Addicted In Cold Blood (47 page)

“What takes a human child five years to master, like basic math, addition and subtraction, we learn within our first year or two of life. The delivery is pretty much the same for human women as it is for Zarkstormian women—same type of labor,” he sucked in air as his mind raced, “Let me worry about this, okay? I will get the rest of the answers we need. I’ll figure it out, I promise.” Kissing her forehead, he stood and tucked the sheets around her.

“Where are you going?” she asked, concern knitting her brows.

“I’m not leaving. I’ll be right here in the living room, but I don’t want to disturb you. Go ahead, get some sleep.”

“No, Xzion. I need you right here beside me...” She patted the side of the bed, inviting him in. He briefly faltered and looked around the room, then peeked his head out the bedroom door. Jayson’s was slumped in his loveseat, sound asleep, the glow of the television on his face. He closed the door back, slowly undressed and crawled next to Jayme’s sweet, warm body. He’d missed her so much. His cock instantly swelled, his balls tightened, and lust skyrocketed.

Once he felt her skin against his, he closed his eyes and tried to control the stirring in his body. All of the sensual tension increased ten-fold. He brought her close to him, and she moaned upon contact, making self-control even harder. Tilting her chin upward, he kissed her ever so softly, then more forcefully as he drove his tongue deep inside of her mouth. She reciprocated, melting into him as much as he was melting into her. He was experiencing his first relapse since his return his own personal ‘crack house’, and he loved every second of it.

If he were an addict, he would have strapped the imaginary belt around his forearm, grabbed the needle and injected her into his system, anxious to feel her warmth creep into his blood stream. He’d fought the thoughts while she slept, feeling slightly guilty for daydreaming of being inside of her, but he’d lost that fight—the first one of his life. The sun broke over the horizon and so did his resolve, and he was now simply happy for the long-awaited embrace.

He was addicted, and no addict can lie next to their drug of choice, cuddle up with it, smell its intoxicating aroma, feel it all over their flesh and not fall under its magical, hedonistic spell. He was weak...so very weak when it came to her...

I can’t wait any longer...

Her eyes flew open as he pushed powerfully inside of her, each thrust full of longing. He couldn’t control himself as his moans grew louder and louder, he could hear his voice – but couldn’t rein it in. He claimed her, letting out a groan when she wrapped her long legs around him, drawing him further inside.

“Oh, God,” Her back arched as he sank deeper inside of her, now moving so seductively slow, so sensually...

He
needed
to go deep; he needed to be so deep within her, that nothing else mattered. Soon, she was writhing beneath him, cooing incoherently, but he heard his name in the muddled mess, loud and clear...

“Ahhh, Jayme! Oh baby! Shiiiiit!” He reached down and pulled her face to him, so he could look in her eyes when she came.

“Do it...” she pressed on, pushing her heels into his ass, urging to drive inside of her to the max. “Come on, Xzion...you know what I want.” She bucked beneath him, another orgasm on the horizon.

“Ahhh! Ahhh!” He gripped her harder, thrusting, screaming, gnashing his teeth. “Uhhh! Oh God!”

He released...

“Ahhh...Uhhh....Mmmm...”

Sweet relief.

But it didn’t matter. He’d be chasing the next high soon and the one right after that for a damned eternity because he simply had to have her.

His coolness drifted deep inside of her warm sheath, making him shudder as the last of him escaped. In moments, they lay in each other’s arm, he still inside of her, both wide awake. The fear of the unknown was more than likely on her mind, but the way she hugged him, made him feel secure, gave him the courage to continue on—and take care of the business at hand. Now that he had his medicine, luxuriated inside her moist softness, he was certain there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish. He was flying high, never wanting to be sober again. For now, he’d stay deep within her, relishing what he had missed and needed for so long...

Two week later...

Xzion threw the hammer across the room, watching it hit the trashcan and topple over the contents. From the window, he glanced at a green parked car from his kitchen window then tried to work out the stiff kinks in his back muscles. He and Jayme had a long talk—no one was moving any damn where. She’d already been through so much, snatching her away from the only place she knew would be traumatic and he wouldn’t risk it, especially in her condition. Instead, he worked on Plan B.

He’d repaired his home, staying up all hours of the night to get it back to its original luster before Aton and his wrecking crew had gone in and destroyed the joint, looking for information and evidence. It had taken all of his energy, but it was finally finished. He was pleased to discover they hadn’t found the padlocked safe hidden in a sliding panel in the wall, where he kept the cash. It would sustain him and his entire family for a mighty long time. Wiping his brow, he popped an ice cube in his mouth. It was important that he have a place for Jayme to stay, a place of security, a sanctuary that would put her troubled mind at ease. What was once her cell would now be her haven.

He wrestled with himself, trying to think of ways to bypass the Zarkstorm neonatal physicians on his planet, but that was impossible. They were the only ones who could aid him in making sense of the matter at hand. He was surprised by his extraordinary elation and feelings of excitement, and did his best to suppress such alien emotions. He’d resisted placing his ear to her stomach, knowing that if he did, he’d be hooked and the devastation of bad news would overwhelm him beyond words.

He shot Jayme a glance from over his shoulder. Tonight there was going to be a special dinner organized by co-workers and staff to welcome her back. He tried to stay home, insisted it would be awkward. How could he sit amongst them and break bread? He’d killed two of their men. He was the one everyone was looking for; it seemed like a slap in the face, but the old him would have found the situation ironically humorous. Not anymore though—she was genuinely hurt about what had happened and he hated that he had caused her emotional pain.

