Hell of a Time

by

TheBooknerd

This is chapter 18 of Hunt the Moon from Pritkin's point-of-view, my favorite scene in the book. If you haven't read it yet, you may be a little lost with this. Some text and all of the dialog are directly from the book. I, of course, own nothing. Karen Chance gets all credit for this delightful moment; I just messed with it some. Enjoy.


"Breathe," I told her. Her eyes were still looking a little glassy, and I didn't want her fainting when I was in no shape to catch her.

"It's merely a theory," Jonas said, filling the kettle and taking out mugs.

"Even if we accept the identification of Thor with Apollo," I continued, "which many scholars do not—"

"They don't, you know. Really they don't," Jonas added, trying to be reassuring.

"—there remains the fact that the creature in question is dead." Because you killed him, I wanted to say, but she never seemed comfortable with that victory. "Whatever his name, he is no longer an issue."

"That's very true."

But Cassie didn't appear all too comforted by our efforts. "Then why did you bring it up?" she demanded.

"Why, because of the others, of course."

Wait. What?

I looked at Cassie and knew she was ready to freak out over that idea. I wasn't too far behind. Jonas, oblivious to the sense of horror he was instilling, rooted through the kitchen cabinets. Cassie was distracted by watching him, so I took the opportunity to check my shirt above the injury on my stomach. The bleeding had slowed by the time I came back through the portal, and I was able to keep it try during my shower, but I feared I had reopened part of the wound when getting dressed. Pulling a shirt over your head when you had a giant hole in your stomach wasn't a great idea. Fortunately there was no blood on the shirt, and the bandage wasn't discernible beneath the fabric.

"You haven't any tea?" Jonas asked.

"No," Cassie said. I was inexplicably disappointed by that. Had she gotten rid of it all? She liked tea, so I would have thought . . .

Fuck. The numbing charm I'd activated earlier chose that moment to wear off. A throbbing ache settled into my side and jockeyed up my spine.

"None whatsoever?"

"In there," I said, carefully moving only my head when I gestured towards one of the lower cabinets where I had left my offerings. Jonas said something in response, but a fresh spike of pain hit. I clenched my teeth to hold back any sound and focused on breathing steadily, only half-listening to the conversation. I could feel the bleeding kick up again. I was going to have to change the bandage, and soon. That wasn't a good sign considering I'd slapped this one on no more than an hour ago.

The pain eased off, leaving me dizzy. Or perhaps it was remnants of the Fey poison. Without thinking, I braced myself with a hand on Cassie's shoulder. Thankfully, she was distracted by her irritation at Jonas and didn't seem to notice, but I let go before she registered how much weight I was putting on her. "What other two gods?" I asked, desperate to get to the important parts so I could get out of there.

"Oh, didn't I say? Ah, well that's where it really becomes interesting. According to the sagas, Ragnarok involves the deaths of three main gods: Thor, Tyr and Odin. The legends state that the war will end only when all three are dead, and that the three children of Loki are the ones fated to kill them."

"Meaning?" In short sentences, preferably.

"Well, that's just it." She must have kept the tea, after all, because Jonas started filling up the kettle. "I'm not sure. But I did locate some clues that might be useful. The first child of Loki was Jörmungandr, which we now know stood for the ouroboros spell. The snake was opposed by Thor, or Apollo if you prefer. He defeated the spell, but died soon afterward. This, of course, has already happened."

"Of course." Bugger all, Cassie was getting the glassy-eyed look again.

"Now, the second child of Loki was Hel." Jonas reached across the counter to draw a crescent moon—actually, it looked more like a banana—on the chalkboard he had brought in from the living room. "She was thrown into the underworld by Odin and became the goddess of death."

"Hell? You mean, like the place?"

"Yes, in a sense. Our modern word derives from her name. She was said to have power over the nine hell regions—"

"Nine?"

"Yes, the same number that Dante would later record in his Inferno. Fascinating how the myths intersect on so many—"

"Jonas," I cut in before he could expand on a subject that was a little too touchy for me.

