“Thank you.” She smiled at him, a slow spread of joy that lit up her whole face, and he realized it was the first real smile she’d given. The kind of smile that made you want to get up in the morning. To do great things. To go down on your knees just to beg for one more chance to put that look on her face. The kind of smile he absolutely didn’t deserve when he had every intention of proving her wrong about Val.
And yet… he would like to see that smile again. Fuck. He’d like to go down on his knees in front of her. He felt his cock twitch at the idea as his beast and body both stirred.
Nim had somehow gone from his best friend’s baby sister to being entirely grown-up. A woman now. A woman that a small, faintly stirring part of his soul saw ashis.
“If he’s innocent, I’ll help too,” Jeremiel agreed, followed by mumbled agreement from all the men.
“It would be an honor to help such a pretty lady,” Mathos added while wrapping his arm around Nim and flashing a smug grin as he did it. One more second and Tristan would have thrown him into a tree, but thankfully Nim shrugged Mathos off with a snort.
He nodded his head toward Rafael, the other Nephilim in the squad. Where Jeremiel had a gift for hearing truth, his brother’s skill lay in healing. “Check her wing, please, Rafe.”
“It’s fine.” The steel was back in her voice.
Gods, one hint of sweetness and then she was straight back to stubborn. But now he knew her weakness. She wouldn’t lie.
He looked her in the eyes and asked, “Can you fly?”
“What? I… um….”
“So that’s a no then?”
She didn’t reply, and he knew he had her.
He nodded again to Rafael and watched as the tall red-haired man quietly moved her to one side and started asking her quiet questions. She looked so small and vulnerable, her wing trembling as she held it out, that he ached to take her into his arms.
Instead, he moved the men away to give her some privacy—not because he couldn’t control himself—and began planning.
By the time Nim and Rafael had rejoined the squad, they were ready to leave. Scouts placed on rotation, two front riders, two at the back, and the two Mabin in the air. Nim would use the horse of one of whichever soldiers were in the air, swapping from time to time to keep everyone fresh for as long as possible.
They would reach the outskirts of Kaerlud before nightfall and find somewhere safe to stay. That would give them one day to try and get to the bottom of what had happened to Val. Not nearly enough time. And probably pointless anyway, since it was highly unlikely that they would find anything good.
He hated to imagine what it would do to Nim when she realized the truth about her brother. When she finally understood that Val was going to die in two days’ time, no matter how much she believed in him.
He shook the thoughts away, glad that she couldn’t read his mind, and helped her onto Garet’s destrier.
He was pleased to see that her wing was positioned better where it lay folded, and that the fine lines of tension at the sides of her eyes seemed to have eased.
For the first hour of trotting down the dusty road, Nim and Rafe rode close to each other discussing different herbs and treatments. Nim wanted to know what he’d done to cause the warmth and relaxation inside her wing, but the Nephilim had just shrugged, either unable or unwilling to tell her. She didn’t push the deeply private soldier, simply looked at him quietly, her face understanding, then she’d turned the conversation to her favorite ointments. Soon they were comparing notes on difficult cases and sharing amusing anecdotes.
Tristan knew nothing about healing, but he knew a lot about competence, and Nim had grown into a confident and capable apothecary. It struck him that he had been living his life, never really thinking about Nim, never wondering what she was doing, never considering that she might grow up and leave them all behind.
Occasionally, Val would mention different men interested in his sister. But the whole idea had seemed hypothetical. In his head, she was too young to be bothering with relationships. And he hadn’t been all that interested anyway. But now he had the reality right in his face. She was not only entirely grown up, but highly skilled, and deeply desirable—from her big eyes all the way down her strong, softly curved body; in her innate strength and kindness. Even her complete inability to lie.
Suddenly those other men didn’t seem nearly so hypothetical. And his beast didn’t like thinking of them. Not at all.
The miles passed, and the sun reached its peak. Nim and Rafe’s chatter faded away, and they rode silently except for the jingle of harnesses and belt buckles, the thudding of the horses’ hooves on the long road.
They left the forest behind and traveled past farmers’ fields, always taking the long way around any small villages they passed. Eventually he called a stop for a brief rest and to eat some cold rations while sitting at the side of a field that seemed to be filled with late carrots waiting for harvest.
Nim sat quietly to the side of the squad, alone, chewing her bread slowly as she ate. She had withdrawn into herself and looked worryingly pale. He was tempted to go and sit with her, check on her, but the smug, knowing look that Mathos gave him made him pause.
He didn’t like how attracted he felt to her. And he really didn’t like that his men knew it. Worse, she might not even want him with her. So, he stayed where he was and watched her from a distance.
He was grumpy and annoyed by the time everyone was back on the move. Nim changed to Jos’s horse, and he used the opportunity to position himself a little behind her, scowling at Mathos when he grinned.
They’d been on the road for an hour, with the men bantering in low voices—mostly Mathos telling rude jokes and Tor trying to make him shut up—when something made Tristan focus on Nim.
At first, he wasn’t sure what he’d noticed. She had become more slumped during the afternoon, her head bowed. But something had made her seem even less steady. A spike of concern from his beast made him nudge Altair closer.
