Ivar's Escape (Assassins of Gravas #2) - N.J. Walters Page 0,18

in prison, he’d exuded a life-force, an energy that was undeniably masculine.

“Right.” He took one step, then another. She held her breath, praying he wouldn’t fall. She wanted to help but wasn’t sure he’d take it. And she wasn’t sure how to offer. It wasn’t something she’d ever done beyond her siblings. And they rarely wanted or needed help. They’d all been trained to be independent.

Her leg muscles tensed as he lowered himself. Her arm muscles did the same as he finally leaned back and sighed.

“Thank you.” The relief in his voice touched her like a caress.

“You’re welcome.” Shoving away all emotion, she briskly strode to the edge of the water and set down the medipack. “After you’re clean, there’s salve to put on your bruises. It will ease the pain and speed healing. Not sure how much effect it’ll have on the cracked rib.”

“The heat from the water will help. Outside a medibay, I’d say the only thing that will help is time.”

She sat on the ground, her cloak still wrapped around her like a protective shield. “Just how much do you remember?” She hadn’t really questioned his honesty, but now she wondered. Had she even broken the right man out of prison?

She was going to be extremely pissed if he wasn’t Ivar.

His shoulders tensed, the muscles bunching before they relaxed again. “Like I told you, I can map the universe and seem to have a basic working knowledge of most of the planets and outposts. I’d be at home at a formal dinner. And I speak many languages.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” she asked in the language of her home world of Zaxus. She and her brother practiced daily whenever they were together so as not to lose that part of their heritage.

“Yes, I do,” he replied in the same language, his accent flawless. “Is that where you’re from? Zaxus, right?”

“I was born there. It was long ago.” She switched back to Alliance Standard, not wanting to acknowledge the part of her that still felt like an orphaned child, afraid and adrift in a world she didn’t understand.

He tilted his head back and sighed. “It’s a gift to remember where you come from.”

“Sometimes.” The few good memories she’d retained from her early childhood were tainted by the violent deaths of her parents, of being orphaned on a strange planet, of going hungry and fighting to stay alive.

Needing to move, to do something, she sprang to her feet and went back to the bag of supplies. It only took her a few seconds to find what she was looking for.

“Here.” She set a nourishment bar, a bottle of nutritional liquid, a cloth, and a bar of cleaning soap beside him. “The soap and cloth are primitive, but it’s all they have here.” There were no gel-cleansing units to be found on Tortuga.

“I’m grateful for anything that allows me to get clean.”

Unable to look away, she watched as he rubbed the hard bar over the softer cloth and began to stroke it over his face and neck. His moans of pleasure settled over her, making her skin hot and itchy. He was obviously undernourished, but there were still muscles under the skin that rippled in his arms and chest as he washed away weeks of grime and dirt and dried blood.

He’d gone for the cleaning supplies before the food.

Ivar—at this point she was going to assume she was right about his identity—ducked his head under the water, rubbing his hands over his hair. When he rose, he was gasping for air and clutching his ribs. “Remind me not to do that again.” His lips turned up slightly.

His good humor, in the face of all he’d been through, thawed the icy barrier around her heart. “Do you want me to cut your hair and trim your beard?” The offer was out before she could stop herself.

“Would you?”

Here was her chance to make some excuse and back out, but she nodded instead. “I can’t guarantee how good it will be.”

“Anything is an improvement. Do you want me out of the water?”

“No, stay there.” The angle worked, not to mention she couldn’t see him below the waist. Probably better that way. He was a man she’d helped escape from prison, the brother of her sister’s husband, not a man to be ogled.

There was a small pair of scissors in the medipack. “These aren’t great, but they’ll do.” Kneeling behind him, she tried to pull her fingers through his tangled hair. It was