A line in the ice, p.10
A Line in the Ice, page 10
“Yes. I almost wish I could say the bag wasn’t important enough to risk anybody’s life over, but it is nearly that important. Thank you.”
“That’s my line. You didn’t have to do what you did. But I’m glad you got it.” She grinned. “I would have had my ass thoroughly kicked if I’d fallen over the edge for nothing.”
“I did have to do what I did. There was never a question of that.”
With his brown eyes fixed on her, Charlie’s stomach flipped. He found her attractive. She’d felt the evidence of it while he held her, even if she never let on. Maybe he saw her a little bit as a savior, too, since she’d been the one to fight for him amongst the squad. A smart woman wouldn’t let it mean anything, and yet, when he lifted his dark gaze to meet hers, or he gave her that enigmatic half smile, her heart accelerated, her body felt lighter, and she had the overwhelming urge to smile back. Or reach out and do ridiculous things like curl up against his chest.
“How are you doing?” Hopefully, changing the subject would distract her, or both of them. “You don’t look worse for wear.”
“I am well. I wasn’t injured, just exhausted. Lisa insisted on giving me her rations last night, and Theo wouldn’t hear of me sleeping on the floor. Even Eduard seems to hate me less today.”
“That’s good. I’m sure it makes things easier for you.” She glanced out the window. She’d never felt this awkward around him before. She really didn’t like it, but wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Sorry it’s so cold? Thank God you’re a great rock climber? Wanna go back to my bunk? It all sounded lame. Well, not the last one. That sounded desperate.
“No, not really. I’m thankful for their kindness, and I’m glad they don’t seem so suspicious of me, but the only thing I needed was to see you. Unfortunately, a mother yis couldn’t be more protective of her young.”
That made her smile. “It’s because we’re all we’ve got out here. But Julius didn’t let anybody else in to see me, if it’s any consolation. He wouldn’t listen when I asked for you.”
“He’s a good leader.” The corner of Lysander’s mouth lifted. “You should probably listen to him more often.”
“Well, that’s not any fun. We wouldn’t get any impromptu boxing matches if I did.”
“True. Though it’s not a risk worth taking.” He leaned closer, reaching for her. She remained motionless, partially surprised, partially curious, as he gently brushed his thumb across her lower lip. “You’ve probably forgotten about your poor lip by now.”
Her mouth tingled where he touched it, and her throat tightened. She had, but his touch made it impossible to think about anything else. Not the way it had been hurt but how he branded her with heat with such a simple caress.
“The upside to all the bruises was that Julius had no way of knowing which ones were from the fall and which were from boxing.” She smiled, ignoring the way her heart thudded. “Which means when we go at it again, he doesn’t have reason to stop me.”
“When we go at it again?” He shook his head, letting his hand fall. “I would be too afraid of giving you another bloody lip. I don’t like to see it swollen.”
“So I’ll duck next time.” She missed his touch already. “If you think I’m letting you off the hook, you’re crazy.”
“Perhaps I’ll consider it once you make a full recovery. Does it still hurt? Your lip, I mean.”
She tested the swelling with the tip of her tongue, running it back and forth over the skin. It was a poor substitute for him. “It always looked worse than it felt. I hadn’t even thought about it until you touched me.”
He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I just…” He leaned back, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
“What?” She countered his retreat by sliding closer, resting her hand on his forearm. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything, Lysander. I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just meant…it doesn’t hurt. That’s all.”
He looked down to where her hand rested on his arm, and she suddenly became aware of the fact that she was really touching him. “I was going to say, I can’t bring myself to look away from your mouth. It’s so…”
He hooked his finger beneath her chin, holding her gently. When he tilted his head, she remained still. Until the moment his lips touched hers in a delicate caress.
She couldn’t breathe. Her mouth quivered, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was still sitting properly on the bench. They only touched at those few small places, just tiny patches of skin, some of them even covered, but she drowned in the sweet taste of him, in the hard feel of his body to hers, in the attention he gave without even trying. It wasn’t how she’d imagined kissing him in bed. Those fantasies had been hot, heavy and laden with hungry need. But now, she couldn’t imagine this kiss happening any other way.
Lysander cupped the side of her face with his other hand, his fingers as gentle as his lips. He didn’t deepen the kiss until she parted her mouth, welcoming the soft tip of his tongue. Even then he didn’t rush anything. She felt the way he strained to hold himself back. Or maybe she just felt the tension in her own limbs. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, pull him as close as possible. Let his body cover hers.
Before the fantasy carried her away, he lifted his head. Surprise shone in his eyes, mirroring her own. A familiar hunger was there, too. “I think…I think you know I’ve wanted to do that.”
“Yeah,” she acknowledged, her voice a mere breath. She cleared her throat, trying to get some of it back. “I figured it out the other night.”
He glanced away, took a deep breath, and met her gaze again. “If my attention is unwelcome, I understand.”
“It’s not.” The flare of hope in his eyes made it hard to add, “I think it’s just unwise.”
“Why?”
