Lovely Eyes followed without a word from either Danni or Bravik and soon they were moving along at a deceptively fast pace which was more like a quick, swaying walk than a canter or a gallop.
The minute they had some space between their beast and Kozen’s, Bravik leaned over and muttered in her ear,
“What in the Seven Hells did you say that for? Why did you make him believe we’re Joined?”
“What else could I do?” Danni muttered. “He was getting really offended!”
She was acutely aware of the big Kindred at her back. He was so much taller than her, he seemed to loom over her and surround her with his muscular bulk, yet he was clearly taking pains to try and keep some distance between them—-which was almost impossible in the swaying saddle. At least the wind was blowing towards them, which meant that she couldn’t smell his bewitching scent at the moment—thank goodness for small mercies, as her mother used to say.
“It’s not good to start a first contact with a falsehood,” Bravik growled.
His words echoed her own inner thoughts, making Danni feel guilty.
“Again, what was I supposed to do?” she hissed. “Just abandon the mission and let the H’rakens think we were insulting them by sending them single people instead of a married couple? Clearly they have some kind of hang-up about being single—I had to say what I said!”
“We could have made our excuses and someone else could have come back in our place,” Bravik argued. “A Joined couple the H’rakens would have welcomed with open arms.”
“Who would Commander Sylvan have sent?” Danni countered. “I’m the only Medical Anthropologist aboard the Mother Ship. It’s one reason I was recruited to come up in the first place!”
“I just don’t like starting a first contact with a lie,” Bravik growled. “You’d better hope to the Goddess this little fib of yours doesn’t come back to bite us. The H’rakens seem peaceful but who knows what they’d do if they found out we were perverting their religious beliefs or subverting their social customs by pretending to be something we’re not?”
“Just relax, will you?” Danni muttered. “How hard can it be to pretend we’re married? All you have to do is hold my hand and refrain from being an asshole for a little while. I hope you can manage that.”
She felt him stiffen behind her.
“It might help me to stop acting like an asshole if you’d stop calling me one,” he rumbled.
“I’ll stop calling you one when you stop acting like one,” Danni hissed back. “In the meantime, just try to pretend we’re happily married for a little while. Hopefully once we get introduced to everyone you can go do your thing and I’ll go do mine.”
“Agreed,” he said shortly, which surprised Danni.
“What—you’re not going to give me another lecture about how I have to follow your lead because I’m inexperienced in this kind of mission?” she demanded in a low voice, half turning to face him.
“No,” Bravik said shortly. “I think you proved you can think on your feet back there so I won’t try to micromanage you. Just be damned careful what you say and report back to me every night.”
Danni was pleasantly surprised by this.
“Well…thank you,” she said, nodding. “And may I say, you’re acting like less of an asshole already.”
“Thanks, little girl,” he muttered dryly. “I mean Dr. Adams—sorry.”
For the first time, though, Danni felt a little less aggravated by the nickname.
“I guess I would seem little to someone your size,” she remarked. “You Kindred are all so huge.”
“And you Earth females are all so small,” he countered. “Like I said—tiny.”
He shifted in the saddle, as though trying to make more room between them, which made Danni like him a little more. At least he wasn’t trying to crowd her or grope her like a human man in this situation might have. He was actually at least trying to act like a gentleman.
“Look, you don’t have to try so hard to keep space between us,” she told him. “I mean, we are supposed to be married, after all. So you can scoot up if you want to.”
“Can’t,” Bravik said shortly.
“What?” She threw a glance over her shoulder. “Why not? Afraid you’ll catch cooties or something?”
“Don’t know what the fuck ‘cooties’ are,” he growled in her ear. “I can’t scoot up because your scent has me hard as a fucking rock, little girl. I’m trying not to rub my shaft against your soft little ass and piss you off.”
“My what?” This time she twisted around as far as she could so she could look at him. “What did you just say? That’s really offensive!” So much for him being a gentleman!
“I said the wind is blowing right in my face, which means it’s blowing your scent back to me,” he said patiently. “And your scent is affecting me—I can’t fucking help it. And if you think that’s offensive, you ought to feel my shaft branding your ass for a change.”