Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(65)
He hadn’t been the one to drag her back into the land of the living—Kait had done that.
“I’m serious, Rawls,” she hissed, jabbing him in the chest with her elbow. “This is embarrassing.”
When he didn’t release her, she struggled in earnest, which raised the alarming question of whether his hold was bruising her. His stomach twisted at the possibility of hurting her, so he reluctantly released her and lowered her to the ground. She wavered there for a moment under his steadying grip, and then her legs took control.
Her relieved sigh when her muscles kicked in was loud—hell, probably loud enough for Jude to hear—and then she got to work straightening her clothes. The smoothing, tucking, and tugging went on so long it got downright amusing. His irritation dissipated beneath the rising humor.
“Darlin’,” he said around the edges of a grin. “Much more of that and your knickers are liable to file harassment charges.”
Her hands froze. Bright red swarmed her cheeks. She looked so uncomfortable and lost standing there, her hands clenched at her sides, uncertainty swimming in her eyes, that the urge to laugh vanished.
“Hey!” He framed her face and kissed her forehead, the tenderness rising so thick and fast he thought he might drown beneath it. “You’re perfect the way you are. No need for fussin’.”
She relaxed beneath his hands and leaned against him, pressing her mouth against his throat. Her lips were soft against his skin, silky . . . hot as hell. They burned the tenderness right out of him. His hands dropped to her hips and pulled her hard against his crotch.
As his head lowered, his mouth searching out hers, a loud cough sounded beside them. Faith broke away with a startled gasp, as though they’d been caught doing something shameful.
Well, hell . . .
Rawls looked up with a scowl. Looks like he had two bones to pick with the Arapaho warrior. He got right down to the first one. “You want to tell me why Pachico vamooses when you or Wolf show up, but not when anyone else is nearby?”
Faith twitched at the question. She obviously hadn’t expected him to publicly admit to his ghost.
Jude’s face tensed. The lines bracketing his mouth deepened in disapproval and discomfort. “It is not wise to speak of the biitei. Acknowledging it brings it much power.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Rawls snapped. He had no intention of being led down an Arapaho rabbit hole. “Why did it disappear when you approached?”
His face impassive, Jude tugged up the thin leather cord draping his neck, and lifted it from beneath his T-shirt. Dangling from the bottom was a tiny, circular weaving.
“Okay.” Rawls leaned in for a closer look. It resembled a primitive sun, with eight triangular spokes circling the outer edge. Upon closer look, the spiked sunburst was repeated again and again within the weaving—the pattern stacked in on itself in rich reds and blues. “You want to tell me what that is?”
“Protection,” Jude said succinctly.
From ghosts, apparently. Which made sense considering Pachico had vanished as Jude approached.
“Wolf have one of these things?”
Jude tucked the weaving back under his shirt and rearranged the cord around his neck. “We all wear a hiixoyooniiheiht.”
Wolf had known about Pachico. He’d known Rawls was being haunted.
“No shit,” Rawls said, fury rising. “Why the hell didn’t Wolf tell me about this thing? Loan me one? Help me out just a f*ckin’ bit?”
Faith shot him a surprised look as the f-bomb broke loose, but sweet Jesus, he’d been going certifiably crazy over the past few days. Not to mention how dangerous his transparent troll had become recently. Someone could have been seriously hurt. Wolf could have saved him a boatload of frustration and worry if he’d just opened his damn mouth and explained about this ghost-protection amulet.
Jude shrugged. “Hiixoyooniiheiht are created specifically for an individual, using the individual’s blood. They are not interchangeable.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Rawls regrouped. “How’s it work?”
Jude’s face collapsed back into its normal fountain of inscrutability. “That is the notonheihii’s domain, not ours to know.”
Rawls took a deep breath and counted to ten. The bastard had to be deliberately trying to piss him off.
“Did you see it?” Faith interrupted, sharp interest in her eyes.
“Only one who has dwelled in hiihooteet and walked the other side can see a biitei.”
Faith’s eyebrows crinkled. “Then how do you know it was there? How do you know ghosts even exist?”
Jude turned an indulgent look on her. “How does one know the wind exists?”
Faith’s eyes widened and pure exasperation flooded her face. “That’s not the same thing at all!” She leaned forward, her body practically vibrating with irritation. “I can quantify the wind. I can measure its velocity with an anemometer. I can see its effect on vegetation or kites or birds with my own eyes. I can capture it to power a sailboat or a windmill. I can measure everything about it from direction to miles per hour.”
Rawls choked back a sputter of laughter and hauled her back, anchoring her to his side. Sweet baby Jesus, she looked like she wanted to go after the man with her bare hands.
“I reckon the wind wasn’t the best comparison,” Rawls drawled.