he had always respected her, but this was not professional respect.
It was something more than simple affection.
Something ardent. He could not be certain if his regard for her was genuine or only a manipulation of the bond.
A monster wanted to be tied to another soul. Nina was simply a matter of proximity.