He wished she’d yell at him. But she never had, even though he’d basically cut her off after he’d promised ‘to try’.
As he watched Rachel fold a cloth into her hand and wipe down the blade, desire for her rose as it always did, like a hurricane within his body. She was his woman, his breh, the one destined to bond with him. And he craved her. Even though they’d dated off-and-on for decades, what he felt for her now was beyond description, an ache in his groin, his soul, a profound vibration through his sliced up heart.
She turned toward him. Her lips parted and he understood why. The breh-hedden had added a pair of inciting scents to the picture the moment sexual desire rose. No doubt, she smelled his need, which she’d said reminded her of spicy ale.
“Duncan,” she said softly, a plea in her voice.
But he couldn’t act on what he felt. He’d tried to tell her what was wrong, but he found it impossible to explain why being close to her cut him up inside. He’d called it a snake that bites.
Despite his almost painful craving for her, he turned on his heel and headed toward the entrance to Militia Warrior HQ. He wondered what Merl had meant when he suggested his disconnect from Rachel was part of his issue in not being able to harness his grayle power.
Was it possible Rachel was the key to opening up his Third Earth abilities?
~
Rachel watched Duncan go, her gaze fixed for a long moment on his broad shoulders, then moving down the beautiful line of his back. Duncan had a perfect physique with a lean waist and a firm warrior’s ass. The sexy, black leather kilt gave her all kinds of ideas. When she’d caught his spicy ale scent, she’d almost thrown herself at him. She needed him badly and still didn’t really understand why he’d cut her off.
She knew he was in pain, enduring a kind of torment she might never fully understand. His father had been a cruel man and his mother had disappeared when he was six. She’d come to believe the combination of both circumstances had poisoned her man. It was possible he’d never come back to her despite the pull of the breh-hedden.
Meanwhile, she kept her tears to herself.
She finished cleaning off her dagger then slid it into her battle-harness.
Luken called to her. “You did good tonight, Rachel. Thanks for stepping up.”
She waved in his direction, but she was too tired to offer more than a half-smile. She thought Luken was one of the finest men she’d ever known, much in Duncan’s mold. The problem was Duncan didn’t believe he was worth a damn. Maybe that was why she had tremendous grace for him right now. And she loved him. He was her man, her breh.
She rotated her throwing arm slowly then pulled her elbow with her opposing hand to stretch a few of her nagging back muscles. She was exhausted, as usual, from the night’s work, and really sore in a variety of places. It was a testament to a month’s training that she no longer lost her cookies at the sight of blood or blown-up wreckers. For the past month the team had either battled death vampires at the Second Earth Borderlands as part of their training, or faced off with wreckers in the Third Earth darkening grid.
And of course, since Yolanthe now had a bead on Duncan, the game had taken a brand new terrifying turn.
She was learning a lot, but progress was way too slow. The entire team lived with a constant sense of urgency, a collective need to be heading to Third. From the beginning, Endelle’s vision had made it clear the fate of two worlds depended on the black ops team getting to Third and doing some good, especially Duncan and Luken.
Luken was worried, though he hid it well. Merl was right. How could a team of Second ascenders hope to do battle against the most powerful forces on Third Earth? The disparity in preternatural power alone made the situation untenable. But none of the men were quitters and each would die doing all they could to make the team work.
She was no different. Once having committed to becoming a warrior, she was all in.
She headed to the bathroom and did a superficial clean-up, removing as much of the blood spatter as she could. She didn’t like to shower at HQ, but she wasn’t exactly ready to head home either.
Her black leather flight suit and weapons harness would have to be laundered. She had twelve battle suits in all and now understood why Luken had insisted so many were necessary.
Every night ended in some kind of damage to her uniform and so sweat-stained both laundering and mending were needed by the time dawn rolled around.
Besides, she had an itch and she was hoping against hope maybe she could talk Duncan into sharing her bed tonight. She’d caught his scent. He wasn’t indifferent to her. Maybe she could seduce him, despite his troubled spirit.
Well, a woman could dream.
CHAPTER TWO
Change comes,
Not when the spirit grows willing,
But when the battle has exhausted the flesh.
Collected Proverbs -- Beatrice of Fourth
Endelle sat on the side of her chaise-longue in her secret, India Two home. Her tigers roared at her monkeys, who in turn kept screeching their replies.