Ravyn's Flight (17 page)

As if sensing this, Ravyn picked up the conversation. “At least you had your brother with you. Even though you say you weren’t close, it must have been a comfort to know he was there if you needed him.”

“He wasn’t with me,” Damon said, fighting to keep the pain from his voice.

“What?”

Damon hissed. He couldn’t help it. The yank she gave the thread narrowed his vision to a tunnel. Resolutely, he fought the darkness bearing down on him. If he passed out it would scare her. He swayed and felt her slip an arm around him. When the roaring in his ears subsided enough so he could hear again, he realized Ravyn was calling him “honey.” Only the dizziness kept him from grinning broadly. When his head cleared a bit more, he realized she was crying. That cured any thought he had of smiling. His own hand wasn’t quite steady as he raised his fingers to wipe the tracks from her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” Damon shifted and rubbed his nose against hers. He kept the contact until he saw her calm down. “Can you finish patching me up?” he asked quietly. He didn’t know what he would do if she said no.

“Yes.” She gave him a squeeze before moving back to her original position. Her touch was exquisitely gentle, as if she could now sense the pain he tried so hard to mask. The tentativeness, however, increased his discomfort. He needed her to stop being so careful and do it. Instead of telling her this, he decided to take her mind off of what she was doing again.

“My brother went to St. Bart’s. It’s tradition the oldest Brody male attend that particular school.”

“Why didn’t you go there too?”

“I did the first two years. Then my parents heard about a school in Virginia. They weren’t going to anger my grandfather by moving my brother, but there was no reason not to send me there.” He shut his eyes, suddenly unable to keep them open any longer. At least Ravyn moved faster now.

Damon could hear Ravyn talking, but couldn’t make out what she said. Her voice buzzed in his mind and he tried to focus, tried to pick out the words, but the effort overwhelmed him. He didn’t resurface until he heard her calling his name.

“What?” he asked, not opening his eyes.

“I’m done. Should I find something to cover the stitches?”

He frowned as he tried to come up with the answer. It was in his head somewhere. His lips curved as the information came to him. “Bandage. Vest.” He tried to connect the words, but the pounding in his head obliterated the idea before he could manage it. Damon groaned at the slight pressure near the wound. Then it ended. Hands rested on his shoulders, helped him back to the ground. It couldn’t have felt better if he’d had a bed.

“Sleep, honey, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

With those soft words still ringing in his ears, Damon fell back into a place where there was no pain.

*** *** ***

When Damon woke again, his head still hurt, but nowhere near as badly as before. From what he could see of the sky, he pegged it as late afternoon. He started to push himself into a sitting position and Ravyn was instantly there, her arm offering support.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“Better.” His dry throat hurt. “I need some water.”

She had the canteen uncapped and would have held it to his lips if he hadn’t taken it from her. When he’d quenched his thirst, he returned it. He still felt weary even after sleeping all day, and Damon shifted until he could lean against the face of the rock. They needed to keep moving, but he knew it wouldn’t be tonight. He didn’t know where they were, didn’t know what kind of protection Ravyn had found for them, but he had to trust her.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she admitted, settling next to him. “You just went out. One minute we were having a normal conversation, the next you were barely coherent. I didn’t know if that meant trouble or not.” Ravyn took a deep, shuddery breath. “I didn’t even know if I should try to wake you every hour or let you sleep. I decided to let you rest.”

“I’m fine, Ravyn. Did the stitches work?” He opted not to tell her that standard first aid manuals recommended waking a concussion victim every hour and asking some basic questions. He was okay and it would just upset her.

“Yeah, you stopped bleeding. All I have to say is you better not get hurt again.”

Damon smiled at her fierceness. “I’ll do my best.”

She smiled back, the cloud over her beautiful gold eyes lifting. “Are you hungry?”

He had to think about that one. “Yes.” Maybe if he ate something, this weakness in his body would dissipate. He might not be ready to run tomorrow, but they damn sure were moving out at first light. They couldn’t stay here any longer.

