Warrior (7 page)

Without the awkwardness of wearing only one cowboy boot to hamper him, Nevada moved with startling speed and only the slightest limp. He took her hands from the canvas packsacks.

“Put your bed near the hearth,” Eden said. “The cabin gets cold by dawn.”

“Next time let me get my own gear. These sacks are too heavy for you.”

Eden gave him a look out of hazel eyes that were almost molten gold with reflected flames. “You’ve been hurt and you’re running a fever,” she said with careful patience. “That makes us about even in the strength department.”

“Bull,” Nevada said succinctly.

With no visible effort he lifted both sacks, walked across the room and dumped the sacks to one side of the hearth. Eden stared. She knew how heavy those bags were. She’d had a hard time simply dragging them into the cabin.

“Okay, I was wrong,” she said, throwing up her hands. “You can jump tall buildings in a single bound and catch bullets in your bare hands.”

“Bare teeth,” Nevada said without looking up.

“What?”

“You catch bullets with your teeth.”

“You may,” she retorted, “but I’m not that stupid.”

“The hell you aren’t.” Nevada lifted his head and pinned her with a cougar’s pale green glance. “You’re alone in the middle of a snowstorm with a man who gets hard every time you lick your lips. And you trust me. That, lady, is damned stupid.”

<< 5 >>

Sensing that something was wrong, Eden awoke with a start. In the silent spaces between gusts of wind, she heard a man speaking in broken phrases, fragmented names, snatches of language that had no rational meaning. But they made sense emotionally. Someone was hurt, trapped, dying

.

And it was happening over and over again.

Nevada.

Quickly Eden sat up and looked across the hearth to the place where Nevada had set up his bedroll and mattress. The room was so dark that she could see only an outline, a darker black that indicated Nevada was still there. The cold in the room was the penetrating chill of a winter that would not release the land into spring’s life-giving embrace.

Without leaving her sleeping bag, Eden stirred the fire into life and added fuel. Flames surged up, bringing light and heat into the room. A swift glance told Eden that Nevada was only half-covered, restless, caught in the grip of fever or nightmare or both.

Eden unzipped her sleeping bag and slid out. Her double-layer, silk-and-wool ski underwear turned aside the worst of the chill, but the floor was icy on her bare feet. Silently she knelt next to Nevada, watching the contours of his face emerge from the darkness as flames licked over the wood.

A combination of stark shadows, black beard, shifting orange flames and physical tension drew Nevada’s features into lines as harsh as they were compelling to Eden’s senses. His torso was lean, muscular, highlighted by tire and midnight swirls of hair. He wore no shirt, nothing to keep the cold at bay.

Eden knelt at Nevada’s side. As she had earlier in the day, she put her hand on his forehead to gauge his temperature.

The world exploded.

Within the space of two seconds Eden was jerked over Nevada’s body, thrown on her back and stretched helplessly beneath his far greater weight while a hot steel band closed around her throat. In the wavering light Nevada’s eyes were those of a trapped cougar, luminous with fire, bottomless with shadow, inhuman.

“Nevada

” Eden whispered, all she could say, for the room was spinning away.

Instantly the pressure vanished. Eden felt the harsh shudder that went through Nevada’s body before he rolled aside, releasing her from his weight. She shivered with the cold of the cabin floor biting into her flesh, and with another, deeper cold, the winter chill that lay at the center of Nevada’s soul.

“Next time you want to wake me up, just call my name. Whatever you do, don’t touch me. Ever.”

Nevada’s voice was as remote as his eyes had been.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Eden asked after a moment, her voice husky.

“What?”

“Touching. You haven’t had enough of it. Not the caring kind, the warm kind, the gentle kind.”

“Warmth is rare and temporary. Cruelty and pain aren’t. A survivor hones his reflexes accordingly. I’m a survivor, Eden. Don’t ever forget it. If you catch me off guard I could hurt you badly and never even mean to.”

Eden closed her eyes and shivered against the icy cold. Suddenly she felt herself lifted again. She made a startled sound and stiffened.

“It’s all right,” Nevada said calmly. “I’m wide-awake now. Turn your face toward the fire.”

