It had been exhausting and oddly transactional, very much like Brenner. It left her sated and a little bitter afterwards, as if they had used each other.
Her body remembered it differently. Her body felt his palm on the back of her neck and his teeth against her lips and was instantly, shockingly ready.
Right here. Right now. I am alive and I want to feel…something…
Brenner let go of the dagger hilt and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her off balance, just a little, just enough so that she had to either grab at him or step back.
And then, for no particular reason, she remembered Caliban holding her up in the streambed, until she could get her feet under her.
Slate stepped back.
“What wasthatall about?”
Brenner grinned down at her. “Just sayin’ thank you, darlin’.”
“You could justsay it, like normal people.”
“Ah, where’s the fun in that?” He wiped his mouth. “And you were right there for it, too. For a moment, anyway.”
“Yeah, well…” She glanced away. “Old habits die hard.”
“Can’t blame a man for trying. Still dreaming about tall, blond, and guilty? It’s a bad idea. Never date a man prettier than you, it never ends well.”
Slate snorted loudly. “Are you daft? I never come between a man and his self-loathing.”
“You’re a poor liar, darlin’. I’d say stick to figures, but thatwasa pretty sweet rescue the other night, even if you should look before you leap.”
She dug an elbow into his ribs. “I looked for a good twenty minutes! It’s not my fault that they were all tucked around the edge of the building like that.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m not complaining.” He slung an arm around her shoulders as they walked back down the hillside. “Just want you to know, you ever find yourself getting cold at night…”
“With Grimehug sleeping over my legs like that? I’ll let you know.”
“You do that.”
They were halfway back to camp, where Learned Edmund was trying to do the dishes without Grimehug helping, and Caliban was doing something obscure to the horses’ tack. Brenner began rolling a cigarette. “One other thing…”
“Hmmm?”
“Our paladin.”
“What abou—gaah!” Slate sneezed several times in rapid succession. “About him?”
“You okay, darlin’?”
Slate rubbed at her nose. “Dunno. Allergies, probably. But what about the paladin?”
Brenner shrugged. “Probably nothing. But that demon-rune was awfully interested in him. She was muttering into his ear in god-knows-what kinda language for a good few minutes before she started strangling him.”
“Yeah, I saw some of that. Well, and so?”
He put the cigarette in his mouth. “Like I said, probably nothing.” A match hissed, and he lit the end quickly, then shook it out. “But he didn’t talk in his sleep last night.”
Slate had her sleeve over her nose, but looked up startled.
“You think something happened to his demon?”
Brenner shrugged and flicked the match away. “What do I know about demons? Just thought I’d mention it, darlin’.”
