“You brought her HERE!?” Damon’s voice echoed around the room like a clap of thunder. “Are you INSANE!?”

Han had brought her to the safe-house they’d requisitioned from the mercenaries that had attempted to kill Idina. The very place the two of them were now using to keep the mercenaries incarcerated.

“She struck Sybil.”

“Oh wow, congra-.” Damon’s words came to a halt, his brow furrowed. “Wait, the edict, she’s… not a user.”

Han nodded slowly. “She is not. And she is not in the best state of mind either.”

Damon grimaced, this did not seem like something he was prepared to help with. Punching bad guys was easy, simple, direct. This? This sounded like a mess he was only going to make worse. His mouth was half open in preparation of proclaiming exactly that when he heard the creak of wood.

Idina stood there, looking into the room with a heavy gaze. Her eyes moved over the four mercenaries currently occupying the opposite corner of the room and then zeroed on to Damon like lasers.

Damon knew that look. It brought memories of a family that was not his, of a life he had not lived, in a place that probably didn’t even exist anymore.

“I will monitor them while you’re gone.”

It wasn’t lost to the human that Han had made his comment with near perfect timing. It was accompanied by a half shove that sent him half tumbling forward. Damon caught himself fast, watching Idina bow her head slightly. “Sir.” She declared in what felt like a forced attempt to break the ice.

“Let’s… go somewhere else.”

Not wanting to make things any more awkward, he quickly marched off towards one of the far rooms in the subterranean apartment that was more like some sort of repurposed maintenance area that had been cleared out decades ago.

The room he came to a stop at was the one that was being used as a kitchen. Small chairs, small table, and some rusted metal cabinets that meant the place had probably been some sort of dresser room.

“I know I am a bother here, sir.”

She was tense, her hands firmly on her back, her head slightly lowered.

“Nope, the bother are the other guys.” Damon didn’t miss a beat. “Look, my concern is that they were literally trying to kill you. If I could dump them into a barrel and roll them down the mountain, I would.”

Idina’s shoulders relaxed marginally, letting out a nervous chuckle. “They are terrified and in awe of you, sir, I doubt they would try anything… at least while you are nearby.”

“Yeah, the problem is that I will not be around all the time.” He replied, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “We’re following the breadcrumbs, kind of, whoever ordered the hit on you took a lot of precautions.”

Idina nodded absently, sitting down and turning her gaze to the floor. “Who… do you think it is?”

“They paid a lot of gold, so it can’t be some nobody.” Damon shrugged. “But I’m not the brains of this operation, Han’s the one that knows how things work around here. I’m more the guy that goes knocking down doors.”

“It would be very easy for you, sir.”

She let out another short laugh, nodding a bit and rubbing her cheek.

“So you hit Sybil.” Yup, that was him being tactful, he had the tact of a truck and the delicacy of a concrete brick to the face. “Want to talk about it?”

“Could you tell me… how it feels?”

“How what feels?”

“... violence.” Her gaze lingered on the sling that hung from his hip.

Well, that’s a curve ball if he’d ever heard any. Damon considered the question for a moment. “It feels really good.” He finally said, taking the chair next to hers and leaning back. “Sure, it hurts, and that sucks, and it’s terrifying all over, but… it feels good. To just grab all your anger and put it into your fist and shove it into someone’s face… yeah, it feels pretty damn great.”

“You’re… afraid? When you fight?”

“Definitely.” Damon nodded. “I mean, I could die or get messed up. Who wouldn’t be afraid? You guys have this crazy wonderful medicine, but even that doesn’t make the feeling just vanish.” He chuckled slightly. “Though I guess being afraid also helps.”

Idina’s eyes widened slightly. “It does?”

“Not being afraid just… Sure, too much fear is bad, it paralyzes you, and… well, too little is also dangerous, it makes you lose all sense of caution. Be brave, not stupid, that kind of thing.”

The sasin’s silver ears drooped slightly as she turned to stare at the metal wall.

“Was I… brave?” She didn’t turn to look at him, though he noticed how she rubbed her thumb against her palm. “I hit Sybil, a user.”

