Kinked (Elder Races, #6)(69)

She reached up to pull his hand away from her hair, and then she didn’t let go of it. “You still haven’t said why you told me.”

“Beats the hell out of me,” he said, in a tone of confession.

She lifted up her head. She accused, “You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“And that was prevarication.” She sounded more betrayed at that than when he had told her what he’d done.

“Was it?”

“You suck!” She pinched him hard in the bicep. “Give me a straight answer, or I swear somehow I’ll find the energy to kick your ass right now.”

“Ouch!” He knocked her hand away and leaned forward so that they were nose to nose. “Maybe,” he whispered, “working with you is starting to feel like a partnership, and maybe I’m shocked at how good that feels. I mean you, for God’s sake, are the last person on the planet I would have ever expected to feel that way about. Six days ago we were trying to kill each other in the Tower.”

“Gods, has it only been six days?” she muttered. “It feels like forever.”

He decided to ignore that. “So maybe I told you the truth because I don’t trust how this feels. And maybe I told you the truth because that’s what real partners do—at least that’s what I’ve heard they do anyway. Maybe real partners know how to say to each other, ‘yeah, you f*cked up and now it’s okay to move on,’ and maybe I would like to hear somebody say that to me just once, sometime in my life. So now it’s up to you, sunshine. Polish your vendetta if that’s what you really want. Just keep in mind, you need me to take down that witch. Let me know what comes after that.”

As aggressive sounding as the words were, saying them still left him feeling raw and wide open. Man, he had a gods-given talent for self-destruction. He rolled away, putting his back to her, and rubbed his chest where that burning pain had settled.

Aryal said, sounding exceedingly aggrieved, “You’re like some kind of high-maintenance girlfriend. I have one of the worst days of my life. Hell, I might be crippled. I might never fly again. That’s beyond my worst nightmare. I don’t know if I can live with it, and yet somehow tonight has become all about you. What about what I need?”

“What do you need?” he whispered.

She said tiredly, “I could use a hug. And you’re the only person around who can give me one. So put out, will you?”

It shocked him immensely, that she would be so open and frank enough to say it. It shocked him even further to discover he could really use a hug too.

He rolled back and reached for her, and she came into his arms, hugging him back. “I’m sorry about the bad timing,” he whispered. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Shut up,” she said. “I’m so mad at you I can hardly think straight.”

“Of course you are.” He sighed. Even their conversations were twisted. “You’re not crippled. You’re just not healed yet.”

Her chest convulsed silently. He never would have known if he hadn’t been holding her. “The joint is crushed. I felt it.”

“You’re going to fly again.” He pushed all the conviction he had into the words. “You will, Aryal. Healers can do miraculous things with joint repair these days. If all else fails, there’s joint replacement. You’re going to fly again. I swear it.”

He knew he might not be right, but she didn’t need that kind of honesty right now. She needed optimism and belief, and he put everything he had into giving it to her.

Her chest convulsed again. He kissed her temple. She didn’t cry easily and wouldn’t let go. It felt like it was wrenched out of her, and she fought it every step of the way. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

Funny how while he was comforting her, for some reason, the burning pain in his chest had eased.

“I can’t believe what a drama queen you are,” she told him.

“Me?” He was genuinely astonished.

“You made a mistake. Sure, it was a bad mistake, but nobody died except the bad guys. What are you going to do, cry ‘mea culpa’ and beat your chest for the next ten years? Everybody’s over what happened but you. I am not saying this because you wanted somebody to. I’m saying it because it’s true. Move the f*ck on already.”

Her words were rough, but they were sincere. He went from burning to lightness. It might have gone to his head a bit, because he rolled her over onto her back, and he came up over her to kiss her.

She made a muffled noise against his lips. She sounded incredibly grumpy. Then she kissed him back.

They were both filthy, blood streaked, and the cold floor was making him nuts. None of it mattered. This wasn’t about sexual passion. Or maybe it was, but it was about something else too, something that was more important.

That made him suspicious. He didn’t know what to call that important, unknown thing, but whatever it was, it felt necessary and right. He teased her lips and she licked at him. Then he deepened the kiss until their tongues met and caressed. She tasted of apple brandy, heady and light.

The sensation went to his head. He eased over her more fully, pressing one leg between hers. The friction of denim cloth from their jeans was a quiet sound interspersed with the sound of their deepening breath. She ran her hands up his back, her touch on the expanse of naked skin sending a shudder through him.