Burning Darkness (27 page)

He ran his fingers across her stomach, planting kisses on her hip bones, where her tattoos were, and belly button, flipping her ring back and forth, before moving down her leg. He bent her leg and ran his finger in that space behind her knees. She was so entranced by the feeling, she didn’t notice right away that she was exposed to him. She trusted that he wouldn’t go there until she was ready. He moved down her calf, both stroking and kissing his way around her ankle, and then her foot.

Oh, those kisses were so exquisite that, yes, they
were
painful. The Metric song played through her mind again.
Help, I’m alive.
Heart beating like a hammer, pulse like a runaway train
.
It
was
hard to be soft, tough to be tender.

He moved along the inside of her thighs, but before he got too close for comfort, he moved to her other leg. Her energy was pulsing everywhere, oh yes, there, too. When he’d lavished affection all the way down to her toes and back up again, he said, “Roll over.”

She took the opportunity to swipe her eyes as she rolled. She couldn’t take much more of this. He brushed her hair aside and nuzzled her neck and every inch of her back, stroking the base of her spine with his tongue, only lightly touching the curve of her bottom, and then moving down her leg. He flicked his tongue over the back of her knee in a way that must be like what he would do down there. Slow, soft, gentle.
Whoa.
She could feel it there, too, as though the energy had a directly line from one place to the other.

When he got to her other knee, she held her breath, wondering if it would feel the same. It did. Warmth spread over her. She hadn’t realized she’d spread her legs. Energy was swirling in her lower stomach, over her entire pubic area. When he moved up the back of her leg, she imagined him dipping between her legs this time . . . and the panic didn’t come. She was throbbing, and just the thought of it stepped up her breathing. He left one last kiss at the base of her spine.

She rolled over, curling her hands behind his neck and pulling his face to hers. “That was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced.”

He looked as caught up in the moment as she felt. “Want me to do it again?”

“I want you to go down on me. More than anything in the world, I want that. With you. Right now.”

He took her in, and he must have seen her sincerity because he kissed her, thoroughly, deeply, and then made his way down a curved path to her coarse hairs, which he nuzzled. Even that made her breath hitch, and when he went lower and touched the tip of her with his tongue, she nearly went over. He didn’t rush in, taking his ever-loving time, bringing her to the edge and then backing off, until finally he let her go.

She let out a long low moan, feeling free to do that because, hey,
he
was loud. He kept moving his tongue over her, making her body contort with the most intense feelings she’d ever had, and then she went again.

“No more,” she panted. “I can’t take any more.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to do my thing.”

“Oh, you did your thing, Eric. You definitely did your thing.”

When he pulled himself up to face her, she pushed him back on the bed and undressed him, then climbed on top of him. She liked this kind of impaling herself better. She moved in rhythm, and he braced her hips with his hands. Their gazes locked to each other’s as they moved. He moaned and groaned, and she let out a few of her own as her climax built and then exploded.

He still moved, the veins in his neck and arms prominent, and several long minutes later he finally came with a most delicious groan. The man enjoyed making love, no doubt about it. She couldn’t call it sex anymore, not with Eric. He hadn’t called it that either.

He rolled her to the side, sliding his hands into her hair, a sweet, satisfied smile on his face. “You were incredible.” He gave her a quick kiss, looking at her as though he might never let her go.

“We were incredible.” The panic fluttered in her stomach. She put her hand on his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, Eric.”

“What am I doing that’s making you say that? Because I saved you?”

“You risked your life and almost died, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me. But no, that’s not why I said that. I know it’s not. You saved my soul, Eric. My
soul
. What you said to me in the closet at Magnus’s, that you wouldn’t let me walk alone in my father’s neighborhood, pressing me to face my darkest shadows so I could slay them . . . I can because you’re beside me. It’s the way you touch my face when you kiss me, the way you loved on every inch of my body without any expectations of getting pleasure back. That’s what makes me want to run away screaming.”

His thumb scraped across her cheek. “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of feeling something that’s so foreign, so overwhelming. I’m afraid of loving you and then you letting me down when you realize I’m not what you want. Every man I’ve ever loved, or thought I loved, let me down.”

His gaze riveted hers. “I won’t ever let you down.”

“How can you say that? You don’t know what’s going to happen between us. You might get tired of me or—”

He pulled her close and kissed her. “I love you. That’s all I know right now. It’s enough.”