"Yes, well. In any case, she was said to have control over the hells, as well as the pathways between worlds. Quite a powerful figure."

"Like the Greek goddess Persephone," I added, to show that I was paying attention when really my mind was on the burning ache radiating through me.

Jonas wrinkled his nose. "No, not exactly. Persephone was queen of the underworld, yes, but only . . ."

I lost complete track of the conversation as another pain wave shot through my body. Sweat beaded up on the back of my neck and dripped down into the collar of my shirt. I looked down and realized my hands were trembling. It wasn't the pain, really. I've handled my fair share, and much worse than this. But the effort of keeping Cassie from noticing was exhausting what energy I had to spare. I couldn't take any more; I had to get out of there quickly. Cassie and Jonas were caught up in some discussion about tarot, so it was a good time to leave. I started to excuse myself but suddenly had to focus on holding back a grimace, especially since Cassie chose that moment to look my way. Jonas started talking, then, which got her nicely distracted again.

"I'll be right back," I said casually. I made a direct line for the front door, moving as quickly as I dared. Not quick enough, though. Cassie had followed me out and seemed to have every intention of joining me. "I'm just going back to my room for a moment," I told her, trying to shake her from my tail. But I turned back around too suddenly. Stabs of pain made spots flash across my vision, and I tripped on the stairs to the foyer. I managed to catch myself before falling completely, but I knew the gig was up, as they say. Blood was clearly seeping through my shirt in a widening, unmistakable stain. Perhaps, though, I could still get out before she saw.

Then again, Perhaps not. Cassie had a firm hold of my arm, looking as furious as I'd ever seen her.

"Damn it, Pritkin!"

"I'm fine," I told her, but she always did need to see things for herself. She crouched down and tugged at my shirt, exposing the large, blood-soaked bandage across my stomach.

"Fine?" she all but hissed.

"Well enough," I said, trying to push the shirt back down, but she slapped at my hands and began fussing with the bandage. Enough was enough, I decided when I felt her pry up a corner of the bandage. I reached down and caught her hand in a grip intended to convey my resolve. "I'm fine," I repeated. "It will be healed by tonight," Okay, maybe not entirely true. "By the morning at the latest—"

"And what kind of wound takes you that long to heal?"

Damn. I had hoped she wouldn't catch on to that. "A Fey one," I finally admitted.

She said a word that had my eyes widening and started working at the bandage with her free hand. I snagged that one, too, and tugged her to her feet. Unfortunately, I didn't think about how close that would bring her. We were standing inches apart, so close that I could feel her breath on my neck as she glared up at me.

"You said you were going to see friends!"

"Acquaintances," I qualified.

"Do your acquaintances usually want to kill you?"

"It's not completely unknown," I said, trying to inject a bit of humor. And because it was rather true. But one look at her face told me she wasn't interested in laughter.

"Let me go," she said dangerously. Bloody hell, but she was gorgeous when she wanted to kill someone. Especially when that someone happened to be me.

"So you can slap me?"

"So I can get you a new bandage!" she shouted.

I let her go and she stormed away. I definitely didn't notice how enticingly her ass twitched when she was angry. Resigned to my fate, I started to sit down, but the new sofa was one of those low, pillowy jobs that promised to be hell to get up from when your abs muscles had been skewered by a four-inch spearhead. Instead I made for the lounge where there were some straight-back chairs around the card table. I had to stop in the doorway and double-check that I had the right room. For some reason the lounge had been decked out with an abundance of plants and flowers. The cloud of perfume and pollen almost made me turn around, but I was appalling tired as it was. I sat down and tried to relax. Part of relaxing was ignoring the mage standing next to an elaborate hydrangea arrangement, piling chocolates into his mouth. He was vaguely familiar in the way he twitched at my presence, but at the moment I just didn't care who he was or why he was there. Cassie's vampire watchdog wouldn't have left him unsupervised if he were a threat. I may have hated the pillock, but he at least took his duty to heart.

