Page 9 of Tusks & Saddles

She snapped her fiery gaze to him, but he merely raised an expectant brow.

The woman, who not just a few minutes ago was snuggled safely in his lecherous hands, steadily detached her claws from the head of her prey and crept off their back.

She tugged her lasso and it fell loose, allowing the thief to scurry out of her trap.

Boone returned his attention to the masked human, and his eyes widened.

Before he could yell, before he could demand, before he could defuse, the human pulled a second pistol out of the back of his pants, aimed, and fired at Will.

It was like breathing, that Boone summoned his armor from the ether.

As the sun rose higher, lighting the world in reds and oranges, Boone lit up like a lantern and his sword appeared in his hand.

He swung. The fury of the Sun Bringer in his veins, he sliced through them like warm butter.

Blood splashed the sand at his feet and he stared at the bottom half of two robbers who didn’t know a thing about self-preservation.

Glinting in the early morning light, his golden armor heavy on his shoulders, Boone took a moment to assess what happened.

And felt the change in the air as something with wings flew at him, talons out.

He twisted, arm out, snagging Willamina by the waist and holding her back before she could dirty her claws on the corpses. “Will!”

“Fuck you! Bastards! Fuck you! ” Willamina thrashed in his arm, blood seeping from the cut along her cheek. It wasn’t deep, but it was dripping down her jaw. Boone tightened his grip on her and hugged her close.

“Will!” he barked.

She trembled in his embrace, still not looking at him.

“Willamina, look at me,” he breathed. Her gaze slowly twisted to him. Boone set her down on her talons, avoiding getting her bat wings to his face. “It’s done.”

Then, with the steadiest hand he could manage, he swiped his thumb across her cheek.

The cut hissed as the seam in her skin was pressed back together.

Like damp clothes under a hot iron, her skin steamed as it stitched itself back together.

While he couldn’t heal all wounds, a bullet graze was definitely in the realm of possibilities for him.

Roger finally came galloping back, Killer huffing up a storm. He looked at the pieces of their thieves, then sighed. “Damn.”

“I warned them.” Boone shook his head, kicking one of the pairs of boots away from him.

“Lost the third one, dunno where he went.”

“He could come back,” Will exhaled, her gaze roaming the camp around them. It was a scattered, torn apart mess. “Shit.”

“Roger, check the cattle, make sure no one’s hurt or hiding,” Boone slipped away from Will, making sure she didn’t immediately fall apart before he sent his armor away. Back in his disheveled sleep clothes, he looked for the best place to start.

“I’ll make coffee” was all Willamina said before she trudged to the knocked over food sack.

Boone stuck to picking up discarded clothes and other things they’d brought with them.

Thankfully, his book wasn’t abused, but he’d lost his bookmark in the shuffle.

The goddess of knowledge would need to forgive him for dog-earing the book later.

It was a good hour later, while coffee brewed and Boone was spreading butter over a slightly burnt piece of bread that he looked over at Willamina… and her gaze was stuck on the bedroll.

He sighed, sliding closer to her so he could whisper.

Not that Roger wasn’t half-way across the sands, drinking his coffee with Killer on a lead beside him, inspecting the cattle again.

But, just in case, he wasn’t looking to catch the stink eye from the minotaur for what he was about to apologize for. “Will, about this morning-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she snapped, her gaze jerking up to meet his .

“Will, I’m sorry.”

“Why?” She scoffed, swirling her coffee.

Boone’s eyebrows shot up on his face. No, that can’t be how she feels about it.

There was no way touch me, and I’ll bite your hand off Willamina Jones was okay with him teasing her nipples as they slept.

She took a quick sip before coughing to clear the gritty liquid from her throat. “You didn’t rob the camp.”

Ah, that’ll do it. “Will, I meant, about what happened in the bedroll.”

“What happened…” Her face fell and Boone sat still, studying every emotion that played over her face. Her eyes darted back to the bedroll then returned to him. Red cheeks blistered like he’d put fresh tomatoes to the fire, her blush was gorgeous. And yet, he dreaded what she said next.

“I didn’t mean to be forward with you like that, but that doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“Just shut the fuck up,” she snapped, twisting to face the fire again. “I don’t want to talk about that either.”

“Will—”

“Boone,” she warned, eyes flashing in his direction. But there was something skittish in her gaze. Like she only lashed out because she was backed into a corner. Boone knew better than to press his luck. So, he did the gracious thing and bowed his head, returning to his spot and his toast.

It was almost an eternity before she spoke again. Her voice was soft, and he’d almost missed it over him taking a bite.

“I thought I was still dreaming.”

Boone kept his gaze level with the sand, speaking through a dry throat. “I did too. ”

When he finally looked up, just to make sure she wasn’t wings out about to jump him like she did that robber earlier, he found her thoughtfully staring at the fire.

Face not twisted up nor was it crestfallen.

It was…confused. Eyebrows knitted down but not sharp, not angry.

Her lips an inch ajar, only enough for a strangled breath to pass through.

Then, like she’d snapped back to reality, she swallowed loudly and poured out the last gulp of tar into the dying campfire. “You know this means we’re not even anymore.”

Boone snorted, nodding but left speechless as his firecracker stood. He couldn’t help it. Not after that. Not with the ghost feeling of her skin in his palm. Not after seeing the mischievous little curl of her lips as she sauntered away. He hungrily watched her backside sway.

Gods forgive me for what I want to do to you, baby. What I wouldn’t give for you to get even with me, Willamina Jones.