Locke looked over, interrupting his mushy thoughts.
“I need some advice. Guess you know why.” He glanced at an oblivious Maura. “Should I do it? I was only talking to her days ago. She likes me but hell, this bothers me.”
“Bothers us all,” Rutger said from the other side of Vargr. “Would worry me if it didn’t bother you.”
“Yeah.” Locke sighed and played with the rope. “My argument is she would rather be alive and thinking then be this.” His mouth had sunken into the worst of glumness.
“Yeah.” He reached over to grasp Locke’s shoulder. “I can’t tell you the exact answer, but you hit the nail on the head. Bondmating is probably the best solution.”
“I think I made my own argument. I just wish Cyn could still help her.”
He grunted. “Sure.”
“She’s been trying. She told me so, but it isn’t working anymore, just gives her migraines. She’s even forgetting things and thinks that’s linked.”
How could that be? Vargr stared at her and wondered at how callous he might be, dismissing this woman who was trying her hardest to help Maura, even though it harmed her.
“I thought nothing could damage her,” he said quietly.
“What?” Rutger looked puzzled. “It’s not harm. Not permanent. Even she has to heal damage anyway. So she feels pain.”
“Yeah. Guess so.”
Something concerned him about this. Had killing the Ghoul Lord truly done that to her? If so, how? Or was it a side-effect of the nanites altering her?
Willow might know.
“We should get Willow to check her over.”
Locke muttered ayesbut walked away, taking Maura with him. They all had their own concerns, and Maura was his. Vargr sighed. And Cyn should not be his, should she?
The bondmating wasn’t going away. Every time he saw the sway of her ass…
“I’m going to go ask Willow now.”
“Excellent idea,” Rutger said, following him. The damn grin on the beaster said it all. He knew.
“Shut up. Not one word.”
“None. Not a one.” He splayed out his hands in innocence. But he still smiled.
38
Daytwo in the Adult Quarter, or the Porn Quarter, as Rutger had laughing told her. The limp had finally made Cyn decide to say yes to Willow examining her. And also Vincent’s words.
She smiled at him as she rubbed the side of her aching left leg. They’d only just set off again after breaking camp, and she and Vincent had been walking alongside each other, though not saying much more thanhito each other until now.
“You really think I should get it checked out?”
“Yes.” He nodded, gravely, with that immense head of his bobbing so outrageously she half expected it to snap at the neck. If he had a neck. The beaster rockman was a blob of irregular proportions rather than man shaped. At least Lennox and Neo had hair. “I used to be a nurse, and that limp seems a problem. I’m told we have a long way to go.”
“Mmm.” She straightened. Others were passing them. Willow had already asked her if she needed any help. Vargr had apparently suggested she look at Cyn and that had made her, purely on reflex, say no. He wasn’t her keeper.
“Rumor has it you heal anything, so why not this?” He gestured at her leg.
“Everything still hurts for a while. Punch me, and I hurt. I guess I’ll see if she wants to do it.”
And of course when she went to jog up to the front of the convoy, her leg gave way, and pain shot up it. “Fuck.” She muttered a few quieter curses, massaged her leg again, then set off limping.
