Immortally Yours, An Urban Fantasy Romance (Monster MASH, Book 1) (34 page)

I was shaking and I couldn't stop, even though his arms felt warm and safe. I nudged closer. "You and your damn demi-godness of truth."
 

He held me tighter, his chuckle ruffling my hair. "I'm so glad my divinity impresses you like that."
 

"Oh, stop it. You already got the girl."
 

He laid a kiss on the top of my head. "We will get through this."
 

I nodded against him, hoping he was right.
 

"The stakes haven't changed," he said. "You just know about them now."
 

I shuddered.
 

Galen eased around so I could see him. "Are you sorry I told you?" He was so sincere, so earnest.
 

"No." I needed to know.
 

He gave a small, reassuring smile. "We're still in this fight. Events are starting to come together—for the worst and for the good. We'll make it through."
 

I barked out a laugh. "I almost believe you."
 

"You should." He kissed me on the cheek. "Here," he said, helping me nestle my head down against his chest.
 

"Wait." I tried to sit up again.
 

He rested his hands on my shoulders. "Lean into me," he said, rubbing at my tight muscles, finding the places where I was most tense. "At this moment, we're safe. We're together. Let's take it for what it's worth."
 

I rested my head against his chest, still keyed up. I understood the soldier's mentality—how it was important to rest when you could. Still, I would have loved nothing more than to storm out of the tent and do something—anything.
 

The problem was, there was nothing to do yet.
 

His fingers dug into the tightness at the back of my neck and I felt myself begin to relax.
 

Galen was right. This moment was precious. I didn't want to waste it.
 

"Calm down," he said as his fingers traveled to the soft spot where my hair began.
 

Galen was both a warrior and a protector. He'd lived with this secret. He'd fought me as I'd tried to dismiss the danger. And now he was comforting me. His fingers worked through my hair as he gave me the most amazing scalp massage known to man.
 

He worked my aching head, easing the tension, finding that tight spot at the back of my neck and rubbing the stress and the ache and the pain away. He drew his fingers through my hair with light, gentle tugging motions until there was nothing to do but groan at the pleasure of it.
 

I felt completely and thoroughly safe as he eased me into sleep.
 

It was morning by the time I woke. I rolled onto my back and gazed up at the blue skyscape over his bed. The mattress was blissfully soft under me.
 

I almost felt guilty for having slept so well after what I'd learned. But Galen was right. The rest had made me stronger, more ready. I took stock of my body.
 

My headache was gone, my mind clear. I rolled over. I needed to talk to him, work out a plan.
 

The other side of the bed was empty.
 

Wait. I ran a hand over the sheets. It didn't look like he'd even slept next to me. Which meant...
 

I stared, stunned and horrified. Did he leave to go fight?
 

Was that what he meant when he said he'd protect me?
 

I scrambled out of bed. "Galen?"
 

Nothing.
 

"Galen, are you here?" I demanded, searching the kitchen, then the front room with its gurgling fountain. "Galen?" I even went back to the mud bath room. He wasn't anywhere to be found.
 

Damn the man. He couldn't leave now. I needed him here. There was no way I could do this by myself—no way I wanted to.
 

The purple couch was empty. The tent flaps were tied closed. He wasn't here.
 

I swept the counters and tabletops. No note. No indication where he'd gone.
 

Galen wouldn't just leave...unless they'd taken him.
 

Right now, he could be on his way to defend the Mountain of Flames. And this time, he'd fight to the death. He said it himself.
 

But no.
Get ahold of yourself
.
 

He could still be here.
 

He had to be here.
 

"Galen!" I ripped open the flaps and stormed out of the tent.
 

Chapter Twenty-Three

There was no sign of him outside. "Galen!" I called, drawing stares. Half the camp seemed to walking past at that exact moment. What was this? Rush hour at the MASH 3063rd? I'd never seen so many people out at seven o'clock in the morning. Or maybe I'd just never noticed.
 

"Galen!" I shaded my eyes against the glare of the rising suns.
 

"Nice pants, Petra," a skinny mechanic called.
 

"Can it, Mitchell," I barked, scanning the growing crowd.
 

"At least she's getting some," a supply clerk called out to a chorus of snickers.
 

He wasn't among now staring faces. Damn. My heart sank. Of all the stupid times for him to be leaving me, this had to be the worst.
 

I leaned back against a wooden tent support. "Demi-god or not, I'm going to kill you."
 

"What'd I do now?" Galen asked, walking up to me buck naked save for the towel draped around his waist. Water droplets clung to his upper body and his hair was slicked back.
 

The tension whooshed out of me. "You were taking a shower?"
 

He glanced at the crowd, puzzled yet amused. "What? You didn't think I needed it?"
 

"Everybody's watching," I said under my breath.
 

He gave me a very public kiss on the head. "That's what happens when you start yelling."
 

Just shoot me now.
He was right. Our audience was growing.
 

My body tingled with embarrassment. Here I was, standing outside his tent in full morning-after mode, wearing his pants while he was in a towel.
 

All right. Fine. "Yes! I'm fucking him," I announced. "Are you happy?"
 

Half the camp burst into cheers.
 

"I have to go." No way was I heading back into the tent with Galen while the peanut gallery whooped and did hip gyrations like drunken hookers. Besides, I could stand a shower, too. And I had to take Thaïs's shift. Morning rounds started at eight o'clock. "Just promise me you won't go anywhere."
 

"I can't promise that," he said, his expression guarded, and my heart sank a little.
 

"At least promise you'll come tell me if you have to go."
 

