Dom looked more surprised then mad, which made Cam even angrier. I could tell Cam wanted to speak, but with great effort, held his tongue. “Leave us, Cam. I’ll speak with her.”
Cam bowed his head briefly, then strode past Dom. The two huge men barely fit by each other in the narrow hallway. I wasn’t sorry to see Cam go, though being alone with Dom was not a good idea for me.
He studied me for a moment. I made a point of not meeting his eyes. “It’s never a healthy idea to go around hitting druids, Jillian. Anything in particular that set you off? A jealous fit, perhaps?”
The bastard actually sounded a little smug. “For her, maybe. She called me a whore, and I decked her. She threatened to kill me if I ever touched you again. Same old shit as always. You need to keep that bitch on a leash.”
He sighed. “You two never should have been in the same room together. It won’t happen again. It’s a pity, really. Siobhan is one of our strongest fighters. She would have been useful tonight.”
He studied me silently for the longest time. I could hear my own pulse as I waited for him to say or do something, but I at least had the self-control not to look at him.
It all felt so surreal, going from years of separation and back to being allies, fighting together almost like old times.
“What kind of weapons are you carrying?” he asked. “Where is your axe? You can’t be thinking of fighting without it. This is not going to be a small raid, Jillian. We are going against a very large horde of the necros. You don’t even have a long sword?”
I smiled wryly, watching my feet. It had been years, but still, he should have known better. “My axe is back in the room with Caleb. He’s making some adjustments to my harness. It was a little tight, with my gun harness. And I didn’t trust myself to be in a small space with Cam, holding my favorite weapon bare in my hands.”
He made a deep sound in the back of his throat. It made things low in my stomach clench.
“Show me what else you’re carrying.”
I complied, showing him my guns first. I wore a shoulder holster that carried matching pistols. They were modified by Caleb, as almost all of my goodies were. Specialized weapons were the biggest perk of staying close friends with a sociopath chameleon alien. Ok, I didn’t actually think he was an alien, but I wouldn’t have been all that shocked if I ever found out that he was. He was just so profoundly off from everyone else that tried to pass for human.
The pistols were clearly visible, mounted just below my armor covered br**sts, but Dom checked them anyways. He even removed them from the holsters to check the rounds.
“Explosive rounds,” I told him. “They only carry ten. I have more of the good rounds packed, and some normal clips.
He re-holstered them. I watched his hands as he did it. I had thought that it was his eyes that seemed to be-spell me, but the sight of his hands had a very similar effect. I shook myself, looking resolutely at my feet.
“They’re placed a little low. Let me see you draw.”
I had already checked this myself, but I humored him. He was the man in charge, and I didn’t want to argue with him. If we started fighting, gods only knew what would happen. I just couldn’t trust myself with him.
I drew the guns swiftly and smoothly, their mounted position just below my br**sts perfect. I aimed them at the ground. “See? Good to go.” I re-holstered them just as smoothly.
He made a low sound of approval in his throat. I could see my chest rising and falling with my harsh breaths. Hadn’t we f**ked just that morning? How had that not assuaged even an ounce of the wanting?
“Show me the rest.”
I showed him my pockets of extra ammo. “I’m carrying a duffle with additional ammo. I figure we’ll move forward in waves. I’ll just drag it along when I’m not actively fighting.”
I showed him my knives next. I had only the two guns on me, the larger ones would go in the duffle, but I had a shit-ton of knives. I showed him the longest one. It was mounted on my thigh, and ran nearly the entire length of it. That made it closer to a short sword than a knife, since I had a very long thigh. It had been a bitch to find pants with a thirty-six inch inseam before online shopping came along.
Torturously, he knelt down and examined the sheath, running his fingers over the buckled straps. I crossed my arms, suddenly baffled about what to do with my hands. I knew what I wanted to do, but that was not what I would do.
“I have an ankle sheath as well, with a bowie knife with a serrated edge.” He checked that as well.
I showed him all of the smaller knives I had along my arms and torso, detailing all the additional equipment that I had packed. He studied it all personally, even checking my vest with his hands. I should have told him that any gear that had already passed Caleb’s inspection was above reproach, but I remained silent. I stood perfectly still for his appraisal. I was determined to get through this encounter without laying a finger on him.
Finally he stepped back. I breathed a sigh of relief. See, I could be in the same room with him without jumping him. It was a close thing, though.
He smiled briefly. It was a sad smile. I wondered if his smiles ever looked happy anymore. All of the brief glimpses I’d seen of them had been bittersweet at best. “I like your hair.” His expression quickly went serious again. “Be careful out there,” he told me softly, before walking away.
“You too,” I told his back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Battle Charge