Patti O'Shea
action romance author
Ravyn's Flight Excerpt
They didn’t go more than a
kilometer before Damon stopped, but most of it was uphill. Ravyn almost
bumped into him, but caught herself in time. She went up on her toes to look
over his shoulder and then had to fight back the temptation to push him out
of her way. Never before had any body of water looked so beautiful to her.
It was a small river, barely more than a creek, but there was fresh, clean
water and she wanted it.
"Wait here," Damon said
quietly.
She knew caution was a good
thing in the situation they were in, but she still shifted impatiently from
side to side. The river called to her like a siren song. Ravyn looked away
from the water and admired the small clearing the creek wound through. The
grass here was short, maybe ankle height, and it added to the appeal. The
little patch of land seemed like an oasis ringed with trees, bushes, tall
grass and sprouting wild flowers.
When Damon gave the all-clear
sign, Ravyn barely kept from running. It took more self-discipline than it
should have, but she managed to fill her canteen and wait for Damon to fill
his before rolling up her sleeves and plunging her dirty hands in the water.
She rubbed at the grime, but still didn’t feel clean. As she scrubbed, she
watched him take the canteens and drop a small tablet into each. She hadn’t
even thought about microorganisms.
Ravyn perked up when she
remembered there was a plant that grew near water in this area with a
soap-like sap. Pulling her hands out, she dried them on her pants and looked
around. When she spotted the thick, flat protrusions of the plant she
wanted, she smiled. "Can I have your knife?"
It was a measure of trust that
he didn’t ask what for, just handed it to her. She flipped open the blade
and cut some limbs from the plant. Kneeling at the edge of the river, she
sliced open one of the fleshy leaves and used the soap to clean her hands.
Catching Damon’s curious gaze, she said, "Soap plant." She gestured to the
pile beside her. "Help yourself."
"You can’t remember which
plants are edible, but you know which one can be used as soap," he commented
wryly.
"It’s a matter of priorities."
Ravyn said and submerged her head. She split open another leaf and washed
her hair and face.
When she finished, she noticed
Damon had removed his shirt and T-shirt. Her eyes widened as she admired the
sight. Only a scar high on his left arm marred the perfection of his body.
His shoulders had looked broad in fatigues, out of them, they seemed
impossibly wider. He had a light dusting of hair across his pecs. She
followed the line to his ripped abs, drooled over them briefly, before
continuing down to the waistband of his pants.
The tips of her fingers itched
to touch, to stroke that warm skin and the hard muscles beneath it. She
could almost feel the crispness of his chest hair. Her lids slid half-shut
as she tried to decide where and how he’d like to be touched. A drop of
water traveled from his neck to his left nipple. She wanted to push his dog
tags aside, press her mouth to his skin and lick it.
Ravyn nearly hummed aloud
before she realized he was getting half a bath. "Hey!" she squawked. "That’s
not fair!"
Damon looked over, a smug
smile on his face. It was a dare, plain and simple, she decided. It was
stupid, but she’d never been able to turn down a challenge. Pulling out the
tails of her shirt, she started unbuttoning. She could feel his eyes on her.
Playing a game of chicken with
a Spec Ops officer ranked as one of the dumbest things she had ever done,
but that didn’t stop her. When she undid the last button, she slowly
separated the edges of her shirt. Ravyn knew the slowness came across as
teasing, but she was waiting for him to turn his back.
Her hands started to tremble. He was going to call her bluff and pride
wouldn’t let her back down. At least her bra was black, she thought and
hesitantly slipped the fabric from her shoulders. As soon as she discarded
the shirt, she started to bring her arms up to cover herself, but stopped
before they moved far. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how
uncomfortable this made her feel. She shifted so her wet hair fell forward
and concealed the blush she knew stained her face.
Her body responded to his nearness, adding to her embarrassment. Even with
the black bra, he wouldn’t miss her reaction. Without so much as a glance,
she knew she had his complete attention. His stare burned her. She fought
back a shakiness that seemed to start at her core and swallowed hard.
Doing her best to ignore him, she leaned forward and used her hands to wash
her upper torso. She tried to be careful, tried to keep her bra from getting
wet, but she wasn’t entirely successful. When she straightened, she could
feel water wend its way down her chest. Her nipples hardened further.
Whether it was the cool water or the heat of Damon’s eyes, she didn’t know.
