Her demeanor was off, as was the expression on her face, but that could hardly be a surprise. He could only imagine how frightening the last few minutes had been for her, and having lived a life of sporadic danger and adrenalin rushes and more than a few near misses himself, Cuga knew how the body and mind could put off reacting until a safer place was found. Then, both could let go and the resultant states varied greatly from person to person. He was concerned about Kavala, very much so. But all he could do for now was to stay with her, which he had hoped to do this day anyway, and keep an eye on her – a careful eye. She was a healer – but Cuga had found that sometimes those types were the worst when it came to taking care of themselves. He could easily see the strong willed Konti discounting and minimizing her own injuries, especially if some perceived emergency or a patient in need cropped up. She might even choose not to tell her staff about the fall, from a sense of pride and a need to keep them from worrying about her welfare. Cugacon thought about this as Kavala stammered her assent to his suggestion, and turned and walked the short distance to the bathhouse. He followed, almost at her elbow, just in case those shaky knees gave way. He decided that he wouldn’t circumvent her decisions in regards to how she handled this situation. But if he thought she was doing anything that was risky, he wouldn’t hesitate to point that out and try to convince her to do otherwise. This was her domain, not his – and he understood the needs leaders had to maintain their roles. But he wouldn’t stand by silently and let her make stupid decisions without some sort of discussion.
Her gait was steady enough, though, as they walked together, and it didn’t appear as if she had sustained any significant injury to her feet or legs. The strains from the jarring impact would surely come though, but not for a while yet. When they reached the spacious room and stepped inside, Cuga was glad to see the steam gently wafting from the tub – glad to know it was full and the water far warmer than the chilly air outside. She was already by the tub, obviously willing to immerse herself in its warmth, and he was prepared to turn and give her the privacy to undress – though he had no intention whatsoever of leaving her. It wouldn’t make much sense to have saved her from a crushing fall only to let her black out in the tub and slip under the water and drown.
Her invitation to join her, though, caught him completely by surprise – in particular the slightly sarcastic quip tacked onto the end of it. Their parting two days ago had been neutral, on the outside, but her bitterness over her situation in general – and himself as the focal point for it – was still very apparent, to him. Without questioning this small concession on her part – attributing it to the shock of what had just happened to her – he warily remained where he was, unmoving, willing to take her up on her offer but waiting to decide how he wished to proceed.
Kavala apparently had no reservations about her own intentions. Immediately and with no coyness – and certainly with no sense of the erotic – she began to methodically undress. Whether she meant to be matter-of-fact about the whole thing or not, any chance that Cuga could watch her and maintain that sense of detachment himself was completely impossible. His race and their situation was such a strange one, such a sad one. Thousands of males and no females. Boys and men living together in a city where females of any race were few and far between. How many Akalaks knew their own mother? How many had a sister or any female relative? How many boys had any chance for socializing with females of their own age? How many men had any chance to be in the company of a female other than those few available for breeding contracts? And yet, all the biology was there – all the anatomical features. The hormones. The drive and desire – with virtually no outlet. It was a given – some turned to other males for some sort of release. Others, such as Cuga, had little interest in such and had to content themselves with . . . themselves. Ridiculous – but true.
Cuga’s life had taken a wild swing for the better, in this regard, with the arrival of Itsa into his home, and his bed. Despite his own overriding need to always be in control of himself, he had quickly found that his need for Itsa quickly obliterated that one. He hadn’t been savage, or greedy, but he had been passionate – his natural intensity finding an altered form in the way he approached his little Kelvic mate. That aspect of their time together, short though it was, had altered him in a way both profound and forever. Though it hadn’t been the worst part of losing Itsa, he would have been lying to himself if he had claimed that losing that part of what she could give him didn’t matter. It did. Having learned what it was like, having lost it, having come back to Riverfall to find that Elantok had arranged this contract for him, to Kavala – Cuga had not been able to not wonder what it would be like, if it came to that, with her. It wasn’t something he would take, or claim, but if she was to give it freely, willingly . . .