I love you.
Unmistakably clear this time. He wasn’t dreaming, and neither was she. The words pushed and pulled and tangled up inside her, but she couldn’t let herself believe them. “You said you’d never loved a woman before. How do you know?”

“I feel it down to my bones.” He bracketed her face, moving his close to hers. “Remember how you let go and let me go down on you? How that felt?” She nodded. “I want you to do that with your heart.”

She wanted to do that, too, but her fears were stronger. “If I let go, I’ll be needy. I’ll cling to you and I’ll want to hold onto you all the time and try to get you to say ‘I love you’ over and over so I’ll believe it, and I’ll be a pitiful mess. I didn’t realize it at the time but that’s how I was with Jerryl. I don’t ever want to be that way again.”

“You acted that way because deep down you knew he didn’t love you, and you didn’t love him either. But what if you had a man who let you hold onto him whenever you want, who’s always there to cling to, who says he loves you over and over without you having to try? You wouldn’t be needy because you wouldn’t need anything. You’ll have it. Here.” He pressed his fingers over her heart.

She took a deep shuddering breath. His phone made a strange ringing sound.

“I set the alarm, in case we lost track of time. We have to go.” He gave her a pointed look. “We will continue this conversation.”

He got up and started dressing. There was a lot going on between now and when they would be able to do that. She just hoped they survived it.

O
ddly enough, Eric pushing her to face the horrors of her near rape gave Fonda strength to face what was ahead. That didn’t stop the fear that pulsed through her, though, or the way her nerves burned. She looked at him, driving the truck, and her heart ached at the thought of going through another battle where he could get hurt. Or worse.

Don’t think about worse.

He was already so bruised and beat up. She loved him. So much her heart throbbed with it, that those words wanted to bound out of her mouth and fill the cab. Now wasn’t the right time, just like telling him they’d made love when they were locked in that room wasn’t exactly the greatest timing.
Duh.
Emotions were distracting; that’s what he’d said. He was right, because she was thinking about hers instead of what was ahead.

“Are we going to try the surprise tactic again?” she asked.

“That hasn’t exactly been working for us. I’ve been thinking about this. My friend Steve—the one who took me up in his plane—told me about this guy he knew who was inspecting the new paint job on his plane. He accidentally turned the propeller and started the engine. The prop sliced him up so bad, there was blood all the way up to the ceiling of the hangar. Neil can heal himself, right? A bullet wound, a cut, that kind of thing. But what if he were hacked into a thousand pieces?”

She grimaced at the mental picture. Oh, the gruesomeness. Neil deserved that, and more.

Eric’s face glowed with his idea. “In that condition, he wouldn’t be able to stop my abilities, and if he
does
begin to regenerate, I can torch him before he’s whole. It’s our only chance.”

“Then we do it.”

“If their plan is to spray the village today, I doubt he’ll be at the hangar tonight. That gives us plenty of time to get in and into position. I want you in the plane. Remember where he got the key from the last time? We’ll figure out how to start the plane, get ready. I don’t want him to know you’re there. I’ll engage him, get him near the prop, you start it, and I push him in.”

“I don’t like the engaging part or the being near the prop part. Not with what Neil can do.”

“It’s the only way.”

His face froze. He slammed on the brakes and swerved onto the shoulder of the road. “No, not again.” He looked over at her. “I’m hearing a man’s voice in my head.”

“It can’t be Jerryl.”

“Wait.” He closed his eyes, his expression tensed. “Not Jerryl.”

She relaxed a smidge. But who?

He opened his eyes a minute later. “Cheveyo. He can communicate psychically. He’s done it with Nicholas and my sister, but never with me.”

“What did he want?”

“He had a warning. He can see into the future, and he told me not to go to the Tomb, that we’ll die. He saw me and a woman—you—dead.” His mouth trembled. “He said he can’t get through to Petra anymore. Something’s happened to the shield he put over them.”

“Is this guy reliable? Trustworthy?”

“I don’t trust people as a rule, especially ones I haven’t met. But he put a shield over the Tomb to keep Darkwell from finding us. He saved Petra’s life when Jerryl tried to kill her, so I’d say he’s on our side. He knew Zoe was in trouble and saved her, too. I have to guess his visions are pretty accurate.”

Eric grabbed his phone and tried to call Amy, then Lucas, and down the list of Rogues. His face got paler with each unsuccessful call. “The calls all go right to voice mail.” He left a message on the last one pleading with them to call him. She scooted next to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was scared, and he wasn’t scared of much.