“Because as soon as he discovers you’re here, Benson’s going to swoop in and scoop you up. He’s going to take you someplace stateside, and I’m not going to be there. Who knows when we’ll to be able to see each other again?”
Her gaze dropped for a moment to his succulent mouth, and how perfectly his dark mustache and close beard framed his lips. She wanted to taste him again more than she’d ever wanted anything. She didn’t want to stop at his lips, either. She wanted to push him flat and learn every plane of his body, trace over the tattoos decorating his flesh with her tongue until he begged her to stop.
All that would have to happen in her dreams. Or the shower. Or anyplace else she might get a few minutes of privacy after he was gone.
She sighed. “I wonder if maybe you’re confusing this…chemistry we have for something more than what it is. I don’t want to hurt you when we have to end this.”
“I don’t understand. What do you think we have between us? You kiss me like you want me, too.”
“I did. Do. But, I mean, look…” She was botching this, big time. “You said yourself, you’re not exactly an expert on women. I took that to mean you haven’t been with any other than your wife. Was I wrong?”
“There have been three other women. But I don’t know what that has to do with the two of us.”
“It’s about…okay, I like you. I’m not going to deny that. I think you’re generous, and sweet, but when you walk into the room I feel like if I’m not careful, you’re going to pounce. Which is a good thing,” she added quickly, when she saw a flicker of alarm pass over his face. “It’s a good thing. Too good. But I also think you don’t do casual. I mean, look at how long you were with your wife. You seem like the kind of guy who needs more than just a fun hook-up. And that’s all we could have, even if we might want more. Because you’re going to have to leave, and I don’t want it to be like getting my arm cut off. Or your arm cut off. Am I making any sense at all here?”
Lysander regarded her for a long moment. So long, in fact, she feared she sounded like an insane person. As she opened her mouth to clarify further, he inclined his head. “Yes, you make sense. We are facing an uncertain future. It’s best not to complicate the situation. Emotional involvement will only add complications we should avoid.”
Part of her was disappointed. She’d hoped he’d protest. The squad was family, but how many men ever wanted to fight for her because of who she was as a woman instead of who she was as a soldier? None, really. Still, this was better. Truly. It made her feel like shit and she missed his mouth already, but it was better to make a clean cut now rather than later.
“That doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” Oh, God, the friends speech. The only reason she could get through this at all was because odds were good he’d never heard it before. “I don’t regret kissing you. Not a little bit.”
“I regret that I won’t get to kiss you again.” He stood. “But I’m honored to be your friend. There is one thing, though. If all goes to plan, the rift will be closed, and you’ll be able to leave this hellish place. In fact, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you’re allowed to leave.”
His naïve optimism was such a welcome change that it made her smile in spite of the sense she’d made a mess of things. “I know you will. And hey, if that happens, I fully expect you to show up in Hawaii. You owe me rock climbing lessons.”
“You owe me a chance to see the ocean from the sky. Like a bird. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
“It’ll take your breath away. I promise you.”
“I believe you. You seem to be quite adept at doing just that.”
She let him walk away without saying another word. Clean cut. It was the smart thing to do.
But a clean cut still stung.
Chapter Ten
He felt Charlie’s lips against his long after he walked away from her. The memory of her breath fanning across his face, warm and sweet, would linger for hours, just as the touch of her hand on his arm would. Her words echoed in his ears. The halting explanation of her refusal of him. He had not lied to her. He did understand why she would deny the feelings they had for each other. Not only did he understand it, but he agreed with her. He would be losing her soon. Probably very soon. And another loss, after everything he had suffered already, would be enough to break him.
Though their paths had crossed only for a short time, he couldn’t ask for anything more. It would not be fair to either of them. Yet was it fair to deny his desires, his feelings and his passions for a woman who was unlike anybody he had ever met before?
In some ways Charlie reminded him of his wife. Portia could be headstrong too, as capable as any man in Illyria. He’d loved her as far back as his memory stretched. He could not remember a time in his life when she wasn’t with him. She had been from the Dawson clan, and the stories of Samuel Dawson’s bravery under fire were told with a certain reverent tone. Lysander had always struggled under the legacy of his great-grandfather, but Portia had embraced the stories of her heritage, living her life as though she was merely an extension of his valor.
In many ways, she was.
Major Samuel Dawson had been the first man to follow the leviathan into their world. Or, as the stories had gone, he had been the first man to chase the leviathan out of Earth. He and Lysander’s grandfather had served in the same company, and they were the ones who found the yis prowling through the shelled-out, destroyed streets of Ypres, Belgium. Two years after the Germans unleashed their chlorine gas on the unsuspecting Allies, the remains of the city came under attack again, from a different sort of monster.
Lysander knew the story well. As a child, it had been one of his favorites. His mother had been alarmed by Lysander’s fascination. She was proud of the clan’s heritage, but she hated stories of the battles on Earth. She especially hated to hear about the beautiful leviathan, broken beneath the will of the Aquorians, nothing more than starving predators and ferocious demons prowling destroyed cities. He’d not understood her distaste at the time, but he had respected her desire to not hear them. That was when he had first sought out Portia. Because she would share the stories he could not find at home.