It didn’t take more than a few bites to realize he was starving. Ravyn kept supplying him with food, but didn’t have any herself. He paused. “You ate already?” At her nod, he relaxed, sure she was taken care of, and resumed eating. When he’d finally had his fill, Damon closed his eyes and shifted into a more comfortable position.

“Any sign of the killer?” he asked. His voice was low in deference to the increased pounding in his head. He figured the answer was no, but he had to ask.

“No,” Ravyn said. He sensed her shift so that she faced him. “Are you sure he trailed us?”

“He was there.” He opened his eyes and turned his head so he could see her. “I felt him coming up on our backs.”

Hesitation played across her face and then she must have decided he was strong enough to have a discussion. “I could hardly see you at one point and I had hold of your hand. Plus our tracks would have been obliterated almost instantly by that downpour. How could he follow us in that weather?”

Damon reached for her, linked their fingers. Her touch soothed something inside him. “I don’t know, but he managed.”

“Do you think he’s still there, biding his time?”

It wasn’t easy, but Damon focused on the world around them. He didn’t sense the malevolence that he’d felt dogging their steps and the back of his neck didn’t tingle. “I don’t think so,” he said, “but I don’t know how we lost him. Things are kind of a blur after the tree came down.”

Ravyn smiled at him. “You mean you don’t remember knocking me to the ground and rolling around?”

“Well, hell, I always miss the good stuff. Was it more fun than the last time we took a tumble?” Her blush peeked through the mud and Damon grinned. He wondered why she started the teasing when she embarrassed more easily than he did.

“Hmm, no. It was more exciting last time when you were fully conscious. Although, now that I think about it, I missed a great opportunity to take advantage of you.”

Damon laughed, then winced as his body protested the noise and the additional movement. Her face had reddened so deeply that she looked sunburned, but he liked the fact that she didn’t back down easily. There had been damn few women who could keep him on his toes and he bored easily with timid females. One thing he could admit readily, Ravyn was never boring. Even if she could talk a man’s ear off.

“Sweet pea, any time you want to take advantage of me, you just climb aboard.”

“Liar,” she laughed at him. “You’re too worried about distractions to mean that.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, lifting her hand. He kissed her palm before teasing it with his tongue. Her pupils had dilated by the time he lowered it again, he noted with satisfaction. “Our time is coming, Ravyn, as soon as we’re safe.”

“The question is,” she said seriously, “is what we’re feeling for each other more than an attraction fostered by the danger and the intimacy of this situation?”

“I can’t speak for you, but I’ve been in circumstances I consider more dangerous than this one.” Damon reached with his free hand and tilted her chin up so she could see his eyes, see he meant what he said. “I’ve never reacted like this. It’s you. It’s us together. And it’s not just physical.”

“No, I know it’s not.” She put her hand over his where it rested on her face. For a moment, she studied him, then smiled. “Do you realize how filthy we are again? What would it take to talk you into stopping for a bath first thing tomorrow?”

Ravyn pulled back from him and moved to the vests. He doubted she was looking for anything in particular; she just wanted to end the conversation. Damon sighed silently and let her. He had read the confusion, the questions in her eyes and knew she wasn’t ready to discuss their relationship yet.

“I think you’re to blame. I’ve never been this dirty on a mission before,” he teased to lighten the mood.

“Me? I’ll have you know even as a child, climbing trees and sliding into third base, I remained nearly immaculate. And I’ve been on Jarved Nine for eight months without getting covered with mud. It must be your fault.”

Damon couldn’t move fast, not yet, but he was swift enough to wrap his arms around Ravyn, keeping her own arms pinned at her sides. “Take that back,” he demanded, his mouth near her ear.

“Never,” she insisted, but was wise enough, he noted, not to try to wriggle free.

He took a deep breath and froze, all playfulness forgotten. Slowly, he released Ravyn and sat back, his mouth tightening. He raised his arm to his nose and breathed deeply again.
Yeah.
Realization momentarily distracted him from the pain. A few things started to make sense that hadn’t before. Too bad it had taken a whack in the head to get his brain working on something other than getting Ravyn out of her clothes.

“Are you okay?” Ravyn was at his side almost instantly, concern all over her face.

“You smell like dirt.”

