Wickedly Wonderful(62)

Marcus tucked the end of the bandage securely into place and reached for the radio to call his da to turn the Serpent around and come get them. But first, he gave in to irresistible impulse and kissed Beka so hard their teeth clashed.

“Just so long as you save a dance for me,” he said. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”


* * *

MARCUS INSISTED ON driving her home, even though she told him—repeatedly—that she was perfectly fine. The extensive first aid kit aboard the Wily Serpent had done a perfectly good job of taking care of the gash, which looked worse than it was, and she’d refused to go to a hospital to have it looked at. As a Baba Yaga, she healed considerably faster than most Humans, and once she was able to put some of Barbara’s supercharged herbal wound cream on it, it would vanish in no time.

Of course, Marcus’s father had griped about their mishap interrupting his fishing, and threatened to bill her for the loss. But since the nets were empty, it looked like the fish had gone elsewhere again anyway. Beka thought guiltily of her argument with Kesh and hoped it wasn’t her fault. Marcus Senior still looked tired and wan, and he was due for another chemo session later that week, so he didn’t give more than a token protest when Marcus suggested that they should take the ship back in to shore.

Back at the bus, Marcus stowed her gear while she went inside, barely limping at all.

“What the hell happened to you?” Chewie barked.

“Nothing. I just got a little nibbled on by a shark,” Beka said, sinking down on the futon and running her hands through his soft fur.

“Nibbled on by a shark doesn’t sound like nothing,” Chewie said. “In fact, it sounds like a lot of something. I don’t like it.”

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t like it much either,” Beka said. “Remind me not to repeat the experience.” She wondered if she should mention the gold chain she thought she saw the shark wearing—but she had to have imagined it in the heat of the moment.

Marcus came up the stairs into the bus, shaking his head. “You know, it sounds for all the world like the two of you are actually having a conversation. Too bad I don’t speak Dog.”

“I was just explaining to Chewie what a hero you are,” she said. “He saved my life,” she told Chewie. “Shot the shark with a spear gun so I could get away.”

“Aw, shucks, ma’am, it weren’t nothin’,” Marcus said with a smile, coming to sit down next to Beka.

Chewie made a gagging noise. “I don’t think I can take any more of this,” he said, giving Beka an affectionate swipe with his tongue before heaving himself up in a mass of dark fur and dust motes. “I’m going to go out and pee on something.” He padded over and opened the door with his teeth, leaving it to Beka to get up and shut it, grateful that Marcus couldn’t actually understand him.

“Talented dog,” Marcus commented.

“You have no idea,” Beka said. She sat back down next to Marcus and gazed into his hazel eyes for a moment without speaking. Every time she looked at them they were different. In the diffuse afternoon light streaming through the bus windows, they seemed almost green, with hints of brown and copper and amber, like a piece of polished agate washed up by the sea.

“Thank you again,” she said quietly. “You know, for saving me. You really are my hero.”

“I’m just glad I got there in time,” Marcus said. In that simple statement lurked the unspoken memory of all the times he hadn’t, the men he hadn’t been able to save. She could see the pain of it in those gorgeous eyes although he never said a word. “I’ve kind of gotten used to having you around.” He reached out and picked up one of her hands, holding on to it lightly.

Beka could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I was under the impression that you thought I was a flaky tree-hugging hippie chick.”

“You mean, like you think I’m a cranky, rigid, stick-up-his-butt former Marine?” He laughed. “It turns out, shockingly enough, that I actually like flaky tree-hugging hippie chicks.”

Beka could feel her heartbeat start to race, fluttering butterflies seeming to chase one another around her belly. “Really?” she said in a teasing tone. “All flaky tree-hugging hippie chicks?”

Marcus paused as if considering. “No. In fact, there is one in particular who has somehow gotten under my skin.” He leaned in closer, as if he was going to kiss her, but then pulled back, leaving her feeling bereft. The laughter slid off his face, replaced by a serious look.

“Can I ask you one question?”