Bash is beginning to look like he’s in the early stages of experiencing a forest fire. Smoke is pouring around him care of his emotion-driven breaths. “Because I know. There’s no point in him wasting his time chasing her. If she lets him catch her, she’ll only discard him half a dozen rotations from now. Between a hob and a Rakhii, the female will choose the hob. She will always choose the hob over him.”
I pick up a rock and toss it into the cart. I wipe the dust from my hand onto my already-dust-stained pant leg. “You don’t know that. They could be on their way to having something beautiful.” I give the three people (one person and two aliens, I guess) a perplexed look before swinging back to Bash. “How did you get to be so cynical?”
“Life,” Bash bites out. He dead-lifts his boulder.
Lucky me, I’ve got a good vantage to spot him. It’s a really, really nice vantage. And he lifts it safely. Hotly and safely. If he wasn’t being so weird and upset, I’d enjoy this even more. He’s sort of killing my ogling buzz, but I try not to let it slow me down. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”
Oh, the dangerous look he shoots me.
I bite my lip and bob my head. “Gotcha, this is a tender spot. I can see that. And you probably don’t know this, but I can back off. I know when to leave things well enough alone.”
Bash snorts and little flames blow out. He hurls his rock into the cart. Right from where he’s standing. He turns back to look at me, one of his thick brows cocking a little higher than the other one.
“Hey, I just said I’d leave it alone,” I say quickly, and heft my own rock. “See? This is me leaving it alone and working. Stop scowling.” I pass him to walk my rock to the cart, because I’m not insane enough to try throwing it like an Olympic shot put.
I stretch over the side of the wagon to drop it like a normal person. A normal human, anyway. By now, it’s an action I’ve performed a thousand times, or so it feels. But with zero warning, pain steals my breath. An instantaneous backache hits me, one so fierce it could stun a rhinoceros. Being that I’m nowhere near as sturdy as a rhinoceros, it damn near paralyzes me.
Involuntarily, I gurgle-yip-yelp.
“Isla!”
This shout is from Bash, and he sounds like a man who is either extremely furious or extremely worried—or a man who is furious because he’s so worried.
I don’t turn to reassure him that I’m fine because I don’t think I can. The stabbing pain in my back hurts so sharply that I’m scared to move and make it worse.
In a flash, Bash drops to one knee beside me and the wagon. “Who did this?” He glares around us, at everyone picking up rocks nearby. Like we both somehow missed some punk who snuck up behind me with a baseball bat and wham, popped me on the back out of nowhere.
That is how the pain feels, though. “Nobody did anything, psycho. It’s a pinched nerve in my back or something,” I wheeze.
Bash’s hand is at my lower spine, his talons skating across my skin as he fumbles with the hem of my shirt, trying to raise it.
“What are you doing?” I choke out.
“Stop speaking,” Bash orders, and he gently starts kneading my hip with his other hand. “Don’t tense,” he barks.
“Don’t stab me with your claws!” I cry.
Bash leans down enough to catch my eyes—but still keeps his hands where they are. “Isla, I would never.” His kingfisher jade beauties search my features. “May I please raise your clothing?”
“Wow,” I gasp, “you asked instead of ordering. With a please, too! This is amazing. Somebody mark it on the calendar, quick.” My voice is reedy, but I manage to get all my trash-talking out.
Bash’s tongue makes an appearance; it’s not forked, by the way. He’s licking his bottom lip. Nope, his fangs. Oh, I see, the move is vaguely threatening. “Are you taunting me while you’re already in pain?” he asks in a dangerous tone.
I try to smile. “I feel like you can’t hurt me worse. Hey, maybe you’ll even put me out of my misery.”
Bash’s concern is evident, and it doubles at my words. His thumb talon traces my cheek. “Isla…”
A woman nearby whispers way too loudly, “She stops working