Page 80 of Beds and Blades

“Then we should probably figure out what that something else might be,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “We probably should.”

Skip could sense the shift in my mood. The movement from post-claiming warmth into something more tactical, more alert.

It was a strange experience, being felt that clearly.

I was used to people not even registering what was happening with my emotions, let alone having a direct line into them at all times. The adjustment was going to take time.

“You are my claimed now,” Skip said with a warmth that was entirely separate from the tactical conversation we had just been having. “There will be plenty of time. Rest first. I must attend to my duties.”

He moved across the room toward his clothes.

I enjoyed watching him cross the room, the muscles moving beneath his skin. Then he turned, and the morning sun illuminated the rest of him.

“I said there will be time for that later,” Skip said, without turning around.

The bond. Right.

He could feel my lust rising with the same clarity I could feel his. I had no emotional privacy from this man whatsoever. I was choosing to consider this a feature rather than a problem.

He turned. He was smiling.

I was interested in the mechanics of this. The bond was not telepathic. I could not hear his thoughts. What I had was his emotional state, transmitted directly, at all times. This much I had already cataloged.

What I had not fully cataloged was what had happened during the claiming itself, which had been something different. Not just his emotional content. His experience of me, transmitted directly, while he felt my experience of him.

The empathic connection was the baseline. During intimacy, the bond opened further. I felt his physical experience of me while he felt mine of him. Emotion was permanent. The recursive exchange of sensation was something else entirely. Each response passed between us and returned amplified, until there had been no clear beginning or end.

The magical mechanics behind this were fascinating.

Magical. I had an internal resistance to this word that would require active management. I was an empiricist who had landed in a world where magic was apparently load-bearing infrastructure.

Skip dressed in full leather with his sword at his side. The High Commander reconstituted from the man who had been beside me in the dark.

Skip crossed to me and kissed my forehead gently.

“Rest, my beloved.”

Through the bond, I felt what he meant by this. He could feel I was still somewhat fatigued.

I returned to the bed, still feeling the steady warmth of him, and closed my eyes.

Chapter fifteen

Varia

Iwoke to a knock at the door.

“Yes,” I said.

Varia came through with a tray of food and a smile that went immediately to the ring on my finger.

I had only ever seen her in chain mail and plate armor. Without it, she was something else entirely.

Her face was sharp and striking. She looked like someone who had never needed to soften it for anyone. High cheekbones, firm jaw, olive skin with the glow of someone who spent most of their life outdoors.

Her eyes were a steady, piercing blue. Her hair fell loosely around her face, apparently never having been introduced to a styling product and not suffering for the absence.