19.
In the week since the attack, Hallowell had changed. The mood was dark, passersby tense and wary, not least because of the new checkpoints and armed patrols. Before, it was a welcoming place, full of citizens who felt safe. Impossible not to realize that Hallowell had become a city on the brink of war.
Two more loyalists had been hauled in, all Eldritch, so far. If any of them had gathered intel on Hallowell’s current plans and preparations, Sheyla had to reckon that word had reached Tycho as well. We’re as ready as we can be, she thought. Not that it helped much.
Sheyla was heading to St. Casimir’s practicum lab, finally having acquired the last ingredient to make a larger batch of Alastor’s medicine. Once this is done, I can relax a little. With brisk steps, she climbed the steps and passed through the lobby, intent on her destination.
“Do you have time now?” Dr. Seagram asked, startling her.
The man moved much too quiet for her to believe he was a bear. There must be cat blood in his family somewhere. Sheyla concealed her startle reflex as she answered him.
“Of course. What do you need?” She wasn’t always so polite, even to her colleagues, but Seagram was both her former mentor, one who had never disappointed her, and the doctor now responsible for Alastor’s treatment.
“I had a few questions about some bloodwork. It hasn’t been easy bringing myself up to speed so quickly, you know. Hard to teach an old bear new tricks.” His light eyes twinkled at that terrible joke. Beneath the levity, his intent expression told her that he understood the need for discretion.
They went to his office, talking amicably about unrelated matters. Seagram’s space never changed, always like a medical journal had exploded, papers covering every flat surface. His students had been after him to use modern technology but Seagram preferred the crackle of actual documents to the bright shimmer of a data stream.
“Thank you for not asking in the hallway,” she said, as he closed the door behind them.
“I have a modicum of common sense. What I’m wondering is…” He dug through his deluge for the results in question until he unearthed Alastor’s chart. “Here.”
The consultation took twenty minutes and at the end of it, she felt reassured regarding the serum formulation. Nothing in the results indicated a problem; it was just a matter of knowing how to chart Golgoth norms.
“Then it’s nothing to be concerned about. One thing I’ll note from the scans is that there was some increase in tumor mass, particularly in his kidneys. We’ll need to watch that.” Her expression must’ve given something away because he added, “It doesn’t require intervention yet. I just thought I’d mention it in case the prince experiences related pain or discomfort.”
Which reminded her. “Understood. Could you search for a painkiller that won’t interact with his medication? According to the patient, he was told by doctors in Golgerra that it was impossible. That seems unlikely.”
“Assholes.” That was so unlike her mentor, who was occasionally cranky, but almost never profane, that Sheyla stared. “It sounds like they wanted him to suffer.”
“I can’t disagree,” she said grimly.
With new resolve, Seagram slammed a palm on his desk, rattling his dusty geode collection. “Send me a copy of the formula you’re using for his medication. I’ll search the database personally and I won’t stop cross-referencing until I find something.”
Sheyla wasn’t normally the cuddly sort but she couldn’t resist saying, “Thanks. You know I want to hug you, right?”
“Don’t make my mate jealous, he’s the vengeful type. Settle for a hearty handshake?” Smiling, Dr. Seagram put out a large, weathered hand.
She shook it and headed to her original destination, the practicum lab. Someone was already using the machine she needed, so she took a number and waited. Not glorious work, but necessary. Two hours crept by, then she finally got to feed her ingredients in, input the formula, and then the fabricator queried: Preferred delivery format: suspension or tablet. Maybe she was overthinking it, but she wanted to create a separation between the inadequate treatment he’d received in Golgerra, so she chose the latter. More waiting as the machine got to work. At this point, she’d been at the hospital for six hours.
Her comm buzzed.
Where are you? Alastor’s face popped up, the written words spilling from his mouth. While she didn’t fiddle overmuch with personal tech—she preferred lab equipment—Sheyla had to admit this comm code was fun.
St. Casimir. I’ll be done soon.
Meet you at Ded’s room then?
Sounds good.
Forty minutes later, she had a six-month supply of pills, neatly packaged in foil, altogether more compact and less ominous than the vials. Sheyla tucked the medicine in her bag, cleared her usage history from the fabricator, and then hurried toward the critical care unit.
So far, there had been no change in Ded’s condition. There was damage to his internal organs from the poison and the Golgoth didn’t heal like the Animari.
Alastor had apparently used his allotted fifteen minutes because he was standing outside the room when she arrived, forehead pressed against the glass. While she didn’t know how it felt to lose a friend who was also sometimes a lover, she’d buried a lot of kin after the bombing. Respectfully she waited until he noticed her; she didn’t expect him to pull her into a tight embrace. In such a public place, her first instinct was to shove him back, but she quelled it and held onto him instead.
