Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)
You Don't Need To Ask

With shelves of wood stacked in a smoke house and hot coals in a covered iron skillet underneath, they retreated to the kitchen for a hearty dinner of thick, meaty stew. Hisham was especially pleased. So pleased, in fact, that he jumped at the chance to thank his hostess by helping with the cleanup. Merrid flushed at the handsome young man’s enthusiasm and the pair settled to a pleasant discussion of meat cuts and spices.

“This Immortal’s bad news, ain’t he?” Ard asked, pouring water into a pot on the stove. He picked up a jar of ground coffee beans and a spoon and raised his brow in question. Llew shook her head as Jonas and Braph nodded, and Ard put three heaped spoonfuls of the coffee into the pot before seating himself back at the table.

“For Aenuks, at least.” Jonas sat forward, leaning his elbows on the now empty table. “Hard to imagine he’ll stop there, though. What do you reckon you’d do if you were stronger and faster than everyone and knew you’d live another thousand years?”

“I’d say I’d be pretty satisfied with my lot,” said Ard. “My home satisfies my needs, and I have my best friend to see me through the quiet times.” He threw a smile up at Merrid who returned a warm one over her shoulder. “Stronger and faster, you say? I s’pose that’d make the farming a little easier.”

“Ah, Ard.” Jonas rocked back in his seat, his eyes sparkling. “Reckon the world would be a better place if it had more men like you in it.”

Llew smiled to think of the farmer as an Immortal. She believed he truly would be satisfied to live his extended life just as he did now.

Ard stood again, lifted the lid on the pot, stirred its contents, lined up three metal cups, and poured a measure of the rich brown liquid. “Cream?”

Jonas opted for black, while Braph accepted cream. Ard placed their cups before them and turned back for his, grabbing up a small box on his return. “Anyone up for euchre?”

“I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage for such games.” Braph lifted his stump from the tabletop.

Ard’s face dropped, then lit and he stood again, going to a shelf. He returned with a board covered in ivory and black squares, and another box. “Checkers?”

Braph smiled. “Now that I can do.”

Fear flared in Llew on seeing that smile. As usual, though, anger swiftly took its place. The sight of it fired memories she wished she could erase.

Jonas stood abruptly, excusing himself and Llew. He slid his jacket on and held Llew’s for her, which she slid into gratefully. Despite the darkness outside, he gathered his hat in one hand and collected his coffee with the other. He reached past her to turn the handle. What? Was she incapable of turning a simple brass knob? She screwed up her face at him and he tipped his cap to her. She felt his hand pat her arse as she took her first step outside and bit her lip on the thrill of the touch. They shouldn’t insult their hosts, she knew that, but there were other needs that had to be addressed, too, and patience was wearing thin.

Llew’s feet crunched down the cart-way, her knuckles pressed into her trouser pockets. Jonas took a couple of skipping steps to catch up beside her. With his empty hand in his pocket, his other kept warm by coffee, he knocked her shoulder with his, enticing her to share a flash of teeth. Then he pulled his empty hand free, slid it down her arm till she relinquished her own fingers to the cold night air, and he locked his in between.

“One way or another, it’ll all be over soon.” He swung their hands, forcing a sense of the carefree.

“That sounds... ominous.” Llew scowled into the night, the twin green flash from the back of an animal’s eyes had her fingers tightening on Jonas’s for a moment. She schooled herself to loosen her grip. She’d lived over half a decade on her own amongst the wilderness. Llew didn’t jump at silly tricks of the night. Much.

“It’s realistic.” Jonas stopped and turned to her. They’d barely made it past the rear of the house. The dark alley to the underground bunker lay behind him. “I promise you I will give my all against Aris, and we’re gonna go in there as prepared as we can be, but I ain’t gonna pretend that a few untested munitions are gonna be enough to drastically alter the outcome.” He sucked down a sip of coffee, glancing into the dark like they were chatting over the family finances. Grimacing at the taste or temperature, he turned back to Llew. “One way or another, are you prepared to spend an eternity with me?”

Llew spat out a laugh. Jonas looked at where some of her spittle had landed in his coffee. She pressed the back of her free hand to her mouth, watching him over it. “Was that … Was that a proposal, or …?” she asked, the words muffled by her hand. She was lost for words. She hadn’t been one to dream of the day this would happen, but if she’d ever considered it, it had never gone quite like … this.