Damon swallowed his first reaction and took a second to reconsider. “Did she deserve it?” He suspected the answer, but it felt worth asking the question.

Idina lowered her head, looking at her hand for several long seconds. “Yes.”

“Seems to me like you were brave.”

The young woman let out the faintest sigh, her shoulders loosening completely, her thumb against her palm slowed and stopped. Slowly, she swallowed, turning to look at Damon with wide eyes that held within them something he couldn’t quite read.

He hoped he hadn’t fucked up. Talking with Idina had always made him feel like his words carried far more weight than he intended them to. Even now, he could see the way she shifted, as if trying to decipher some impossibly deep meaning to what he’d told her.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Then her hand was on his knee, and something else entirely ran through Damon’s mind. She shifted again, now turning to face him, eyelids fluttered. Idina leaned closer, breath catching in a heartbeat of anticipation.

And Damon felt a pit in his stomach, this was serious. It wasn’t too late to turn her down. All he had to do would be shift, move, just a little, move, remove her hand from his knee, move away, just move.

Do something.

Anything.

Her lips were soft, there was a lingering taste of sweat on them, she smelled of raspberries. Her long ears caught between his fingers as he’d tried to comb her hair between his fingers.

Idina flinched, pulling away.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“I… I shouldn’t have done that… sir.”

The moment broke, she flushed, pulling away. She’d nearly stood up when his hand reached out to grab her hand. It was a delicate touch; he felt apprehension at potentially hurting her. Idina froze, breath coming in short and fast, like a rabbit standing before a wolf.

“Sir?”

“Damon.” He loosened his grip, but she didn’t pull away. “Just… call me Damon.”

“I… yes, sir-Damon! Yes. I-uh, I need…” She looked at the door, her fingers remained in his grasp. “I…”

It took only a tug, a tiny slow tug. What was he doing? Damon’s brain spun its wheels out of control as he felt how comfortable it was to pull her on to his lap. The part of him currently in control had to fight against several other parts of him. He wanted to tear her clothes off, find out what lay beneath, he wanted to run straight out the door and lock it behind him; he wanted to scream at himself. What was he doing? This was not what he was-.

Idina sat on his lap, looking up at him, her eyes wide and silent, her hands fell on his shoulders, and she pulled herself closer still. The sasin was so light against him, fragile.

“I shouldn’t.” Why was he talking? He was fucking up. “We shouldn’t.”

“I… know.”

This time they kissed and pulled each other closer. He knew what she felt, how she felt, he knew he did not feel the same. He wasn’t sure what he felt at all. Only that Idina between his arms gave him something he couldn’t let go of.

There was no urgency or pressure, only the moment, the slow lingering kiss, Idina’s arms wrapped around his neck and his own keeping her hips firmly rooted in place. Some corner of Damon wanted to push, but it was just drowned in the sensation. It was the first time he’d felt a kiss that was so full of passion yet devoid of hunger.

The moment passed all too briefly before they pulled away enough to breathe.

Idina’s face turned bright red, she turned to look away. Her ear slapped Damon’s cheek, and she squeaked in embarassment, trying to jump away. He didn’t let her, pulling her back in without effort, pulling her head against his chest and allowing her to angle herself comfortably.

The young woman leaned into his broad shoulders, closing her eyes, pressing her cheek against his shirt and becoming still.

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” A sudden wave of concern passed through him at the slight distress in her voice.

“N-nothing, I… uh… I’m just… singing. A bit. A little.”

Damon ignored the stab in his chest. Guilt? Shame? Regret? Fear? Whatever it was, he pushed it down. Deep down. “And… what does that mean?”

Idina didn’t answer, instead, her face became redder. She was practically glowing as her ears wiggled slightly, the metal sheen reflecting the light as the young woman covered her face with her hands and pressed herself against him as if trying to hide herself from sight.

She might even pull it off.

With a sigh, Damon just hugged her closer, leaning down against her hair. This… wasn’t what he’d wanted. But the ache inside his chest told him it was definitely something he’d needed.

What did it mean?

There was a knock at the door. “Not to interrupt your chorus, but they want to talk.”