“It’s been a long day, love, and I’m badly in need of some vitamin S. I’ll be all right in a minute.”
Such a cheesy line should make her roll her eyes, but it was so obvious he meant it that she smiled and rubbed his back. “I’ve never been called a nutritional supplement before.”
“Nothing but the best for team Alastor,” he whispered into her hair.
She noticed that his braids were a mess, so he probably wasn’t exaggerating about the rough day. “Are you ready to go?”
“I don’t want to leave Ded but they won’t let me stay overnight anyway, so…” An eloquent shrug.
“It won’t help anyone if you burn out. Tell me what you’ve been up to?” She stepped back, lacing their fingers together in lieu of the hug.
As they headed for the side doors, he said, “In the morning, I patrolled with the wolves and the city militia. They’ve got a tight rotation with Korin leading a small airborne squad, so we’ll know the moment Tycho makes his move.”
“And then?” Stepping outside made her shiver and pull up her collar. Thankfully it wasn’t far to the flat, as the wind was kicking up sharp and bitter, the sky heavy with snow.
“This afternoon, I toured the factories with Furbander. We’ve already got a small munitions stockpile. They’re allocating resources to militia outposts around the city.”
“Sounds like a busy day.”
“That’s not even all of it. After the factories, I went to Old Town with Callum and received a crash course on war machines. The bears are leaving tomorrow.”
Her heart sank a little. “I don’t blame them, but it’s hard not to fear that we’ll need their forces later.”
Alastor stopped walking, tipping his head back to stare at the sky. His odd behavior drew a few looks—or that could be his unearthly charm. These days, it hurt Sheyla to gaze on him; he was such an exquisite blend of blasted beauty, thinner than he had been when they first met, feverishly glittering eyes and etched bones. “True. But I can’t ask them to give more. They’re already worried that they’ll need those machines to defend their own demesne.”
There was no reply to that, so she held her silence until they got home, where she made tea. Alastor groaned as he collapsed on the couch. “Good to be home. You know they’ve assigned Zan to guard me? He’s the one who accompanied you before.”
“That makes me feel better. He seems like a kind, friendly person.”
“Unlike most Eldritch,” he whispered.
Sheyla made a face. She didn’t like to judge, but Gavriel wasn’t about to win any congenial personality contests.
Belatedly, she remembered what was in her bag and dug out the packets with barely suppressed excitement. “Here, I have something for you.”
Confused at first, Alastor accepted the tin sheets without knowing what they were. The bubbles made it clear, once he ran his fingers over them and felt the hard curve of pills inside. Suddenly, he was as sick and miserable as he’d ever been, a knot in his stomach that no medicine could fix.
“Ah,” he said lightly. “It seems your work here is done.”
“What?” Her disappointment was obvious; she had expected cheerful thanks, no doubt, but he couldn’t manage the words.
“You’ve gotten Dr. Seagram up to speed and produced enough of this…” he flicked a thumb over the sheets, “to last a while. That means you can go home. Didn’t you realize?”
“I wasn’t thinking of that. I just… aren’t you happy, or relieved, or—”
“I should be. But I find the prospect of parting from you… well, it’s unexpectedly worse than my fear of a prolonged and painful death.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Nor was it meant to be.” He tried for a smile, suspected it was all sharp edges and teeth. “You’ve been working flat out to get me squared away. Now it’s done and there’s no reason for you to linger. I’m sure your family wants you to come home.”
“They do,” she admitted.
By the fresh shadow in her amber eyes, she hadn’t considered this aspect at all. Which was faint comfort, better than none. At least she hadn’t been working with the goal of getting away from him fresh in her mind. She had a single-minded sort of charm, where she fixated on a problem until she solved it, no mental side jaunts or pondering implications. Well enough, he did that for both of them.
“Then you should go. I don’t know which would be safer, if they have a spare vehicle for you to travel in, or if you should—”
She stopped his mouth by setting her finger across it. “Tonight, it’s too late to worry. Morning is soon enough.”
The pain eased in his chest, enough so he could breathe again. He shouldn’t reach for her, he shouldn’t, but he did. She settled against his side, her right hand curling into his left, and for a moment he had the mad impression that he could hear her heartbeat echoing his. It was an odd, electric sensation, a current running between them, that tingled the top of his head. He’d never heard of anything like it, so it was probably exhaustion combined with his imagination.
“If you insist. I also need to thank you. This…” He regarded the tin packets on his thigh. “Makes everything feel less dire. Other people get up in the morning, eat a meal, take a pill. Now I’m one of them.”