How many hours had they spent reenacting the battles? How many times had they watched an imaginary yis stalk through the mangled streets of a town they had never seen? How many times had she insisted he call her Major Dawson? How many times had he complied, purely for the satisfaction of her smile and the delightful music of her laugh?
They had not limited themselves to tales of long-over battles. She had been the Beatrice to his Benedict, the Artemis to his Apollo, the Patroclus to his Achilles. They traveled from the ancient city of Athens to the mysterious realms of Hell. They had been allies and enemies. Their play touched upon every story they had ever heard, and when they ran out they made up their own. In some ways it felt like their adult relationship had been an extension of their childhood friendship. Instead of chasing imaginary beasts, they hunted for food together. Instead of plotting against fantastic enemies, they began to strategize their defense against the Yellow Cross.
What sort of childhood had Charlie had? Did she fight with the boys her age? Did they play war with each other? She had left her home to join the air force and become a pilot. How old had she been when she first lifted above the Earth? Did it ever scare her? The thought of being so high off the ground terrified him, but intrigued him, as well. Flight evoked the sort of fear that made his fingers and toes tingle with anticipation. Just the sort of fear that attracted him.
He wished he had met her when she was younger. As if he’d missed out on an experience he had no ability to envision.
But she couldn’t be his concern. As he pulled the few items from his bag, he cleared his mind. Stopping the Yellow Cross should be the only thing consuming his thoughts. Especially now they had the means to do it. Once he defeated the Aquorians, the squad could go home, and, if he survived, Lysander would be handed the task of rebuilding Illyria.
The strong possibility of there being absolutely nobody left to help rebuild lingered in the back of his mind, but he chose to ignore it. There had to be survivors and they would need a home. They would need a leader. They would need somebody to give them hope for a new future. Filling that role was his destiny.
Charlie’s destiny was to leave this place and have the long, happy life she deserved.
Eduard was the first to arrive, unsmiling and steady-eyed. He nodded as he went to the thermos they used for coffee and poured a steaming cup. “Would you like some?”
He didn’t, but if Eduard wanted to extend some sort of olive branch, he would meet him halfway. “Yes, please. Are the others going to be in soon?”
“Should be. They’re just finishing up.”
Theo and Lisa entered when he set the cup down in front of Lysander, followed soon by Soren. Eduard didn’t ask the others if they wanted anything before pouring them drinks as well.
There had been a minor argument over whether all of them should be present for Lysander’s requested meeting. Julius did not like Charlie putting any unnecessary strain on her sore muscles. Lysander appreciated his point—he didn’t want Charlie to overexert herself—but ultimately, everybody needed to understand what he asked of them. His concern that Julius would keep her locked away was put to rest when the two entered the mess together, gratefully accepting the waiting cups from Eduard.
“So, what exactly is this all about?” Lisa asked.
“It’s about how we’re going to close the rift.”
Charlie didn’t participate in the curious glances and frowns the rest of the squad cast amongst themselves. Her mesmerizing eyes never left Lysander.
“You’ve been trying to get us to take on this Yellow Cross for days now,” Eduard said. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“I didn’t have the bag before. I thought it was lost, trapped in Illyria beyond our reach. I told you before, the Aquorians are travelers. They tear open these holes into new worlds, and they swarm, destroying everything. They have been trapped in my world because my great-grandfather and the other men in his squad stole their sacred texts. There is a book to open a rift and another to close it. They took them when they laid siege to Illyria.” Lysander gently picked up the small sheaf of papers, bound together by a leather strip winding through the pages. “I stole the one that closes the rift back. Before I jumped into this world.”
Soren leaned forward. “May I see?”
He automatically pulled the text against his chest. “Why?”
For whatever reason, his response startled the good-natured Soren, his smile fading. “Why not?”
Soren would not harm the texts. Nobody there would. But his arms were locked, his fingers aching from the tension. In order to answer Soren’s question, he would have to explain he had already let the texts out of his sight once, resulting in the doom of his entire world. He looked to Charlie, hoping she would be able to help.
“So how do they open and close it?” Her question diverted their focus back to the present. “It’s gotta be some kind of science, right? Not magic.”
“There’s no such thing as magic,” Eduard said.
“Are you sure about that?” For the moment, the shift in conversation seemed to be working to distract Soren. “Eight months ago, you wouldn’t have believed in any of those creatures coming out of the rift.”
“Leviathan,” Charlie corrected.
Lysander smiled. “There are words that must be recited, but my father told me they are ceremonial. I don’t know if that is true. The stones might be the most important element. I’ve never tried to use the texts, but I do know how they work.” He continued to clutch the make-shift book, but he gestured at the other items on the table. “If you combine these in the proper order while reciting the words, you can control the rift.”
“Let’s go do that right now and just end this thing.” Lisa raised her hand. “All in favor?”
Lysander shook his head. “It’s not that simple. The ritual needs to be performed on the same side of the rift as the opening ritual.”
Soren and Julius had been absorbed in examining the various objects, but Lysander’s quiet statement caused everyone to turn their attention to him. Including Charlie, whose eyes had gone wide with fear.
