The Centurion's Woman

Chapter 24

ALEX KNEW THAT nightmares had plagued her through the whole night, and was actually surprised they'd held off that long. Usually her head started processing the bad stuff right away, tossing her into a few rough nights before settling down. She remembered grinning faces in the water, hands wrapped around her legs and holding her down, and the holy woman at the village where she'd been enslaved swinging that damn club at her and breaking her rib. At the end of both horrors Ixillius had been there, too, and they'd been able to talk to and understand each other. She couldn't remember what they'd said, but it had been a nice fantasy. Other shadows of fighting still clung to her, but she didn't remember any details.

        She uncurled her fingers off his arm, her hands stiff from holding on probably for most of the night. Her throat felt constricted, and the sweat that was dried on her skin wasn't comfortable when she tried to move.

        "Alex?" Ixillius was awake instantly, his arms tightening almost on reflex around her shoulders and hips, pinning her arms, as his leg locked both of hers down.

        "Easy, there, soldier," she said, her level of relief surprising that he'd apparently stopped her from hurting herself last night, and from thrashing him. "Looks like it was a fight-night, huh?"

        Her ex-husband, Jeremy, just slept on the couch when she had fight-nights back when they'd been dating and then married.

        She flexed a bit and he loosened his grip, seeing her eyes were open. The one lamp he'd left lit was still burning, rather low, but burning, and she was able to see the strain on his face when she rolled over. She smiled weakly, not feeling all that much like smiling, just grateful to be waking up here with him. There were a lot worse places to wake up.

        He said something she didn't catch. So much for the nice fantasy. She closed her eyes and just snuggled in his arms, letting the nightmares fade away. She'd been put in therapy as a kid after her gigno had disappeared, and there wasn't anything in her dreams then or now that would have suggested anything worse than a bad scare and some stressful situations. Kind of a no-brainer. She'd been diagnosed early as being cursed with a stable mind. In hindsight, she could easily blame that on her gigno.

        Thinking about home, she wondered how her folks had made it work between them. Her momma had been a total city lady, heading out to the family cabin on holidays, teaching at whatever university she landed a job with that year, living in little rented apartments cluttered with books and the occasional roommate. Then her gigno showed up. They'd always told the story that he'd been a foreign student, too drunk to remember the local language or find his way home after a costume party, and she'd let him sleep on the floor in her living room. They'd lived out at her family's cabin for the first years, staying out of the city but close enough to get to hospitals and doctor appointments while Alex was still young, then they'd started moving around. Alex's momma taught her schooling, her gigno taught them both everything else.

        They were in Canada when her momma died, and after that Alex and her gigno just drifted around. When the authorities would catch up to them, they'd take Alex away or she and her gigno would drift somewhere else. He was good at just living. She'd had a hard time of it after he was gone and she'd had to get along with the modern world, but after waking up here – in this now – she was pretty grateful for living as they had. She revisited her initial thought of punching her gigno as hard as she could as soon as she saw him if he was here, and decided to maybe pull it a bit. Maybe just a slap. Definitely a hug after, though. She missed him, she admitted.

        As Ixillius started to softly snore, her brain fired up on all cylinders. She and her gigno weren't the only ones jumping around the timeline. She rehashed the past two years of conversations in passing and before or after random intercourse, recalling as many details as she could dredge up. Mark hadn't been a great interest in her life – mostly he was a dildo with a pulse if she had to be honest – and a lot of details were missing. It was just that he was easily and consistently available when she needed a sexual release. And she really did love Max. Verus had been the right person to show Max to, she thought, smiling at the way the officer had latched on to the big stallion, his frowns at the old scars and new wounds, and his open amazement at Big Man's abilities.