Shifter Planet (33 page)

Chapter Fifty-Two

E
lise had tried to persuade Amanda to return to the Leveque Industries starliner which was waiting in Harp orbit. Apparently
Randy
had commandeered the luxury ship for this trip to visit Amanda—one of the perks of belonging to a preeminent industrial family. From what she could gather, they’d been in orbit for more than a week, waiting for her return.

She had politely declined her mother’s offer. The last thing she wanted was a return to space with its recycled air and claustrophobic environment. Not to mention water-saving showers. What she wanted was her comfortable, familiar apartment with its decadent bathtub, its big, soft bed, and Rhodry. She’d have to settle for two out of three, which wasn’t bad.

Elise had put up only a token argument. In the final analysis, she really did know her daughter. She
had
insisted on medical treatment first, cleaning and bandaging Amanda’s many injuries and pumping her full of antibiotics. The thigh injury was going to leave a terrible scar. As Elise had observed with some disgust, the healing process was already too far along for treatment to make a difference now. She was quick to point out, however, that reconstructive surgery would be an option in just a few months.

Personally, Amanda thought she’d leave it—a lasting memento of her first (and hopefully last) encounter with an ice bear.

While her mother worked, she delivered a decidedly censored recitation of her journey. Admiral Leveque made a brief appearance, mostly, she thought, to reassert his claim on Elise. Her mother didn’t seem to mind, and since Elise’s happiness was important to both Amanda and Leveque, they were both polite and something that resembled friendly.

By the time the visit was over, she was exhausted, with barely enough energy to walk the short distance to her apartment and climb the stairs. Cullen carried her gear without being asked, and dropped it just inside her door.

“I’ll be downstairs for a bit, lass, if you need anything.”

“Go home, Cullen,” she said wearily. “Or wherever it is you’re staying. I’m not going anywhere tonight, and besides I’ve lived in this apartment by myself for a long time. Trust me. I’m fine.”

“Of course you are, lass. I’ll just hang around for a bit.”

She watched him glide down the stairs with shifter grace, and wondered what it was with these Devlin males that made them so damn certain of themselves all the time.

“And why are you wasting your time wondering about Devlins, when you could already be soaking in the tub?” she muttered, closing the door. If Cullen wanted to lurk in the shadows of her perfectly safe street, it was no skin off her nose.

S
he was drowning. The water was rising over her head, filling her nose, trickling down her throat to her lungs. It was cold and…it smelled like lavender?

Amanda sat up in the big tub, sputtering, choking on bath water. She’d fallen asleep, lulled by the hot, scented water, by the soft light of the candles she’d lit all around. And she’d been out long enough that her fingers and toes were wrinkled past the first knuckle, long enough that the soothing oil-scented water had turned cold and slimy. She grimaced at the greasy feel and knew she’d have to take a shower now, or she’d never feel clean. And she was determined to feel clean before going to sleep tonight in her very own bed with its heavenly soft sheets.

She stood carefully, flipping the drain open as she rose. Water began gurgling from the tub, probably causing a racket for her neighbors. What was a little running water between friends, right? Not that her neighbors were friends. She didn’t even know their first names, just the last name on the listing downstairs, and the fact that they complained about how much noise she made.

Maybe she’d remedy that in the weeks to come, though definitely not tonight. She took a quick shower, just enough to rinse away the greasy feel of the cold bath water, and to be grateful for a return to that most basic amenity of modern life—hot water on demand. What a concept.

Stepping out of the shower, she dared to look in the mirror for the first time. She’d lost a few pounds, her face looked drawn, and her skin was…awful. Red, dry, and chapped, it looked like something you’d scrub dirty pans with, and maybe worry about scratching the finish. The one good thing was that her hands matched her face. Delightful.

The next half hour was spent massaging mimseed oil into every inch of her body. It stung her many leftover cuts and scratches, the discomfort short-lived compared to her relief as parched skin drank in the much-needed moisture. Once that was done, her face received separate treatment—an assortment of creams and emollients supposedly tailored to her skin type that her mother had given her as a gift on her last birthday. She’d used them once and put them away. Now she was glad she had them. This was an emergency situation.

