John Ringo - East of the Sun, West of the Moon

“Oh, I don’t think she was thinking quick,” Megan said, shaking her head.

“The one thing I don’t know is why this has come up so quickly,” Herzer said.

“Well, Mirta understood,” Megan said, tartly. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

“Every morning,” Herzer said.

“I mean below the jaw line,” Megan snapped.

“Oh.”

“You said we hadn’t seen you in shape before,” Megan said, more softly. “We definitely hadn’t seen you getting into shape. Women are not, generally, visual. But there’s a bit there and… Anyway. The other thing is that you’re… changing. I don’t think in a bad way. Actually, I think it was what you were when we met and you’d changed for me. Now you’re becoming… you again. And you are quite…” She paused and thought for a moment then shrugged. “Sexy.”

“Thanks,” Herzer grimaced. “I think.” He looked at her and then frowned. “I don’t suppose you’re starting to think I’m sexy?”

“A bit,” Megan admitted, sighing. “Damn me, but not enough. I’m sorry .” She got up and started to leave but Herzer quickly darted across and grabbed her arm.

“No,” he growled. “You do not get to walk out on that note.”

“Let go of me, Herzer,” Megan said.

“Sit down,” he said, pointing at the chair. “I’m serious.”

Megan sat and looked up at him angrily.

“Okay,” Herzer said, sitting back on the weight bench. “I’m sorry that I asked. It was the wrong time. You’re all messed up about this other thing. It was the wrong time to press. I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Megan said, shaking her head. “This is my fault…”

“Megan,” Herzer cut her off. “Don’t use the term ‘fault’ okay? If it’s anyone’s ‘fault’ it’s Paul’s and you dealt with that ‘fault’ as well as anyone could.” He paused and frowned, then shook his head. “Can I be selfish and blunt for a minute?”

“Yes,” Megan said after a moment’s thought.

“What can I do to make you more able to handle the thought of sex?” he said softly. “I will admit that I want to see your hair spread on a pillow and the soft sweat trickling down your stomach. I want to hear you moan in pleasure, true, real, pleasure. I want to slide my hands between your silken thighs and touch you. I want to kiss your breasts and nuzzle at them like a child. I want to touch you and take you and love you in the hardest possible way. So what can I do to help?” he asked, quietly.

“Oh, God,” Megan said, her eyes closed. “I think you just did.”

“I thought that might help,” Herzer admitted, grinning. “We fell in love so quick we forgot the whole seduction thing. Remind me to get you some flowers.”

“Herzer Herrick,” Megan said in a soft voice. “You are a danger to women.”

“So I’ve been told,” he admitted. “Can we do something?”

“What?” she asked. “Here? On the weight bench or the floor?”

“No, not here,” he said. “After we get rid of Mike and Courtney I want you to throw everyone out with a vengeance. And then we’ll spend an evening together, getting to know each other. And then we’ll see what happens.”

“Okay,” Megan said, nodding. “I think I can face that.”

“It’s not a competition,” Herzer said. “If we don’t have sex, we don’t have sex. That will be up to you. I will admit that I will press, but very gently. Leave it up to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Megan said, her face creasing in worry.

“Don’t tense up about it,” Herzer said. “We’re just going to spend some time talking, that’s all. What happens after the talk is open. It might just be we get tired and snuggle. Okay?”

“Okay,” Megan said, nodding firmly.

“Now we can go,” he said, looking at the chronometer on Meredith’s desk. “Cruz is going to be here soon and I need to take a shower.”

“Yes, you do,” Megan said, sniffing the air.

“Happy sweat,” Herzer said. “Think happy sweat.”

“I will,” Megan said, standing up.

He glanced at her and then at the desk and shook his head.

“Meredith?” he asked, plaintively. “Really?”

“Really, really,” Megan said, shaking her head. “I think she’s going to hold a candle for you for some time, Herzer. Like I said, you’re a danger to women.”

“Damn,” he said. “She’s really hot. You don’t think…”

“Don’t push your luck,” Megan said, chuckling as she opened the door.

“Hey, Cruz,” Herzer said, waving at the couch. “Grab a seat.”

“Herzer.”

Brice Cruz was thin and tall with shoulder length blond hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. He was also dressed in the height of fashion, wearing a light-weight tan suit and a cravat with a gold stickpin.

“Nice duds,” Herzer said.

“The most common flunkie in Washan is a congressional flunkie,” Cruz said, shrugging and pouring himself a glass of wine. “Fitting in is my job.”

Cruz had started out in the Blood Lords but after an unpleasant incident with some bandits he had been asked to leave the service. For a year after that he had tried to find something he was good at besides killing. Unfortunately, no matter what he turned his hand to it never seemed to work out. He’d been close to the bottom rung of the ladder, working as a casual day laborer, when approached by the newly formed UFS intelligence corps. It had offered him an outlet for his skills with the caveat that if he screwed up using them, similarly skillful gentlemen would relieve him of the need to earn a living. Ever. He had performed his duties flawlessly and as a reward they had assigned him to head the security detail for the UFS’ newest council member, who also happened to be the boss’s daughter.

He and Herzer went back to the apprentice program in Raven’s Mill and it had been Herzer who had convinced him that resigning from the Legions was in his best interest. Especially when Herzer, who was at least as “good with his hands” as Cruz, had explained that he had recommended court-martial. Cruz couldn’t find it in his heart to blame Herzer, who was the paladin’s paladin. But he much preferred his current bosses, who had a much grayer approach to the value of human life.

“I’ve got a mission coming up,” Herzer said.

“The quest to capture the fuel ship,” Cruz said, nodding.

“I hope all of Washan isn’t aware of it?” Herzer asked.

“Not even the horsey boys,” Cruz said. “But the legionnaires and Blood Lords are. They don’t talk, though. Our sources haven’t picked it up in the capital so far.”

“Good,” Herzer said, ignoring the point that Cruz was getting intel that he wasn’t. “I want you on the mission.”

“Why?” Cruz asked, frowning. “I thought you didn’t care for my kind.”

“Bullshit,” Herzer said. “And you know it. This is going to be one hairy fisking mission, Cruz. Damned straight I want you on it. You are one stone bitch killer and that’s what it’s going to take. Don’t give me shit about ‘your kind.’ That is ‘your kind.’ ”

“Okay,” Cruz said. “But you’ve got your pick of the damned legions and the Lords. Why me ?”

“Because this thing is going to be… weird,” Herzer pointed out. “I’ll take the Lords and even the legionnaires if it was just a stand-up fight in a field. No problem. This is going to be shit coming out of corridor walls and in every direction. Maybe external on the ship. You can handle that, I take it?”

“I’m not afraid of heights or close spaces if that’s what you mean,” Cruz said, still frowning.

“You’re not going to panic if we get hit from behind by whatever monster Celine has dreamed up this time,” Herzer said. “You’re just going to do the job. I know that. That’s why. So I want you in.”