The difference in temperature between the floor and Nevada’s bed was disorienting. Eden let out a broken sigh of relief at the warmth and turned her face toward the dancing flames. When she felt Nevada’s hand at her throat once more, she gave him a startled look. Nevada didn’t notice. He was carefully peeling down the mock-turtleneck collar of her top. Gently his hand slid up beneath her chin, urging her to turn more fully toward the fire.

As Eden turned, a necklace of fine gold chain spilled from the scarlet fabric into Nevada’s hand, drawn by the fragile weight of the ring she wore as a pendant. The shimmer of metal caught his eye. He looked more closely and saw that the ring was made of fine strands of smoothly braided gold. When he realized that the ring was too small to be worn by anyone but a very young child, he tipped his palm and let the gold slide away.

Firelight revealed no marks on the creamy surface of Eden’s throat. With devastating gentleness Nevada’s fingertips traced the taut tendons and satin skin. The startled intake of her breath followed by the visible, rapid surge of her pulse made Nevada’s body tighten in a wild, sweeping rush that was becoming familiar to him around Eden.

Even as Nevada told himself he should be grateful that Eden’s response to him came from fear rather than desire, he knew he wasn’t grateful. He wanted nothing so much as to soothe with his tongue the tender flesh he had savaged, and then go on to find even warmer, more tender flesh and know its sweetness, as well.

But even if he were fool enough to start something he wasn’t going to finish, Eden wouldn’t be fool enough to want him. She finally understood what he was: a warrior, not a knight in shining armor.

Eden trembled again.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you now,” Nevada said.

The subdued rasp in his voice was like a hidden caress, making Eden ache to know more of his touch.

“I know,” she whispered.

“Do you? You’re trembling.”

“I’m not used to

this.”

“Take my word for it,” Nevada said sardonically, “nearly being strangled isn’t the sort of thing you get used to.” His fingertips probed lightly at her soft skin. “Tender?”

Eden shook her head.

“Does it hurt when you talk?” he asked.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s true,” Eden said. “You didn’t hurt me.”

The throaty intimacy of her voice made Nevada burn. Very carefully he lifted his hand from Eden’s warmth. He sat up in a tangle of sleeping bag and blankets, bringing her upright with him. The easy way he handled her weight served to underline his strength and her vulnerability – a vulnerability she stubbornly refused to acknowledge.

As Nevada released Eden, she reached up and put her palm on his forehead. He jerked back.

“You were lucky, Eden. Very lucky. Don’t push it.”

“You should take your own advice.”

Nevada gave her a narrow look. “Meaning?”

“You’re running a fever, but you plan on getting up at dawn and riding out of here.”

Nevada shrugged. “I’ll see what it looks like in the morning.”

“White,” Eden said succinctly.

“What?”

“It will look white. All of it. Even if it stops snowing, you won’t be able to tell. The wind will strip off the new snow and blow it everywhere. White on white, sky and ground, everything and everywhere. If you don’t believe me, listen to the wind. You would be a fool to go anywhere tomorrow, and survivors aren’t fools.”

Nevada turned and looked at Eden with unfathomable eyes. “Get back in your own bed. Fever or no fever, there’s nothing you can do for me.”

After a long, tight moment, Eden went back to her sleeping bag, crawled in and shivered until she was warm once more. “Nevada?”

He grunted unencouragingly.

“What were you dreaming about?”

“Was I dreaming?”

“Yes. That’s what woke me up.”

Silence.

“Do you dream like that often?” she persisted.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“Survivors don’t remember their dreams. That’s how we stay sane.”

Nevada rolled over and was asleep within moments.

Eden lay awake for a long time, thinking about survivors and listening to the wind rearrange layers of snow over the frozen land.

*

“Baby, give them to me,” Eden coaxed.

Baby moved just beyond her reaching fingers. Yellow eyes gleamed with unmistakable mischief. From either side of Baby’s long muzzle dangled Nevada’s socks. Plainly the wolf had no intention of giving up his prize.

Eden made a sudden grab. Baby danced backward and then half crouched, his muzzle on his front paws, his hindquarters in the air, his tail waving with delight at having suckered his mistress into playing with him.

Nevada looked up from stacking firewood next to the hearth, where the heat could dry out wood newly brought in from the snow.

“Good thing I have extra socks,” he said. “Look’s like that pair is a goner.”

