“You mean you can change the way you see things? I mean, it’s not all jumbled up together for you to sort out?”
She snickered. “No, silly. That would be like you trying to run, walk, and jump all at the same time. No, I can change the way I see things, but don’t ask me how. It’s something I learned to do when I was young.”
“How many different types of sight to do you have?”
“Four, that I know of. There could be others that I haven’t figured out yet.”
“What are the four? You said there’s ‘see in the dark’, which I’m guessing is why your eyes were reflecting the light, and ‘hot and cold’, which is how you’re able to tell a person’s body temperature and all.”
“I also have ‘black and white’, where I remove all color from what I’m looking at, and there’s the normal way. The way everyone else sees things.”
“Do you ever use ‘black and white’?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s very useful when I’m hunting. I seem to notice shape and movement a whole lot better because I don’t get distracted by color.”
“What about distance or close up?”
“I don’t think I have any advantage there.”
“Mattox does. My brother. He can see a flea scratch itself from a hundred feet away. It’s incredible.”
“Can his eyes see anything else?”
“If he can, he hasn’t told us.” Lucien chuckled. “That’s fascinating how you’re able to do that. Makes me jealous.”
“Jealous? Why?”
“Because you can do all those things. You have that advantage over people like me.”
“But you’re half Mutah, too.”
“But I don’t have a mark, and I don’t have any kind of special ability…that I’ve discovered.” His comment left her to believe he still held out some hope he’d discover one someday. She started to comment that maybe he’d eventually find out, when her body shivered violently. Immediately, he threw an arm over her waist and pulled her closer, as if to share his body heat. “You okay? Are you cold?”
Johna continued to stare up at him. They were almost nose-to-nose, their lips inches apart. She could smell the jerky he’d eaten on his breath. This time she didn’t stop herself from reaching up and allowing her fingertips to caress the stubble on his cheek. A cough rumbled in her chest, which she managed to stifle, but Lucien heard it.
“It’s getting worse.”
“Yeah.” Taking a raspy breath, she licked her lips. “Lucien? May I ask you for a favor?”
“Favor granted in exchange for granting mine,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers.
“What’s yours?” She didn’t dare breathe. She prayed his request was what she was anticipating.
“This,” he whispered, and closed the distance between them to kiss her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chance
He’d been wanting to kiss ever since he saw her standing there in the aftermath of their battle against the Bloods at Whiterock. Her face and clothes had been splattered with black ichor, her spear dripping with the potentially toxic fluid. And all he could think about was getting to his feet, walking up to her, pulling her into his arms, and kissing her.
Here, deep in the night, in the semi-privacy of their tent, he finally allowed himself to act on that need. And from her response, she may have been wanting to do the same.
Despite his hunger, he dug his nails into the palms of his hands and forced himself to take it slow, take it gently. He didn’t want to drive her away by making her feel as if he was demanding her to submit. He didn’t want an obligated surrender. He wanted a mutual surrender. For her to want him as much as he wanted her.
The more he kissed her, the more he wanted of them. Warm and pliant, they tasted slightly sweet. Although her soft lips didn’t surprise him, her reaction did. He never expected her to circle his neck with her arms and scoot closer. Or to press her body tightly against him, as if in silent invitation.
The kiss evolved into two, then three. Then into several gentle, smaller kisses that finally fell to the corners of their mouths and cheeks. Sighing, he nuzzled her temple.
“Lucien?” His name was more breath than sound.
“Yes?”
“Make love to me.”
Lifting his head, he stared down at her. “Johna…”
“Shhh.” She placed two fingers to his mouth. “Hear me out. I’m sick and getting sicker, and I don’t know if I’ll survive it. We both know that, just like we don’t know if you will eventually come down with this virus.”
“You’ll survive it, Johna.”
“Don’t say that,” she said almost demandingly. “You can’t be any more sure than the doctor. You know the odds. You know the chances of survival. And even if I do pull through it, I could end up Damaged.”
“Johna,” he tried again, but she kissed him, and the words he planned to say evaporated from his mind.
She tugged on his outer shirt and rolled onto her back, silently urging him to roll on top of her. Unable to resist, he planted himself between her spread legs, with the bedroll and their clothing keeping them separated. Propping himself on his elbows, he gazed down at her and noticed the tiny beads of sweat gathering on her forehead and upper lip.
“I’ve always wanted someone to love me,” she murmured. “I’ve always wanted someone I could love in return. I’m not saying I love you, Lucien, but I could. I could easily fall in love with you, and do you know why?”
“Tell me.”
“Because when you look at me, you don’t see my difference. You see me.” She ran her fingers across the back of his neck. Her touch was cold, and sent icy shivers over his skin. “I’m scared. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to lose you, either. These past couple of days, I thought there might be a chance for us, but now that chance is being taken away.” She shook her head, and he saw tears glittering in her eyes. “That’s why I want you to make love to me. Give me something to remember, something I can cling to. Give me a little happiness so that, if I die, I can take it with me. Or if I don’t die, but my mind is gone, maybe some special part of this might remain untouched so I can relive it.”
A noise outside the tent caught his attention, and he glanced over where faint shadows passed in front of the fire. From the sound of it, he guessed it was shift change for the sentries.
Johna laid a hand to his cheek. “Lucien?”
He couldn’t dismiss her plea because it was too much like his own. If they were to share any sort of togetherness, this may be their only opportunity. By noon tomorrow either of them, or both of them, would be deep in the feverish throes of the virus. And with it they would lose any chance for any sort of happiness.