“Well, gee, thanks. I told you I needed a bath. And you don’t smell so great yourself,” Ravyn groused.

He looked at her, his expression sober. “Covered with all this dried mud, we both smell like dirt.”

She began to look scared. “Is your head hurting you again?” She pressed her palm to his forehead, as if testing for fever.

“Ravyn,” he said, taking her hand and lowering it away from his face. “I think he’s tracking us by scent. When we’re clean, he can follow us, but when we’re coated with mud, we smell more like the land and that must confuse him.”

“What makes you think that?” she asked, clearly not enthusiastic about his theory.

“Because he was on our trail yesterday. He should have caught up with us by now, but he hasn’t. It wasn’t the storm that discouraged him, it was our getting covered with mud again.”

She still didn’t seem convinced.

“The day of the mud fight, he must have crossed our path higher up the hill,” he argued. “He should have been able to follow our footprints right to us, but he didn’t. Because he isn’t using his vision, he’s using his sense of smell.” He gave her hand a squeeze and said, “Maybe I’m wrong, but just in case, no more baths.”

He thought Ravyn was going to cry.

CHAPTER TEN

Stacey didn’t know why she’d ever believed Alex Sullivan to be her Prince Charming. She stared across the almost empty equipment bay at him, watching his throat work as he swallowed. She turned away, both regret and resignation in her heart. He treated her like a naive, stupid pushover.

Okay, maybe she was a bit naive. She’d grown up on a farm, the nearest town had been nothing but a blip on the map, and her high school graduating class had totaled thirty-five. The two years she’d spent in comm school hadn’t given her much chance to experience big-city life. The demanding program left little time for anything save sleeping and studying. Joining CAT had put her right back in rural America. Kansas this time instead of Iowa. And while CAT team members would take the flash train into Topeka from time to time, they’d always gone in groups.

She wasn’t stupid, however, or a pushover. It took smarts to get into comm school, let alone complete the program with honors, and CAT only took the best of the best. And if she’d been a pushover, she’d still be living in Iowa. Married to her high school boyfriend, having his babies and helping him farm. Her family had expected it; her boyfriend and his family had expected it. It hadn’t been easy to hold out against all the pressure she’d faced, to continue to commute seventy kilometers every day to her job at the granary. It had taken six years of hard work and ruthless scrimping to save enough money to pay for comm school. Her family still hadn’t forgiven her for leaving.

She looked away from Alex before he caught her staring. There wasn’t much to see in the converted equipment bay. One area had patched-up workout machines, a small punching bag and a larger, heavier bag. The side she and Attila used had a thickly padded floor to cushion falls and nothing else.

“Let’s try that again,” Alex said, ending the break.

Stacey bit back a groan. At this late hour, everyone but the flight crew on duty was asleep. She wanted to curl up in bed herself. It had been a long day. The sadist she’d once thought perfect had rousted her at some untenable hour and forced her to run laps. And do sit-ups, push-ups and other horrible things. She might never recover.

“Do you know what time it is?” she asked.

“Get this one move down and we’ll call it a day,” Alex said.

Stacey didn’t know why she stayed. It certainly wasn’t to spend time with Alex. Even though she had discovered what an arrogant tyrant he was, her body continued to react to his nearness. She wanted nothing more than to keep her distance, but she couldn’t avoid touching him during these training sessions. He would grab her and she was supposed to execute some maneuver or another to get free. Only, when he held her close to his body, the last thing she wanted was her freedom. Her weakness left her angry with herself. I’m not a pushover, she repeated silently to herself.

“Ready?”

“Yes. Let’s get this over with.” She braced herself for Alex’s assault on her senses and felt the small hairs on her arms stand on end as he came up behind her and wrapped his forearm around her throat. His scent teased her; the warmth of his body enveloped her. Stacey lost track of the move she was supposed to make.

“Don’t worry about hurting me, I’ve got plenty of pads on,” Alex said. “I want you to go all out.”

Stacey felt his breath against her ear as he spoke. It took a minute for his meaning to register and she was grateful he attributed her hesitancy to a reluctance to injure him and not to her body running riot at his closeness.