Twilight Crossing. Susan Krinard
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“I still have one hand,” she protested.
“I don’t want you moving around any more than you have to.”
“There are some things you can’t help me with.”
He grinned, showing his pointed cuspids. “I’ve lived most of my life on the move. Do you think something like that would bother me?”
“You only travel with men,” she said.
“But I’ve known plenty of women,” he said, an almost mischievous light glittering in his eyes. “Biology is biology. If you think you can manage it, I’ll help you get up.”
“You just said you didn’t want me to move!”
All at once he was serious again. “I would rather you didn’t.”
With a feeling of queasiness, she imagined him cleaning up after her. That was out of the question. “Help me get over to the tree,” she said. He half carried her to the tree and gave her a small measure of privacy, though she knew he was alert to the possibility of a fall. She was very careful not to fall.
Then he was easing her to the blanket again, laying her down with exquisite care, with something so much like tenderness that she almost didn’t feel the increased pain as her arm and leg touched the ground.
“I’ll give you another pill,” he said, adjusting her head into a more comfortable position.
“I don’t need one,” she said with greater asperity than she’d intended.
“You kept insisting that you’re a coward who can’t stand pain.”
“I am,” she said, meeting his gaze.
He laughed softly. “Don’t ever suggest such foolish things again.”
“What—”
“That you aren’t one of the most courageous women I’ve ever known.”
“And you said you’ve known plenty.”
She didn’t know what had gotten into her. God knew she didn’t want to hear the real answer.
“Do you want the details?” he asked, his eyes dancing.
Eager to change the subject, Jamie closed her eyes. “How soon will I be well enough to travel, so that we can catch up with the others? They can’t be too far ahead.”
“We have to make sure that the arm sets properly and the leg wound remains clean and healing. We’ll find a more permanent camp, and stay there for a couple of weeks.”
“What?”
“You need plenty of time to heal.”
She began to sit up, but Timon was already pressing her down again. “That’s too long!”
“Because you’re anxious to rejoin your friends?” he asked. “Or is it the fact that you’ll be alone with me?”
His bluntness surprised her, and she felt an unfamiliar heat swelling in her belly. “I’m not afraid of anything, remember?” she said.
“Good. Because the last thing I want is for you to have doubts about me.” He leaned over her, a quiet ferocity in his voice. “I won’t let anything else happen to you. All you have to do is trust me.”
The emotions in his eyes were far too complex for her to read. She turned her head away.
“I do trust you,” she said. “I don’t have any choice.”
His sigh told her it wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear. “If that’s true,” he said, “I can suggest a way that might allow us to move a little faster.”
She turned her head toward him again. “What?”
“It may not work. But there’s a chance, Jamie.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “All Opiri have a component in their saliva that can heal human wounds. Usually those are the small wounds that come with a bite. But sometimes...” He leaned closer, the subtle colors shifting in his eyes. “I’m only half-Opir. But some of us inherit the healing ability. If I bite you, I may be able to hasten your healing more efficiently than any antibiotic.”
Her stomach began to roil with alarm. “Bite me?” she said.
“It’s the only way to get the healing component into your bloodstream.”
All at once his face changed, became that of a monster, eager to drain her dry. “No,” she whispered. “Get away from me.”
Jamie flinched away as Timon jerked back. “Jamie?” he said. “What’s wrong?”
All at once his face seemed to shift back to normal—though deeply concerned, uncertain, confused.
“You want to take my blood,” Jamie said, anger rushing in to replace horror.
“Take your blood?” Timon backed away and crouched again, studying her face intently. “I didn’t say that, Jamie.”
“That was part of the bargain, wasn’t it? Your Riders’ escort for our blood to feed you along the way?”
“What happened when the first raiders took you? Did one of them hurt you?”
She couldn’t answer. Though she knew he only wanted to help, the memories had been in her thoughts since the first raiders had captured the delegation. She looked at Timon’s face now, and all she could imagine were his sharp, tearing teeth, the feel of them sinking into her flesh.
“Don’t worry,” Timon said, holding up his hands. “I won’t touch you, Jamie. Not without your permission.”
“Please, leave me alone.”
Timon got to his feet and gazed down at her, his mouth pinched. “I’m going to leave you here for a short time,” he said, “and look for a better camp, farther off the main track. Is that all right with you?”
Oak leaves overhead shifted with the breeze, letting through a beam of sunlight. Sunlight the real bloodsuckers couldn’t tolerate.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, avoiding Timon’s eyes.
“Don’t try to move. Rest as best you can.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He hesitated, released his breath, and went to fetch Lazarus.
For a while, Jamie did nothing but listen tensely to every sound in her little haven: the slight rustle of fresh green grass just outside the circle of shade, the twitter of a bird, the chirp of an insect. There was no man-made sound anywhere within the range of her hearing, but she fought sleep as long as she could.
Then the dreams came. Timon was carrying her off, taking her away from her people just like the tribesman, his arm clamped around her waist and his expression grimly satisfied. He had claimed her for his own. He would brand her as his, with his body and teeth and his will, and no matter how hard she fought—
She didn’t want to fight. God help her; she would give in to everything, anything he wanted. Fear was gone. The barriers of pride and modesty and obligation had fallen under Lazarus’s pounding hooves.
“Jamie.”
Her eyes flew open. She thrust out her good arm as if to fend Timon off and draw him closer at the same time.
He caught her hand between his. She felt the roughness of his palm, the gentle clasp of his long fingers.
“Easy,” he said. “You must have been dreaming.”
Her entire body went hot. “I...”
After laying