“Baby knows better, at least with my socks,” Eden said, exasperated. “Guess he figured yours were fair game. Baby, drop.”

Yellow eyes met hazel ones for a long moment. With a startlingly human look of disappointment, Baby opened his mouth. Socks dropped to the floor, no worse for the time spent in a wolf’s jaws. Eden picked up the socks, tossed them in Nevada’s direction, and rubbed both hands through Baby’s thick neck fur, praising him for giving up his prize. Baby burrowed into her touch in return, stropping himself against her like a huge cat, plainly enjoying the physical contact.

Nevada watched through hooded eyes, oddly moved by the sight of the big, frankly savage-looking beast being petted by a woman who weighed less than the animal did and was considerably less well equipped to defend herself. As she buried her face in the wolf’s fur, it didn’t seem to occur to Eden that those long jaws and steel muscles could tear her apart.

You’re a fool, Eden Summers. A sweet fool, but a fool just the same. You trust too much.

Baby made a sound that was a cross between a chesty growl and a throaty yap as he half crouched again, waving his tail, vibrating with a desire for energetic play after being penned up by the storm. Eden laughed and shoved against the wolf with both hands, sending him skidding across the smooth wooden floor. With a powerful scrambling of legs, Baby stopped his backward motion and romped toward Eden, who was braced on hands and knees, waiting for Baby’s charge. Instead of running into Eden head-on, the wolf turned at the last instant, buffeting her with his shoulder.

If Eden hadn’t been prepared, she would have been bowled over, but this was an old game for the two of them. She gave as good as she got, throwing her weight behind her shoulder as Baby raced by, sending him scrambling for purchase on the slick wood floor. Eden barely had a chance to recover her own balance before Baby was back for more. She survived a few more glancing passes before the wolf’s greater strength and coordination sent her rolling.

Instantly Baby pivoted, scrambled for traction and started after his laughing mistress. Eden had just enough time to brace herself again before more than a hundred and thirty pounds of muscle and fur bounded into her. She shoved hard against Baby, knowing she was going to go spinning again but determined to give the wolf a good tussle.

Before Baby’s shoulder could connect with Eden, she was lifted and set down behind Nevada. The wolf hit the man instead. Two strong hands shoved hard against steel muscles and thick fur. Baby went spinning and sliding across the cabin floor. He recovered, gave Nevada a look of glittering delight, and came full tilt across the cabin floor toward the man.

This time Nevada waited on all fours as Eden had. Muscular shoulder met muscular shoulder, Baby rebounded and went sliding and scrambling across the floor. When the wolf regained his balance, he gave Nevada a laughing, long-tongued grin and charged once more, holding back nothing of his strength as he had earlier in the game with Eden.

“You’re in for it now, Nevada,” Eden crowed breathlessly. “Baby hasn’t had a decent wrestling match since Mark broke his arm, so Baby’s loaded for bear – and with that sleek beard, you’re looking like bear to him.”

Just as Nevada turned to ask who Mark was, Baby sprang. Nevada went down in a tangle of arms, furry legs and waving black tail. Laughing hard at Nevada’s comeuppance, trying to catch her breath at the same time, Eden sank onto her bed and applauded while wolf and warrior romped.

And a romp it was. Nevada and Baby caromed off ice chest and walls, supply sacks and packsaddle, firewood and empty water bucket. The room became a shambles of its former neat condition. Yet no matter how fast or exciting the wrestling became, both wolf and warrior kept individual weapons very carefully sheathed. Fangs never sank into flesh, nor did steel fingers gouge. Claws might rake the floor, but nothing else. Unarmed combat tactics remained unused.

Finally Nevada wrestled Baby to the floor and pinned him there, both of them breathing hard. The wolf relaxed, baring his throat and belly to the warrior, accepting the end of the game. Nevada shook Baby gently by the scruff, spoke to him calmly, and released him. Baby sprang up, shook himself thoroughly, and stood panting and grinning up at Nevada. The left side of Nevada’s mouth kicked up slightly in return. He sat on his heels and took the wolf’s big head in his hands, rubbing the base of the erect ears and smoothing the thick fur.

“You’re one hell of a fighter, old man,” Nevada said quietly.