The rain wasn’t nearly cold enough.
Vivian turned as soon as she’d made sure Olvir’s skull was intact. She was reasonably good at keeping a neutral expression on her face, but she didn’t want to test her skill just then. Touching Olvir, who felt like warm iron through his armor, had left her more than a little heated herself.
“I know I’ve got a slice across the back of my right leg,” she said, trying to distract herself, “and a couple on my side. None of them feel very deep.”
Olvir cupped her right leg. “This one doesn’t strike me as bad,” he agreed after a moment. “It’s still bleeding, though. I could clean it out, but I’m not sure it would be very helpful while we’re walking through this storm.”
“No matter. Our wounds always heal cleanly.”
“Oh,” he said. “I should have known that, I suppose, since I never see any of you with the herbalists. I’ll bandage it at least.”
That was a quick process. He was deft at it, too, tucking the trailing ends into the top of Vivian’s boot afterward. Her other leg came next, her thighs and arse after that, while she stood with locked muscles, wanting the process to go on even though she didn’t think she had the discipline to go another minute. Although there were layers of wet leather blocking them, Olvir’s hands left a trail of spreading sensation along Vivian’s skin.
She heard him catch his breath once. Because she was vain, and because she liked that particular method of self-torment, Vivian wondered if it meant he appreciated what he felt.
More pain bloomed in her side when he prodded that. “I’m sorry,” said Olvir when she hissed. “I don’tbelieveyour ribs are broken, but it’s a near thing. No surprise either. When you landed, I thought… I didn’t think you’d get up again.”
“I wasn’t sure I would either,” she said. “Bleeding?”
“Not very much. I expect that it should be all right without a bandage. I can’t swear you haven’t torn some bit of your insides loose, mind.”
“Nothing to be done if I have.”
“I suppose that’s true,” he said reluctantly and went onward.
Vivian was doing all right until he reached her neck. She’d assumed the…well, not the worst, most certainly not the worst, but the most demanding part was over once they’d gotten above her waist, since Olvir was only working on her back. The pressure on her spine was nice, granted, but the knots in her muscles there took priority over arousal. She’d begun to relax.
Then his fingers traced up her neck, over a spot that had always driven her a little mad under the right circumstances. These were not them, but her senses didn’t give a damn. Olvir’s touch, without the barrier of wet leather, drew a gasp from her that the sound of the rain did nothing to hide.
Naturally, Olvir stopped. “Did that hurt?” he asked. He was likely trying to ask an honest question, but his voice came out lower than normal and with a smoky quality to it.
“No,” Vivian said before she realized that lying would have been a better idea.
“Ah.”
Silence followed, hot and awkward.
“I’m sorry,” Vivian said. “You know how it is, I’m sure. Survival instinct, attractive companion, and so on. I should’ve had more self-control, though. We can ignore all this.”
Her skull was probably fine, she decided. She’d started to turn when Olvir spoke again. “That’s, er, a situation I’m very well acquainted with. As in, one I have present experience of, I might say.”
It wasn’t the most explicit statement Vivian had ever heard. She had no doubt at all about its meaning all the same. His voice didn’t allow for any. Neither did the expression on his face when she did turn: color high on his cheekbones, his eyes wide and dark. Hunger had never looked so stark to Vivian.
Risk paled in the face of that desire: the man had doubtless bedded other people after all. Whatever would get the fragment of the Traitor to emerge, it probably wasn’t a few hours of pleasure. “Then,” she told him, “I’d say the time for ignoring things has passed.”
Olvir’s hands closed on her upper arms. He didn’t grip hard or close the few inches between them, but Vivian understood the restraint it took for him to hold off.
“Vivian,” he breathed.
“Yes,” she said, then sighed. “But…you know it can’t be now.”
“No.” Olvir groaned softly. That alone was enough to make Vivian catch her breath. “Not for days, like enough,” he went on, the softly burred accent of southern Criwath creeping back beneath the polish he’d clearly learned in the knighthood. “Gods, after that fight we probably shouldn’t sleep tonight.”
“You’re not wrong.” The bear, and the noise they’d made, would give enemies a point to start tracking them. They needed to get significantly ahead of any such pursuit, even if they didn’t know it existed. Vivian wouldn’t feel truly safe stopping for the night until Ulamir had returned from the place where he rested after the fault lines.
Olvir grimaced. “I really had no need of another reason to loathe Thyran. For the future, then.”
He leaned forward. Their lips met, lightly, gently, but with a world of tension on both sides. To let go would mean distraction, and letting go was damned tempting. Vivian allowed herself to cup Olvir’s face in her hands as her mouth opened beneath his to slide her tongue along his lower lip, to twine her fingers into his tangle of wet hair, but no more.