Jonas shrugged. “Well, I figure over the next week we die together, or we scrape ourselves up from wherever we’ve landed, fight our way out of Turhmos and, well …” He shrugged again, scowling into the dark liquid briefly. “I just reckon it’s easier goin’ into a fight to the death knowin’ there’s somethin’ to go home to at the end. Some sorta … soft landin’, I guess.”

Llew dropped her hand by her side. “And here I thought we were coming outside so you could hurl me on the ground a few more times. For training, or … other reasons.”

Jonas gave her a patient look. “You didn’t answer me.”

And she didn’t want to. Marriage meant submission, and Llew was not ready to submit and doubted she ever would be. Quite simply, marriage didn’t feature in her plans for her future. Didn’t mean she didn’t want to be with Jonas, maybe even forever, but she would not marry. She would not submit.

Llew stepped in, gripped the rim of his coffee mug between thumb and forefinger, swung it out beside her and dropped it. The liquid dulled the metallic ring. “More importantly, right now, I don’t want to die with Braph having been the last man who... touched me.” She gripped his shirt and swung into the dark of the narrow alley so her back was against the house. His hands caught the wall either side of her.

They stood like that for a moment, eyes locked on each other’s, both breathing fast and shallow as if they’d already done the deed.

“What if it don’t fix it?” Jonas asked.

“If it doesn’t fix it then I’m in exactly the same place I’m at now. You can’t make it worse. Besides,” she pressed a hand to his cheek, “I’m not dying without knowing your touch again.” She let her hand slide down, down his neck, down his shirt, slid her fingers behind his belt and tugged his hips towards her.

His eyes flared, then he shook his head at the ground. “I was gonna be the better man. Show you the respect you deserve...”

“You do.”

His eyes shifted across her face, but his thoughts were turned inward, like he was planning his next words carefully. He gave himself a minute nod.

“I—” The utterance went all to pieces around a thickening throat. He turned his head to clear it, and turned back to her. “I— I’d like to kiss you,” he said, his voice trembling like he’d never been with a woman before.

Llew felt the warm glow of desire and an overwhelming urge to laugh. It was either the sexiest or the silliest thing she’d ever heard.

“You don’t need to ask.”

“Yes. I do.”

The urge to laugh disappeared.

The first man to kiss her, other than her father, had done it while he knelt over her in her childhood bed, his lips wet and squishy, his breath putrid. Her friend, Kynas, had initiated their intimacy with ‘Let’s practice some kissing,’ which, Llew supposed, was asking her, in a way. Kynas’s way. He hadn’t expected, and probably wouldn’t have accepted, a ‘no.’ Her first intimate encounter with Jonas had been spontaneous and what she wanted, but it had not floored her like this.

“I’d like to kiss you,” he repeated, more confident this time.

Llew nodded. “Okay,” she said, breathless. She cleared her throat and repeated, matching his confidence, “Okay.”

He pushed off the wall and rested his hands on her shoulders, slid his fingers down her arms and, clasping her hands down by her sides, he brought his lips to hers. The three-point contact set Llew alight like she hadn’t felt since the afternoon of Gaemil’s ball, possibly not ever. This was different.

She had half-believed, when she reached this moment, that thoughts of Braph would flicker in her memory, diminishing, if not obliterating, her enjoyment. That wasn’t to be. Any similarity between what Braph had done to her and what she was experiencing was non-existent.

Jonas kissed tenderly at first, teasing, testing, tantalizing. He tasted of coffee, which was enough like chocolate to elicit memories of a certain afternoon. She parted her lips and he enticed her with his tongue. And just when she wanted him to taste her deeply, he bent to trail kisses down her throat and chest, peeling her shirt back and leaving her wanting even as he delivered.

Stones scuffed and a throat cleared.

Jonas straightened and they turned to face Merrid, the dull light of the cloud-covered moon illuminating one half of her, and a heavy, smoking pan held awkwardly by her hip. The heat of guilt warmed Llew’s cheeks.

“Was coming to add some coals to the drying shed.”

Llew and Jonas shuffled deeper into the alley, fingers knitted. Jonas swept the drying shed’s door open for the farmer’s wife. They smiled friendly smiles and struggled to make eye contact with the woman, even though it made little difference in the dark.

Merrid bent to slide the pan beside the other one, stepped back, and pushed the door shut.

She cleared her throat again. “I know all too well that when two young people want to be together, they will find a way. I don’t know how it is in Quaver, but here in Turhmos unmarried couples are discouraged from carrying on with each other. Much as we disagree with Turhmos on some things, that is mine and Ard’s way, too, and we would ask that you respect that.” With a curt nod, she turned to head back up the cart-way.

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