#skywarrior

NA-3A Skywarrior fitted with an AWG-9 radar launches an XAIM-54A Phoenix air-to-air missile. 1966.

Two Douglas EA-3B Skywarriors from Fleet Air Reconnaissance Squadron 2 (VQ-2) fly past Gibraltar.

Photographed by PH3 Franklin P. Call, USN., on June 20, 1991.

Words: 509

Genre: YA, travel to another world (Isekai)

Title: Sky Warrior

Valena pinched her lips and did as she was told. Hevolas grunted when she applied the pressure to his shoulder she knew was necessary. His breath ruffled her hair, and she pressed harder, determined to be useful. She owed him her life. Tending to him didn't feel enough. Not to express her gratitude or how sorry she was he got hurt for her. But it was a start, and she would do it right.

"That should be enough," Hevolas said after several minutes.

Valena let go of the folded gauze and proceeded to wrap him back up. He was so warm and... muscular. She bit the inside of her cheek. She worked around athletic men every day at the gym. Hevolas's physic shouldn't fluster her. The others never did. But... she peeked up at him. There was something frighteningly alluring about the Third Prince. She tore her gaze from him and tied off the bandage.

"There." She sat back and wiped her hands with a clean corner of the cloth.

"Valena," Hevolas called. She looked at him expectantly, and he waved his fingers to beckon her closer. She leaned in, felt her face flare when he brushed his fingers across her cheek and gasped when he closed the distance between them. His lips, soft and sweet tasting, touched hers.

She froze, the sensation of her chest setting on fire and her legs trembling unfamiliar despite her having kissed another man before. Then Hevolas pulled away and tilted his head at her.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Uh-hu. You taste. Peachy--peachy kissies," she stuttered. Her eyes rounded in horror when she heard herself, and her face turned into a tomato. A flaming, hot tomato redder than his gorgeous auburn hair.

"Hm." He brushed back her bangs. Intimate. Close. The excitement in her chest was choking her. "Do I?" he asked.

"Ah--I!" What. Did. She. Just. Say?

Then the door behind her opened, and she whirled around to face it. The vassal had returned.

"My apologies, Miss, Your Highness. The First Prince has commanded the young lady be taken to the baths while a bed is prepared for her here."

"Here?" Valena asked, her voice several decibels higher than normal.

"Of course," the vassal replied. "You are to nurse his Highness until he fully recovers as you had hoped. Come along." He waved her toward him, and feeling like a fish on a string, she rose and plodded out the door. "Supper will be brought to you shortly, Your Highness. This way, Miss Valena." The vassal held out his arm, and Valena climbed the stairs, her fingers pressed to her lips.

"He tasted good," she whispered.

"What was that?" the vassal asked.

Valena looked back at him. "Nothing!" she cried. "Nothing at all." She raced up the stairs and wondered. How did she face Prince Hevolas after that? How did she keep her distance from him? Because the last thing she wanted was to get caught up in a gorgeous prince of another world and never return to her own.

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