“That’s exactly how I hoped you’d feel. I was afraid you’d think I should’ve asked you before—”
“You’ve always known me, almost from the very beginning. Instinctively known things that others didn’t believe were true.”
“Alastor…”
“Yes, shalai?”
“Do you remember when I said that I was waiting for the perfect moment?”
“Of course.”
“It’s now.” Her smile was radiant, a sunbeam, a rainbow, a fusion reaction that went nuclear in his racing heart.
He didn’t hesitate, swinging her into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom. Today, his strength was sufficient for that, if only just; it wouldn’t always be, and even so, he was trembling, not just from desire, when he dropped her on the bed. Her eyes said she knew and that everything of his was good. It was hard to breathe again, not because of his lungs, because of the emotions scrambling in his chest. A few slow, deep breaths settled him somewhat, good since he didn’t want to weep the first—and possibly last—time they came together.
Like a dream, they undressed each other. Every time he saw her, it was like finding treasure: the curve of her shoulder, her muscled thighs, the softness of her skin. She didn’t smell like any lover he’d ever been with; she was astringent, herbs and disinfectant, but when her body warmed beneath his hands, his mouth, the scent ripened to an irresistible cocktail that would forever be emblazoned on him.
As pure sex.
Pure love.
She fell back or pulled him down, some delicious blend of the two, and they kissed forever. His cock was hard, but he felt as if they had all the time in the world, though the opposite was likely true. Her mouth was soft and swollen when he raised his head; Alastor’s felt the same. He loved how she was kneading his back, his shoulders, with sharp nails, urging him on like the cat she was.
It was hard to get the question out. “I’m not sure… do you want—”
To take charge. Like she had before.
She smiled. The heat of it drove all but one word from his head. Goddess. He would spend all night worshipping her.
“Tonight, I want to experience you exactly as you wish to give yourself. Is that all right?”
“Perfectly.”
Lips, throat, shoulders, breasts, belly—no part of her went untasted. Alastor learned her body as he’d wanted to, since he’d been born, it felt like. He discovered how she responded to nips and nuzzles, where she liked it hard and soft, until she was squirming beneath him, lifting her hips with quick, urgent motions.
“So, you’re a tease,” she managed eventually.
“I prefer the term ‘thorough’.”
“You shouldn’t be so calm when I feel like this. It’s unsettling.”
Laughing softly, he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh and then shifted to seal her palm over his racing heart. “Does this feel calm? Or this, perhaps?” He curled her hand around his throbbing cock, slick with the precome that accompanied his patience.
“Not so much.”
He moaned when she clenched her fingers around him, hard enough for it to seem both vicious and superb. “I want you. I wanted to make you come a thousand times, but really, I just want…ah.”
Alastor rocked into her hand for a few full, luscious strokes. Any orgasm she gave would be beyond perfection, but from the hungry light in her eyes, she wanted all he had to give.
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.
He felt it with her, if not always. Settling between her strong thighs, he shivered a little. For someone as fierce as Sheyla to give herself to him, he had no words. Her upturned face became his universe, galaxies spinning in her gaze, all the secrets of the world in her smile.
She set a hand on his hip, inviting him, inciting him. In a smooth thrust, he took her, but it was her hands guiding him, her hips that set the pace.
Overload. It was too much, too good. His mind came unhinged, so there were only bursts of impossible pleasure. His cock, as he rocked into her. His chest against hers, her legs locking around him, heels digging into his ass, demanding more.
It was impossible, impossible, but he sensed what she wanted before she asked for it. Yet he was doing it, altering his strokes, so that she responded, clenched on him, gasped and groaned beneath him, and he could feel her orgasm building. Alastor stroked her clit before she could ask, then she went wild beneath him.
Her pleasure drove his in a feedback loop, his entire body belonged to her, but she was in his head too. Her heartbeat slammed in time to his, and he took her mouth, half-crazed with the need to taste, to claim, even as pleasure spiked.
He was almost there when she tensed and rolled. They managed to swap positions with his cock still inside her, and then she was holding him down, her back arching as she came. Close, he knew he was close, but her face as she went, the clutch of her cunt, sent him straight over. Alastor held her hips as he stroked a few more times, savoring the feel of his juices mingling with hers. She kissed him feverishly, open-mouthed, and greedy. Spent and boneless, he admired the sweaty dishevelment he’d created, as Sheyla dropped her head on his chest. He’d never felt closer to anyone in his life. They stayed together through the aftershocks, with him stroking her glistening back.
“I’m hungry,” Sheyla declared eventually. “That was some top notch fucking.”