Free Dragon Hunted by JB McDonald

Dragon Hunted
    JB McDonald
    With many thanks to Quin, who rubs my back, deals with my wailing about edits, and, best of all, doesn't mind the other woman in my life. And to the other woman in my life, who is the best hand-holding editor a writer could ask for!
    "Hey, Katsu. I need a wrap."
    The moment when Katsu noticed the blood seeping from between Ashe's fingers, which were clamped tightly around Ashe's left hand, was obvious. Katsu's dark eyes bugged out and his own broad, human hands tensed in alarm. "What the nine hells did you do ?"
    Ashe loved it when Katsu said something particularly human like that. He crooked a grin, tipping his head to see past long strands of pale brown hair. "I was showing Eddie--"
    "She hates it when you call her that." Already Katsu was snatching up lengths of bandage and pots of salve. The little shelves built into the medic wagon shook with the force of his grabs.
    Ashe continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "--some knife tricks I know--"
    Katsu stopped, glaring up at him. "What is wrong with you? I should have known this was self-inflicted. Only an elf would do something this idiotic ..."
    Ashe frowned. "I'm trying to tell you what's wrong with me, and it doesn't have to do with my race." As expected, Katsu just leveled a flat, unimpressed glare at him again. Ashe grinned broadly, showing off the slightly pointed canines that matched his delicately pointed ears. "It was great, right up until I missed."
    Katsu slapped Ashe's good hand away, then grabbed the injured one and lifted it to peer down, pulling Ashe into a sun patch to see better. It gave Ashe a moment to admire the way light played on Katsu's gold skin and ran down his silky black hair. Katsu was smaller than most of the other humans in their crew, and definitely shorter than Ashe. Ashe found him utterly charming. "We're hunting dragons here." Even his acerbic tone.
    " A dragon," Ashe corrected.
    "They don't need your help in slicing you to pieces." Katsu twisted Ashe's slender hand this way and that, wiping at the blood with a rag, pulling at the cut.
    The wound was small but livid against Ashe's pale skin.
    Ashe winced and tried not to resist. The medic only got worse if he thought you were thwarting him. "Dragons don't slice," Ashe muttered, pain washing away any good cheer. "They chomp."
    With a grunt, Katsu dropped Ashe's hand and unscrewed a cap from a jar. "They especially like chomping idiots." He dipped two fingers in the salve -- a disturbing blood color -- and smeared it across the cut before wrapping it tightly. His movements were quick, economical, as if he'd done this a million times before -- which, of course, he had. "Try not to use it for a few hours while it binds. And if you must use it, don't come whining to me." With a sour look, he shoved Ashe's hand back and turned away, muttering under his breath.
    Ashe hesitated, watching the graceful way Katsu's muscles, exposed by his short-sleeved tunic and the odd lengths of cloth wrapped around his forearms, moved. But Katsu had already dismissed him, and the stinging in his hand was getting worse. Ashe frowned and examined it, turning away. He glanced back once, trying to think of something to say, but the look on the human's face wasn't encouraging. Plus, Ashe's hand was really starting to hurt.
    Carrying his hand cradled gingerly against his chest, Ashe threaded his way through pitched tents and mercenaries, around bladed weapons and pointed spears, back to the banked campfire. Come nightfall, they'd be ready to slay a dragon. Come daybreak, they'd be ready to collect their reward.
    He swung a leg over the fallen log that Eddie was using as a bench, straddling it and sitting carefully. "I don't think he likes me." Ashe didn't have to say who "he" was.
    Eddie didn't look up from oiling her bow. "Of course he doesn't. You're always pestering him for stupid things and hurting yourself in stupid ways. A medic has better use for his time than patching your sorry ass