Cassie marched in clutching enough medical supplies to doctor a plane crash. She looked over at the mage and scowled. Poor bastard.

"Why are you still here?" she demanded. I must say, she was a little terrifying right then

The mage flinched. "I—No one told me to leave."

"Leave." Bandages, bottles, and economy-sized wads of gauze slammed onto the card table. The mage ran off. I envied him the escape as a livid pair of blue eyes were boring into my skull like precision lasers.

"You swore you'd be all right!"

"And as you can see—"

"You lied!"

"I didn't lie," I said, using my most reasonable voice. "I merely didn't anticipate walking into a—What are you doing?"

She had knelt on the floor and was maneuvering her body between my legs. I had a moment to appreciate how little and delicate she actually was. Blasted woman refused to eat enough to fatten a cricket. Then my customary reaction to her nearness caused my brain to short-circuit.

"I'm going to rebandage you. If you're smart, you'll sit there and let me."

"I can do that my—" my words cut off when I felt her fingernails dig into my thighs. Bugger me if that didn't just turn me on more.

"Open your legs and hold your shirt up."

She pulled off the bandage. I could tell when she got a good look at what was underneath because she sucked in a breath, eyes wide. I had a pretty good idea of what she saw. Admittedly, it wasn't my best field dressing. Hard to sew straight when your hands are shaking from poisoning and blood loss. I wanted to say something, some kind of inane lie about how it wasn't as bad as it looked, mostly to get that look off her face. But the glare she sent up at me was suspiciously wet.

"Don't."

I didn't. I couldn't. Not with that expression on her face. Part worry, part anger. And something that I'd never before seen in her eyes. At least, not when she was looking at me.

"I suppose you had to sew yourself up." She got up and vanished into the kitchen.

"It seemed . . . advisable."

She returned with a bowl of water and some soap. She wiggled back into place between my legs and starting yanking at the waistband of my jeans, then went about cleaning the wound. I tried to ignore her proximity, but the heat of her body along the insides of my thighs was making my skin buzz. And the gentle way she tended to my injury seared soul. My mind raced with half-coherent thoughts, all of them centered on her.

"What happened?" she finally asked.

I had to clear my throat before I could talk. "I was ambushed."

"Why didn't you go back through the portal?"

"I would have, had I been near it at the time. But I'd already made my way to the village where one of my contacts lives—or should I say, where he used to live."

Something drew her attention to my navel, which caused her to lean in closer. Twice the curve of her breast grazed the fly of my jeans, the sensation vibrating throughout my entire body. And, buggering fuck, she was saying something, but I could barely hear through the roaring in my ears.

"—dead?"

"What?"

"Your friend. Associate. Whatever."

"Er . . ." What had she asked? "No. At least . . . I'm not sure."

I tried to scoot back in the chair, create a little more distance between her breasts and my crotch. Her grip tightened on my thigh. "Don't." The forceful gesture and commanding tone made my dick twitch. I froze, every muscle in my body locked up, and prayed she hadn't noticed. I contemplated begging when she starting tugging at my pants again. I was a bit surprised she wasn't demanding I take them off. Although, if she pulled the edge down another half inch, it wouldn't make a difference. And that would be a disaster of extreme proportions. As weakened as I was, my demon nature was aching for a feed. Other, more human, parts of me ached, as well. That half inch of denim stood between me and tragedy. So I sat in silence, trying to not flinch. Trying to not drain her dry. Trying to not poke her in the eye with a sudden erection.

It was, in short, torture.

And it was a hell of a time to realize I was in love.

"Are you supposed to be this hot?" Her brows furrowed, concern etched into every inch of her face. I wanted to believe the promises inherent in such a look. A declaration that she cared, that it matter very much to her whether I was safe or well. But Cassandra Palmer cared about everyone. Indeed, she looked after near strangers far better than she looked after herself. It simply wasn't in her to shrug off a friend's pain.