Properly oiled and soothed—or at least as proper as she could get in one night—she spent a few minutes blowing her hair dry and felt almost human again. Almost. Nothing that about twenty-four hours of sleep wouldn’t cure anyway.

Wrapping herself in her big, fluffy robe, she opened the bathroom door and stepped out into a room that was fire-warmed and familiar…and occupied by Rhodry de Mendoza.

“I was about to come rescue you,” he said, his perusal taking in the oversized robe with a crooked eyebrow and traveling up to meet her eyes. “Though I know how you hate to be cosseted.”

She took a moment to be grateful she hadn’t used the facial mud mask included in her mother’s gift, then returned the favor, letting her gaze roam over his big body and up to those gorgeous eyes. He looked great. And her traitor heart was doing little handsprings in her chest because he was here.

His nostrils flared, and he grinned. “You smell nice.”

She tried not to, but she laughed. It felt too right to have him here on what should have been the greatest night of her life. She was a fully-fledged and accepted member of the Guild. The goal she’d worked so hard for, for so long, was hers, and she’d refused to think of it all night. She’d even refused her mother’s offer of celebratory champagne, saying she was too tired, and that they’d do something later. And now she knew why.

Because it wouldn’t have felt like a celebration without Rhodry.

“Congratulations, Amanda. Welcome to the Guild.” He held out a knife sheath, beautifully tooled, the brilliant red and gold Guild design worked into the gleaming leather.

She took a step closer, her hand shaking as she reached out to touch the leather sheath, not taking it from him right away, just letting her fingers glide over the dips and curves of the design as it lay in his wide palm. She glanced up at him quickly, as if asking for permission before she picked it up. It weighed almost nothing, yet it was good, solid leather, tightly stitched.

As she examined the gift, his fingers slipped beneath the knot of her robe and tugged her closer. He pushed aside the thick collar and buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair and skin. “I can honestly say,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear, “that you’re the only Guild member I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”

Her laughter was smothered as his mouth came down over hers in a hard kiss full of passion and heat and desire. She didn’t need to think about her response. Her arms went around his neck, and she pressed her body in a tight line with his from chest to groin, wishing the bulky robe wasn’t between them.

He growled against her lips, one hand dropping down to span her lower back and crush her close to him. The other cupped the back of her head, holding her in place as he delved deeper into her mouth, forcing her teeth apart to admit his probing tongue, bruising her lips with his need.

She tasted blood, felt his tongue slide along her lip, soothing and tasting in turn, and then the kiss softened, becoming something more than lust or simple passion. He explored her mouth, outlining her lips gently before dipping between them again to caress her tongue, sinking further with a tenderness that made her want to weep. His lips were so soft, his mouth so sensuous, his body so hard and familiar against hers.

And it was going to hurt so much when he left. She couldn’t pretend anymore that it wouldn’t. Just as she couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t have to leave. His family, his home, were in the mountains. For all she knew, he had a woman there. He was probably pledged to someone already, just waiting until his stint in the city was up before going home to marry and raise a family with strong shifter sons to inherit the de Mendoza mantle.

She sighed into his mouth, letting her forehead rest against his for a moment before saying, “Thank you, Rhodi. It’s beautiful.” She swallowed hard and searched for something else to say, something to save her from the flood of emotion threatening to overwhelm her good sense. “Is Cullen still downstairs?”

He chuckled softly. “I sent the boy back to the palace. He’ll only be in the city a short while. Let him enjoy it.”

“Boy? He’s as old as I am.”

“Aye, and yet he’s the baby of this batch of cousins. A few years younger than the rest of us, and too old to be permitted to bully the next generation down, so he’s stuck being the baby forever.”

She smiled, then frowned. “Speaking of which, I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m perfectly capable—”

“I know that,
acushla
, don’t be angry. And you were wrong before. I
do
trust you, how could I not after you saved my own hide more than once? It’s still difficult for me to put you in danger.”