As each article of clothing fell with a wet plop onto the bath house floor, he could not help but look at her – and not with cool indifference. Each part of her revealed caused his abdominal muscles to tighten involuntarily. He forced himself to remain where he was and tried to regulate his breathing so it would not seem so rapid. There was nothing he could do to lessen the beat of his heart as it begin to quicken, but he did not take his eyes off her. Drinking in every inch as she unhurriedly peeled away the clothes, his cold skin suddenly felt very much as if a match had been set to it. In some inner recess, in some deep, dark cavern of his being, another voice chuckled softly, but went unheeded.
Her next words – again so carefully neutral, so offhand – pricked at his brain, and his pride. She was willing to give him that which he was owed, but only because she had no choice. Despite the desire that now saturated every cell, every pore, every muscle – despite that almost inaudible and unacknowledged inner laugh – his reason drew him back and his own incredibly strong will reined in his rampant lust. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nostrils as she submerged herself, her hair floating about her, hiding her beautifully curved shoulders and breasts. He had seen her - all of her – and she had the build of an athlete, but the body of a woman, still. He wanted her, but he was not going to take what she would not give, except grudgingly. Despite what he desired with every fiber of his body, he would remain standing, and only to keep an eye on her and make sure she was alright.
She had resurfaced, and moved about, obviously making room for him. Her next words, once again, left him feeling off balance. Her tone had softened, and she seemed more genuinely . . . inviting – as if she too would welcome the chance to share this moment of warmth. Cuga frowned, almost imperceptibly. He was finding Kavala to be more than a bit confounding. With his limited experience of females, he had no idea how contradictory they could seem, and no baseline against which to measure Kavala’s behavior. His own inner conflict was bad enough – now her confusing shift in mood was compounding it.
He made a fatal error, then. Trying to gage her motivation, he looked at her and his eyes wandered from her large eyes, deep blue with the intensity of what had almost just happened to her, to her delicate, pale skin, trailing down the column of her neck. The water and the cloud of hair was not enough to cover all that lay under the surface, and the curves of her body led his eyes onward and downward, to long, sculpted legs and delicate feet. Only an insane Akalak would not leap at the opportunity to get closer to that. He might be stubborn, a bit idealistic and a bit proud – but Cugacon was not insane.
Without haste, as purposefully as she, he began to remove his clothes. Sealskin jacket, wool shirt, linen undershirt, leather belt and breeches, boots. All were laid neatly aside, piece by piece, until finally he straightened. It couldn’t be helped – the physical reaction to his desire was apparent from even a cursory glance at that part of his body. But he wasn’t embarrassed. She had a son. She was no blushing virgin. Kavala might be trying to keep this all very neutral, but she must realize that would be much more difficult for him. With a casual grace belying his size, he slid into the tub, though he did not immediately sit beside her.
Instead, he knelt before her, his fingers going to rest lightly on the tracings of tiny scars criss-crossing over her upper chest. He had noticed them as she had undressed – how could he not? They were all over her. And he could guess where they had come from – and that they had their own part to play in how she viewed him, and perhaps all males. As his fingertips brushed over the delicate ridges, he felt an odd sensation. Somewhere inside, something leapt – like a fish rising in the dusk. It was deeply unsettling – and exceedingly erotic, though he would never have been able to admit that.
Almost reluctantly, he pulled his fingers away, trying to get a grip on himself. He took another steadying breath. His eyes dropped, and he slipped further into the water, sitting beside her. Unsure how she would react, but being spurred on by the churning feelings inside of him, he reached to put his arm about her shoulder, pulling her to him. “Your past is a painful one, Kavala.” He said, his voice still deceptively even and calm. “But I would make a future with you, if you wish it. One without pain.” He leaned his head closer to her, his forehead almost against her wet hair. “First, though, you must stop falling off roofs – or you may have no future, period.”