A choked off groan startled Ravyn enough that she finally looked at him
again. He hadn’t been trying to call her bluff, she realized belatedly. His
eyes were hot and glued to her breasts. Mortified, she dropped her gaze only
to find herself staring at his growing erection.
Now it was Ravyn’s turn to choke. That part of him appeared to be in
proportion to the rest of his oversized body. A flare of arousal shot
through her at the sight and brought her back to her senses. They couldn’t
do this. With more speed than grace, she grabbed her shirt and pulled it on.
She shook so badly, it took twice as long to fasten the buttons than usual.
This time Damon stuck his head in the water.
Ravyn moved from the edge of the river, and averting her eyes, took deep,
calming breaths. When the trembling abated, she ran her fingers through her
hair, trying to work the snarls out.
"Here," Damon said, sneaking up on her again, "use this."
He handed her the porcupine cone and didn’t waste any time moving a safe
distance away. The cone was part of the tree branch, but was oval with
spikes coming out of it. As she held it in her hands, she realized at some
point Damon had blunted the sharp quills so she could brush her hair without
hurting herself.
"Thank you," she called. Ravyn didn’t dare comment on how thoughtful he was,
not when he had just managed to get over her mentioning his sensitivity last
night.
Starting at the ends of her long hair, she worked the cone until she had all
the tangles out. It felt good to have her hair clean and smooth again, but
it wouldn’t last long. Probably just a couple hours would have it all
knotted up again, especially with the breeze picking up. Ravyn looked around
and saw dark clouds close on the horizon. She couldn’t guess what direction
that was, but it didn’t matter. The storm was heading their way.
Pushing herself to her feet, she went to Damon. He had his T-shirt on; his
fatigue shirt had been washed and was drying on a nearby bush. She grimaced
over her own filthy top, but this time kept her mouth shut. "Thanks again,"
Ravyn told him, handing him the porcupine cone. "It feels good to have my
hair brushed."
She watched him stow it carefully in the pack with their food supply before
he straightened and held out a shortened boot lace. "If you want to braid
your hair or something, you can tie it off with this," he said roughly.
"Good idea," Ravyn said, taking the tie. She sat next to their pack and
vests and tried to braid the damp mass of hair. It was a struggle. Her mom
had braided her hair for her; she’d never done it herself. At least Damon
had moved off so he wasn’t right there while she fumbled. The third time the
damn thing fell apart on her, Ravyn started cussing under her breath.
Growing up the way she had, her repertoire was extensive.
After several more failed attempts, she reluctantly admitted there was no
way she was going to be able to make a braid herself. Ravyn turned her head
until she spotted Damon. He wasn’t looking at her, but the smirk on his face
led her to believe he could hear her cursing. He’d tied his damp shirt
around his waist and that had to mean they’d be moving out soon.
"Damon."
"Yeah?"
"Could you come here for a minute please?" she asked in her sweetest voice.
He studied her suspiciously for a moment before joining her. "What?"
"Would you do my hair for me? Please?"
"You’re kidding, right?"
"I’d keep trying myself, but we have a time constraint."
He considered the sky for a moment before settling behind her with a sigh.
"Give me the tie," he ordered.
"Thank you." Ravyn handed him the lace.
Damon snorted. "You’re just lucky I used to braid my horse’s mane when I was
in prep school."
Ravyn knew hair didn’t have nerve endings, but the feel of Damon’s hands on
her tresses got her all hot and bothered again. She could feel his breath on
the nape of her neck and fought to control the shiver of lust that wanted to
go through her body.
She didn’t think he was unaffected either. His breathing sounded harsher to
her, louder than it had been when he started. Then there was the fact that
the very graceful Captain Brody was suddenly all thumbs. By the time he had
tied off her braid, Ravyn wanted nothing more than to sink back against him.
His hands came up, rested on her shoulders briefly before he trailed them
down her arms to her wrists. He never touched bare skin, but it was the most
erotic thing she’d ever known. She could feel the hardness of his chest
against her back, the warmth of his body wherever they touched.
This isn’t smart, she thought, leaning into him.
"Tell me to stop, Ravyn," he whispered near her ear.
"Don’t stop."
"This is stupid."
"I know."
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. She felt enveloped by
his strength, protected, wanted. Ravyn turned toward him, raised her lips
and watched as he lowered his head.
The first rain drop hit her in the middle of her forehead.
They barely had time to untangle themselves from each other before the sky
opened up.
This excerpt is from RAVYN'S
FLIGHT
by Patti O'Shea
Love Spell
Copyright November 2002
