Page 33 of Silk & Sand

Seth spent those two hours trying, unsuccessfully, not to think about Raider’s arguments this morning at their water stop, his acceptance of how Seth was. (Or rather how Seth, deep down, wanted to let himself be.)

Not just acceptance. Enjoyment.

Preference.

I assume you’ve been fucking fragile little flowers, but I promise you, that’s not what I am. Anything you can give, I can take—and I want to. And you want it too, so stop being such a damn coward.

Then there had been his erotic demands:

Make it hard, make it hurt, make me come.

Gods, Seth was hard as shit thinking about that. But all of it went directly against what he’d spent a lifetime telling himself. He’d worked so hard to get where he was, to achieve the control he had.

Besides, he had to consider the source. An unprincipled man. A thief. A liar. A rogue and reprobate. A man with (illegal) quicksilver in his body.

Seth’s attraction to Raider didn’t change those facts.

And it didn’t change the fact that Raider was a necessary but unreliable part of his mission. (The man’s actions today certainly proved that.) Seth needed to stay focused so he could manage that mission and all its elements—including Raider.

As the afternoon heat intensified, Seth found the meadow situated between two rocky hills. The presence of grass suggested water, but Seth saw none above ground. That was all right. If they ran out, the compact alembic could filter urine or extract moisture from plants. It could even, with a bit of humidity, draw it from the air.

After pulling Raider down from his horse, Seth unsaddled and hobbled both mounts. Next, he set up the tent, wanting to get Raider out of the afternoon sun and beneath the silvery arcane fabric.

As Seth dragged Raider into the tent, the movement roused him into a bout of distressed mumbling. He’d mumbled like that off and on for the last hour of the ride.

Seth had tugged him upright once when he’d slumped over his horse’s neck, making a bad sound, but Raider had flinched away so hard that he’d almost toppled from the saddle. Seth had left him alone after that.

Seth got the tent rolled up on one side to let in some air, but he needed Raider out of that kaftan so he could cool down. Holding Raider in a sitting position, Seth undid the cloth toggles.

As he slid the garment off Raider’s shoulders and pulled his arms free, Raider’s mumbling clarified into a distinct, “No.”

Frowning, Seth laid Raider down on his bedroll—and stared. The cut to Raider’s left forearm was gone and the wound in his shoulder was much improved. What in the name of Kasha, goddess of mysteries, was going on with this man?

Seth thought back. Raider had had this same shoulder wound two days ago, after he’d used his quicksilver in their fight. But it had been gone yesterday. Seth should have noticed. Raider always distracted him, but he should have noticed that.

Was there some kind of healing property in the quicksilver? Surely that would be known by the Arcanum, subject to study. Maybe it was known, just not to Seth?

The scrape was also gone from Raider’s side, and the bruising had yellowed. If Seth had sustained those injuries, he’d be nursing them for a week or more.

Though half healed, the shoulder wound was speckled with grit, so Seth dug into his medical kit for disinfectant. As he set to work scrubbing, Raider tried to pull away.

When Seth automatically pinned him down, Raider gasped, “Please. Don’t.”

Seth took his hand away. Was this nightmarish delirium an effect of the quiva? Or was it driven by something deeper, something … darker?

Seth shouldn’t care. Shit with Raider was supposed to remain strictly business. Besides, a man with quicksilver in his body likely had some disturbing reasons for it—and maybe deserved his nightmares.

But none of that reasoning stopped Seth from reaching out to smooth away the worry line that had formed between Raider’s eyebrows.

None of that reasoning stopped him from murmuring softly, “It’s okay. Hush now. Everything’s okay.”

And only when Raider had eased into peaceful sleep did Seth leave the tent. Only then did he start putting his logic back in place—and reminding himself of all the facts that Raider kept tempting him to forget.

CHAPTER 11

RAIDER OPENED HIS EYES to the cool dimness of a desert evening. Dusky light spilled over him from the left, but above the sky was dark. Not dark, exactly. Obscured by cloth.

He was in a tent. Seth’s tent.