Bay of Sighs (The Guardians Trilogy 2)

In the kitchen, Bran cleaned and dressed wounds with Sasha’s help.

“Not too much damage, considering.”

Frowning, Doyle picked up his leather coat, poked a finger through the slice in the sleeve. “I like this coat. It’s only got about thirty years on it.”

“I’ll have a look at it.” At the kitchen sink, Bran washed blood and balm from his hands. “And now that we’re on the mend, I’ll tell you we will have that something new. The bolts, bullets, blades—and the bracelets. I’ve nearly got what we’ll want there. Another day, two at most.”

“Hot damn,” Riley said over a mouthful of salami and cheese.

“If it works as planned, we’ll be able to take out a swarm of those bloody birds with one shot.”

“Even hotter damn.” As he ate, as he felt his energy level creep up from zero, Sawyer nodded at Riley. “We’re going to need to score more ammo anyway.”

“Got that covered.”

“Now you.” Sasha nudged Bran to sit so she could treat his wounds. “It’s the same as on Corfu. A nightmare like that comes out of the sky. We fight, bleed, kill, and no one notices. It doesn’t happen for anyone else.”

“Best it doesn’t, isn’t it? Explanations only cause complications. I’m going out, make sure there aren’t any stragglers.”

“Hell.” Riley stuffed another bite in her mouth, rose with Doyle. “I’ll go with you.”

Bran crooked a finger. “Let’s see the coat first.”

After Doyle tossed him the coat, Bran laid a hand over the gash in the sleeve as Sasha coated balm over one in his own arm.

Then he handed back the coat, battered as it had been, but undamaged.

“Thanks.”

When they went out, Bran smiled at Annika. “You don’t ask me to fix your shoes?”

“It’s not important. Doyle’s coat is like . . . armor. I think it’s a kind of armor for him. These are only shoes.”

“Without them,” Sasha pointed out, “your feet would have been cut more seriously.” She picked them up from the floor herself, handed them to Bran. “So, they’re a kind of armor, too.”

When Bran handed them back to her, whole, Annika hugged him. “Thank you. I’m going to take Sawyer to bed now.”

Sawyer choked on a bite of salami; Annika offered him water.

“He doesn’t say it, but he’s very tired. The food helps, but now he needs to rest. Come to bed, Sawyer. You can sleep in my bed. Only sleep,” she added, offering a hand.

As she led him out, they heard her say, “If you want to have sex, you should lie quiet and let me take you to the ending.”

With a half laugh, Bran tugged Sasha into his lap. “What a woman she is.”

“But she’s not.” Torn, Sasha stared after them. “She’s not of this world, and her time here is limited. It’s limited because she saved my life.”

She pressed her cheek to Bran’s, to the gift he was to her. “I encouraged this between them. They both wanted, and I . . . But the love for him, Bran, it pours out of her. Deep and fierce and complete. Now, all I can think is, what will happen to her, to her heart, when she has to leave him?”

“Love is.” Treasuring his own, he stroked her hair. “And sometimes the gods are kind to those who give it.”

“Not much evidence of that so far.”

“Right here.” He drew her into a kiss. “How could I not believe in the kindness of the gods when I have you? Be glad for what they have now.”

“And have faith in tomorrow?”

“It’s what we have. Now, you should rest as well.”