“I’m not angry,” she admitted grudgingly. “Not anymore. And Cullen was very charming, my mother loved him.”

“Did she?” There was something in his voice when he said those two words. She couldn’t quite figure out what. “I heard they were here, your mother and her admiral.”

Elise would like that description. Randolph Leveque as
her
admiral.

“I guess everything went all right at the palace with Cristobal,” she said. “I mean, at the Guild Hall, you two seemed very chummy.”

“It was complicated,” he admitted. “Harp doesn’t have a death penalty. In the beginning, we needed everyone just to survive. And now, it’s tradition.”

“But they tried to kill you,” she insisted, still angry on his behalf.

“And that’s where the complication comes in. Des didn’t only try to kill
me,
he tried to assassinate his clan leader. That puts him under clan law, and the penalty is clear. He fights me to the death, or accepts permanent banishment to the South. And since he already knows he can’t defeat me in a physical challenge, he chose banishment.”

“What’s to stop him from coming back and trying again?”

“Clan law. If he returns, whether he moves against me or not, he’ll be executed, and his entire family along with him, up to a second degree relationship.”

“Eeesh. That’ll do it.”

Rhodry nodded. “Usually.”

“And the others?”

“Kane Daly’s a shifter, and under Guild law. It’s not all that different from the clans, but without the family death sentence. Same choice, banishment or death challenge. He chose a challenge.”

“Do you have to fight him?” she asked, worried even though she knew he could defeat that pale-haired bastard with one hand, er paw, tied behind his back.

Rhodry was shaking his head. “No, the Ardrigh leads the Guild. Kane made the mistake of thinking Cristobal’s age and position had made him fat and slow. The fight was bloody and short, and Kane is no longer with us.”

“They already fought,” she said, stating the obvious. It was hard to believe it could be over so fast.

“They did. This afternoon, before we came over to the Guild Hall. That’s why we were a little late getting there. That, and the need to stop by the jail to deal with the two civilians. They’ll be staying there for a very long time, by the way.”

“So, it’s all done,” she said, relief warring with sadness. With everything settled, there was no reason for him to stay in the capital.

“Mmm.” Rhodry had pulled her close again. His voice vibrated against her temple, sending ripples of an entirely different sort down to pool warmly between her thighs, while his hands stroked down her naked back beneath the robe, which had somehow come completely untied.

She took a deep breath and asked the question she really didn’t want answered. “Will you be staying in the city? I mean, they did try to kill you, and your cousins are all here now. Will you be going back with them?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just tightened his hold on her, bringing her to her toes against him. “There’s to be a wedding, so I’ll go back with the cousins for a time anyway.”

Wedding?
Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? Was he holding her too tightly? Or maybe it was just the tears swelling her sinuses until she couldn’t draw a breath.

It all made perfect sense. Fionn had a sister. A couple of years older than Amanda, she was blond and lovely, just like Fionn. And how better to heal old wounds than to marry Cristobal Martyn’s daughter to the de Mendoza heir?

Every inch, every bone, every muscle of her body ached at the thought.

“I thought your mother might want to come. I know she’s not much for dirtside living, she might enjoy seeing Clanhome, though.”

She blinked. “My mother?” she said in surprise.

“Unless you think she’d rather not.” He frowned at her response. She could hear it in his voice. But why the hell would he think her mother would want to attend his damn wedding? Surely he didn’t expect
her
to—

“Of course, maybe you’d rather not travel so far. It
is
a fair distance to the mountains and you’ve just—”

“Me?” she choked. “You expect
me
to go to your wedding?”

He took hold of her shoulders and pushed her back so he could see her face. Her tear-streaked, swollen-nosed face.

“Amanda,” he said, understanding softening his voice. “It’s my cousin Gabriel who’s getting married.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. “Which one was he?”

“The one with all the red hair. No one’s quite sure where that came from, by the way.”