Nevertheless, she insisted he attend, stating his presence helped her remain calm, regardless of his protest. News had hit the airwaves less than twenty-four hours after the calamity, of the FBI Agents that were murdered, one of which cases was stated to be similar to the ‘XXX’ murderer’s handiwork. It was noted that his infamous branding wasn’t left on the corpse, so the details were inconclusive.

He patted his hands dry and nodded at her lying lazily on the couch, her black headphones on as she smiled and bobbed her head while surfing the web. She’d been reunited with her family and friends, and wanted to quickly re-enter her vocation as an officer. He urged her to take her time, but she insisted that she wished to start back as soon as possible—it helped her not worry about their baby as much. Making his way back into their bedroom, he closed the door, searching for the right words, to make himself clear. He hadn’t spoken to Aton since the day of the trial—the one he had the audacity to walk out on and dare anyone to try to stop him.

They knew better once he laid the threat at their feet. He had treated it like a kangaroo court; that in itself was a serious offense. Now, he would be practically groveling at the man’s feet, pleading for understanding and help. He gritted his teeth and kicked the air in anger. Resistance was futile. He bucked against the prospects as he resolved his fate. He hated that he’d have to humble himself before the beast, but Jayme was worth it, their baby was worth it. He’d created a crude device, much like the one that was placed in his wrist before they disarmed him, only this one didn’t have all the bells and whistles. All it did was allow him to call home, or at least he hoped.

He slumped down at the small desk in the master suite, tipping the chair back as he dragged out the inevitable. After he convinced himself to just get the whole ordeal over with, he proceeded to tap the device. The buttons came on, shining brightly under their yellow casings. He hit two additional buttons and waited, hoping and praying the thing would deliver. He hadn’t had to make a transistor, a two-way computer, since the age of seventeen for his science project—and he hoped he had recalled enough to make the antiquated technology do what it needed to do. He didn’t have the parts for anything better. Earth didn’t have everything he required, so he’d went to a computer parts scrap store and made do with what he could find.

Someone answered, their voice fading in and out with the static.

“Hello, this is Officer P9-7117. I have an emergency.”

“What is your emergency?”

He felt as if he were on an Earth bound 911 call. Sighing, he ran his foot over a tiny piece of lint trapped in the soft cream fibers of the small rug beneath him. “I need to speak with Dr. Aton Nium.”

“Please hold...”

He could no longer access Aton directly, that required different technology. All he could do was circumvent their motherboard and keep his fingers crossed that someone would answer, and know what they hell to do with a remote call from Earth. He was in luck—one of the cadets from the University was on duty. It was their job to know.

A few moments later, Aton gruffly cleared his throat on the other end. He wasted no time in making his sentiments known. “Xzion, very good job with creating a method to contact us. It only furthers my disappointment in you, what a terrible waste. Regardless, you are no longer permitted to contact me nor anyone else here at Zarkstorm. You made your decision when you walked out the door and returned to Earth. I presume you are back in Baltimore...”

“Aton, I don’t have the time or desire to argue with you.” He leaned back in the chair, already exhausted and the conversation had just begun. “If you could put your pride aside just for one moment, and listen, I’d greatly appreciate it.” He chopped the air with his hand, making his points as if the man was standing before him.

“What is it, Xzion?” he asked in an uncaring tone. Predictable.

“I need one of the neonatal doctors on board to contact me right me away. I have a crisis situation.”

“And you asked to speak to me because? You know I’m not an authority on neonatal care. I find it quite odd that you’d need such information. This isn’t a governmental, military or social issue.”

“I knew if it got back to you that I contacted someone without your approval or knowledge, you’d stop future conversations so I wanted to speak to you
first
, to make you understand the situation.”

“I see.” Aton paused. “And what situation is so dire that you’d go through all of these efforts?”

“I am expecting a child soon. My mate is pregnant.”

Another pause, a much longer one.

“That’s impossible.” Aton finally said matter-of-factly, steel in his voice.

“No, apparently, it is
very
possible and we’ve verified the status.” Xzion took a deep breath. “Also, she was not with anyone else at the time of conception. She was under my care twenty-four hours of every single day.”

“It seems she was under
more
than just your care...”

Xzion ignored the barb. “So, as you can see, I need to talk to a professional about this, find out what our options are. Get informed.”

“And just why should I allow you to receive assistance, Xzion? You’ve single-handedly destroyed...”

“I got farther than anyone else and if you had encouraged me to finish the mission, instead of trying to make an example of me, embarrass me in front of my peers and family, I’d be done by now! Do you want to waste time continuing to punish me, make me suffer, or do you want to come to an agreement where we mutually benefit—because time is ticking, Zarkstormians are still dying and my mate is not getting any less pregnant!”

Xzion was so enraged, his heart pounded in his ears.

“I will forward the information.” The phone suddenly went dead. Aton had abruptly hung up, leaving Xzion confused and even more furious. Dumbfounded, he sat there for a while, listening to the static noise from the makeshift phone. He turned and glanced at the elegant black and white tuxedo, neatly presented on the bed with a pair of shiny silver cufflinks.

He relaxed in the chair and ran calloused hands down his face. After a few moments to gain his composure, he decided to pour his focus on Jayme’s evening, pushing the disturbing encounter temporarily behind him.

****

“And that is why this evening, we had to raise our glasses to Officer Knight for her heroic duties. We understand that some of the information is classified with the FBI, and the families of the agents that were horribly murdered while on the case are in our thoughts and prayers. We got wind of that this evening...” The air was laced with tension. “We planned this dinner for you, before that news hit but...we’re just glad you survived. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

Several of the police officers nodded and cheered as they stood in the dining hall, their glasses of non-alcoholic wine lifted high in the air. “Welcome back, Jayme!”