“Wait, really?” Damon had stood up in one fluid motion, Idina let out a shriek but he’d easily held her in place. “What hap-?” He paused, blinked, then looked down at Idina as he lowered her. “Oh.”

They’d heard her hymn. They probably suspected Idina meant more to him than they’d initially suspected. And… he didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Most likely.” Han acknowledged with a half-nod.

Damon tried to ignore how Idina seemed to swell at the comment.

“Let’s just go.” He glanced at Idina. “And you stay here.”

“Yes, sir, Damon-sir Damon.”

“Just… just wait, ok?”

He tried not to sound nervous or pushy, and was certain he’d failed both, not that anything seemed capable of putting a dent on the blush she was fighting against. Damon also may or may not have had to struggle against an eased smile, but he wasn’t paying much attention to that, focusing more on what lay ahead.

Because he definitely did not want to figure out what had just happened or what it meant.

The mercenaries were exactly how they’d left them, sitting on the floor, and chained with enough metal it took them considerable effort to raise their arms. Han had confirmed none had the sort of grafts that could enhance physical capabilities, but Damon wasn’t taking chances.

The leader, Tsanaki, had shifted positions and was not in front of the others. The woman who’d given them information in exchange for the guy being captured alive was directly behind him. Both of them were looking at Damon with something that was certainly different from an hour ago.

If Damon had any kind of hope, he’d have said it was an edge of respect. But he was not a betting man.

“We… did not tell you everything we knew.”

“Shocker.”

He dragged the metal chair from the edge of the room to directly in front of the captives. It was the sort of power move he enjoyed because there was no one else around that could handle the weight of the thing so easily.

“You were saying?”

“We… prefer having insurance.”

“I’m sure you do.” Damon kept his smile tight.

Tsanaki squirmed, lowering his gaze and staring at the chair for several long seconds. “If you follow the lead we gave you, and you are lucky, you would eventually find out that the client who had hired us was someone from the Incuuri.”

“You’re going to need more than words to back that claim.” Han quickly declared, scowling.

“Who’re the Incuuri?”

“Their family is a big name all over the continent, merchants for the most part. They have a minor branch in Sky Bridge, and it is the wealthiest group here.” Han stroked his beard thoughtfully, keeping his gaze on the mercenaries. “Well?”

Tsanaki swallowed. “We have a recording, but…” He glanced at the others, then went quiet. Damon noticed how Han twitched, then grimaced.

“Well?”

“They have what they say they do, but they want a chance to escape the Order since they’ll be put to death otherwise.” The man stroked his beard in thought, though the look in his eyes was cold.

Damon’s brows creased, lips thinning. “Let’s put a pin on that. What does the Incuuri being involved mean for us?”

“It means you need to talk to the Goddess.”

Talk to the Goddess? No way in hell. The last thing he needed was going back to the temple. But he wasn’t about to shoot down Han without at least knowing what was going on.

“Explain.”

“The Incuuri practically runs the merchant guild. The recording connects one servant to these mercenaries, but if we made the claim, the Incuuri would just shrug it off and throw the guy to the metaphorical dragon. They hold too much power to be touched without more solid proof.”

Damon nodded slowly, hating every word. “I’m placing bets they run a market on ‘second-hand-axons’.”

Han’s expression soured. “That seems to be the tie, I cannot fathom any other reason they would attack Idina. She is a loose end, nothing else.”

“If they’re half as influential you say they are… it’s going to be tough.”

“That’s why I said you should talk to the Goddess.” Han pressed, glaring at Damon. “At least Irsi will listen to you. She need-.”

“She’s going to insist I have to kill a dragon.” His hackles rose, but he kept his tone cool and controlled. “I’m not dumb enough to think I can just go there and boss them around.”

The man bit his lip, brows furrowing deeply and letting out a severe grunt as he shook his head. “Then let us try to find out the truth first. But if we fail, we go to the temple. We cannot let this situation slip from our grasp.”

Damon was half-way through his nod when he paused. “Wait, what do you mean ‘if we fail’? Do you have a plan?”

“Yes, we only need to enter their household.” Han laughed. “And they will let us walk in right through the front gate.”