He softened. "I'd never leave you without saying good-bye."
 

Somehow, that wasn't as comforting as I'd hoped.
 

One day at a time
.
 

And so I left him.
 

I crossed the compound, nodding at a cascade of "About time" and "Keep up the good work."
 

"I'll do my best," I said as I made my way through the gawkers. "Now shoo." Amazing how nosy people could get when there was nothing else to do.
 

The suns beat down on my shoulders and made me squint. I also realized that I'd forgotten my shoes, not that I was going back for them now.
 

The rocks in the path dug into my feet. "Why aren't you people watching PNN?" Somebody had to keep track of what was going on.
 

A burly maintenance worker shrugged. "They have a panel of experts talking about what the oracles might be thinking as they wait for the signs."
 

"That sounds productive." I walked proudly and hoped my pants would stay up.
 

"Not the seventh time around."
 

Okay, I could appreciate that.
 

The entire walk of shame only took about five minutes. Our camp wasn't that big. But it felt like an hour.
 

My hutch had never looked so good.
 

I dropped in on Rodger as he sat reading a letter on his bed. Laundry hung from the ropes on the ceiling and I could swear I felt a drip on my head, but from the look on my roommate's face, I decided not to push it.
 

"News from home?" I asked, sitting down on my cot to brush the sharp little rocks and dirt from my feet. He'd been upset last night. I hoped he was ready to talk about it.
 

Rodger bent over the single-spaced, scrawled pages. "Everything's perfect."
 

I watched him for a moment, not wanting to let him get away with it, knowing he'd fight me if I pushed.
 

"Okay," I said, standing. If he needed more time, I could give him that. I found my flip-flops and a set of my own clothes, took my shower kit, and headed out.
 

I wished I'd also grabbed my sunglasses as I weaved through the tents toward the three-stall wooden shower hutch. As far as showers went, it ranked just above the ones I'd grown up with at Girl Scout camp. That's only because our showers didn't have any spiders. Limbo was too harsh for the little buggers. Chalk one up to living in a wasteland.
 

My clothes went on one hook, my kit came in with me. I turned on the lukewarm water and praised the heavens I was the only one in here. I liked quiet showers. They let me think.
 

Cracking open the generic new army shampoo, I gave my head a squirt and tried to make some sense out of a world gone insane.
 

I felt like I should do something, know something. We were less than a hundred miles south of the hell vent that could destroy every single mortal in this camp, and here I was washing my hair.
 

Galen was a rock. No wonder he'd wanted to influence the prophecies, to stop this. He wasn't drunk on power, he was determined to save me and every other mortal in this camp. I didn't know how he could stand the secret for so long. I wanted to rush out and tell everyone I knew to run, hide, go topside. But of course that was impossible. There was no escape.
 

The only thing I had was the next prophecy. And I couldn't even watch the coverage until I finished Thaïs's shift.
 

Damn Thaïs.
 

The water went cold in under five minutes, like it always did. So I finished up my shower and put on fresh clothes.
 

There's nothing quite like being clean. With a heavy sigh, I combed my fingers through my hair. We'd get through this.
 

Somehow.
 

Rodger was still crabby when I made it back to our hutch. "Can you not bang the door so loud?"
 

He held the pink bottle of his mate's scent against his chest while he re-read the letter.
 

Enough was enough. "What is with you?" I asked, dumping my shower kit under my cot. "If Mary Ann is fine and the kids are fine, why do you look like you're going to break out a bottle of scotch?"
 

"I would, but I'm on shift in half an hour."
 

That wasn't what I'd meant.
 

He kicked out his feet, knocking over pictures on the table like dominoes. A ceramic Leonard McCoy bobblehead fell and banged against Marius's footlocker.
 

"Ouch." Poor vampire. "Is he in there?"
 

"No," Rodger said grudgingly as he snatched up his things. "Marius has retreated to his lair."
 

Good for him. "Look, I don't need your attitude right now," I told Rodger. And certainly not while sharing a twelve-hour shift. "Either tell me what's chewing on your tail or go find someplace to brood yourself, because I can't help you when you're like this."
 

He glared at me. "It's Mary Ann, okay?" he said, shoving the scent bottle into his pocket. "Look at this," he lurched out of bed and thrust the letter at me.
 

Before I could read it, he took it back. "The pilot light went out on the hot-water heater on Monday," he said, mockingly.
 

Okay.
 

Rodger read from the letter. " 'I was afraid to light it myself, so I called Bob over.' "
 

Dread settled over me. This could be bad. "Who's Bob?"
 

"Our neighbor from next door," he said, as if Bob had the nerve to live there. His finger traced along the page as he read. " 'Bob knew exactly what to do and he relit the pilot light with no problem at all.' "
 

"Well, that was nice." I hoped.
 

Rodger threw his arms up in the air. "That's my pilot light."
 

"Technically, yes," I said, getting a little sick to my stomach. I didn't know how I was going to patch him together if Mary Ann moved on. I didn't think she'd do it, but if a soldier was down here long enough, with no hope of ever coming back, it happened more often than not.
 

His face reddened. "That's my wife and my responsibility. I always lit the pilot light when it went out. Now Bob has been over to fix the banister and clean out the dryer vent."
 

Ouch. "Maybe Bob was being nice?"
 

Rodger was having none of it. "She even invited Bob over for dinner the other night because he's in his seventies and doesn't get out much."
 

There you go. "See?" What a relief. "Bob's not a threat."
 

Rodger sat down on the bed. "She doesn't need me, Petra."
 

"Oh hey." He looked so sad. "Of course Mary Ann needs you."