When I didn't answer, she looked up from her task. I lost myself in her eyes while that word circled about my mind. Friend. Indeed, that was what I was to her. A sorely needed one, at that. Her short life had been plagued by people and creatures who wanted things from her, demanded, took. Not a one seemed to give her anything without requiring payment of some kind. And yet she didn't turn her back on those she cared about. None of us deserved her loyalty, but she deserved everything.

What felt like ages ago, I had sworn an oath to take care of her. At the time, I meant her safety and physical well-being. I renewed that vow, silently promising her that I would take the shadows out of her eyes. Whatever she needed of me, I would gladly give. I would be her companion, her partner, her protector...

But never her lover. Even if I were able, someone else was already filling that role. Best to not forget that. Never be yours, old man.

I had to look away before she saw too much. I refused to let my feelings become another burden for her to shoulder.

"Yes. When I'm healing."

She gave me a doubtful look but went back to cleaning the wound. "What did you mean, you're not sure? About your friend?"

I latched onto the topic like a man reprieved from drowning, taking all of my tumultuous emotions and stuffing them back into the furthest recesses of my mind. Unfortunately, that left me without proper distraction from what Cassie was unwittingly doing to my body. I told her about my findings in Faerie, tried to tune out her touch by giving an exacting accounting of my experience.

I wasn't succeeding. Each slow and gentle stroke added another degree of frustration to my agony. I had to wonder if she preferred those kinds of touches—soft and deliberate. The kind that lasts for hours . . .

I broke off my narration when a wet, tickling sensation slid down the front of my jeans. Almost like she was running her—

"Sorry," she muttered, coming closer to wipe the rag along my lower abdomen. Her breath was cool on my damp skin. I caught myself staring at her mouth and had to close my eyes. I began to count backwards from a hundred. In Hebrew.

"The Fey are excellent hunters and trackers," I managed to say. "They are usually very difficult to follow."

"But not this time."

"No. I found a number of personal items that had been discarded along the way, haphazardly, as if they had fallen out of . . . " I felt another twitch down south, knew I was losing the battle against my body. " . . . of peoples' arms while they ran. It had rained and the forest had a number of muddy areas, and the footprints I saw were running, too. Clearly, the villagers were fleeing some—" Okay, there was no way she didn't notice that time. I was starting to feel a little hysterical. "Are you almost done?"

"Almost. So you followed them?"

"Yes. And that was when I was ambushed. I foolishly hadn't considered that they might leave some of their number behind, to slow down whoever was pursuing them. That is, I hadn't considered it until—" Bloody fuck, if she rubbed her breast against my knee one more time, I was done for.

"I'm being as careful as I can," she said, patting away with that damnable rag.

"Just hurry it up, will you?"

"I wouldn't have to do this if you'd done a better job yourself," she pointed out self-righteously. "Having sped-up healing won't do you any good if you get an infection."

"I'm not worried about a damn infection!" I'm worried about coming in my jeans with you sitting front row, center.

"Well, you won't have to be now." She applied a new bandage, looking far too pleased with herself. I watched her work, expecting her to be done any second. Instead, she brought out of roll of tape and started plastering the bandage to my skin. My brain must have been good and fried because I had trouble processing what I was seeing. I'd never known her to move so quickly; within seconds, she had my entire stomach covered in white strips.

"That's adhesive tape," I finally said.

"Mm-hm."

"That's . . . rather a lot, wouldn't you say?"

"Never hurts to be sure."

"But it's going to hurt like the devil when I have to take it off."

"Is it?" she asked, eyes as innocent as an angel even as she slapped another five-inch piece of tape on.

I had survived the sexual torture and the personal turmoil, but evidently I wasn't in the clear just yet. I was contemplating what other forms of punishment she would hit me with, when Jonas poked his head in.

"Are you two done, then?"

"Yes. Pritkin is about to tell us what happens when you follow a bunch of panicked Fey into an unknown forest all by yourself."

"Oh yes?"

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back.

Hell, I really did love this woman.