He looked past her. “I’ve got to get over there.”

“He said we’d die.”

“I didn’t say anything about you going.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. He didn’t say that your friends were going to die, did he?”

Eric shook his head.

“Then we stick to our plan. We have an opportunity to get to Neil because we know where he’ll be. We can’t help anyone if we die. If we can kill Neil, we can break our enemies down. Think of the children, all those innocent, peaceful people he’s going to infect. We take out Neil, then go to the Tomb, all right?”

He looked at her. “All right.”

“Do you think it was Cheveyo who was in your head before, telling you how close my body had to be to my soul?”

“No. He didn’t know who you were. He only described you.” He shuddered, and she knew he was imagining whatever he’d said. And wondering who else had been in his head.

They continued on until they reached the road near the airfield’s closed entrance. Eric parked a short distance past it. He turned to her, cupping her cheek with his hand. “Don’t do anything to put yourself in danger. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Ditto,” she said, her heart tight.

He kissed her long and hard, as though drawing strength for the hours ahead. She drew that strength back.

“Let’s go.”

Amy came out of the computer room after having checked the video surveillance. “I don’t see the officers outside anymore.”

The others looked hopeful, but Petra didn’t see it that way. Not because she was a pessimistic, overly dramatic person . . . okay, she was, but it was Cheveyo’s warning, and the fact that he’d suddenly disappeared, that squashed any hope.

Lucas said, “Let’s get out of here. I say we split up, some of us take the entrance into the gallery and some go outside through the shed. We meet in the garage and get the hell out of here. Head to the docks tonight if we get split up.”

Amy dashed down the hall. “I’ve got to put Orn’ry in a safe place and leave him with plenty of food and water.”

“I’ll help,” Lucas said. A minute later they were carrying the bird cage, with the obnoxious cockatoo inside, into the room behind the kitchen.

“It’s too dangerous to go out there,” Petra said, panic clawing up her throat. “What if they’re just hiding?”

“We can’t stay here anymore. If what Cheveyo saw comes true, this is where we die. So we get out there and take our chances.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’m going with you and Amy.”

Amy joined them a few seconds later. They all grabbed their cell phones and went in two different directions. Petra followed Lucas and Amy into their bedroom, where the gallery entrance came in. He grabbed at the handle and pulled. It wouldn’t budge. The door was solid metal, to keep out desperate and infected citizens who might have found out about the shelter when the big bomb went off.

“It won’t open.” He jerked and tugged.

“Let’s go with the others, then,” Amy said.

They started toward the door and stopped when they saw the rest of the group coming their way. “The door is jammed,” Nicholas said.

Petra put her hand to her throat. “They’ve trapped us down here! They’re going to come in and kill us!”

Lucas’s expression grew grim. “Not without a fight. They don’t know what we have down here. Everyone grabs a gun and watches the entrances. As soon as the door opens, start shooting. Make sure it’s not Eric, first, though.”

They remained in their groups and got into positions, facing the doors to wait. For death. For destruction. For the end.

Malcolm Bishop had pulled the officers out of the area the night before. He could only tie up resources for so long without any proof that there was a threat to the President lurking around the premises. Besides, he didn’t want any witnesses or questions when he took care of things.

It wasn’t easy to get away from those sworn to protect him. He’d told his Secret Service agents he had personal business to attend to in downtown Annapolis, an early morning meeting with an attorney. The advanced team was already in place. Two agents were posted outside the conference room, where he was now alone, ostensibly going over documents in private. More agents were posted by the motorcade at the curb.

He set an illusion in place so the agents, or anyone else, wouldn’t see him exit the room and go out the back door. He walked two buildings over to where the art gallery—now closed—was located. He walked along the back, to the small porch, and laid out the blueprints on a small table. Everything was in place. Doors sealed. Psychic shield disrupted and his own shield put in place. One more thing to do and then it would be finished, no one wiser.

The hangar looked deserted, closed up tight. Eric and Fonda walked around it, finding a couple of windows on the side that looked into a small office.

“No sign of him,” she said, peering in.

Eric took off his shirt, wrapped it around his hand, and smashed the glass. He broke out the shards. “Climb in and open the whole window from the inside.”

Yeah, no way was he fitting into that small space. She supposed he could have broken out the middle pane, too, but that would look more obvious.

He hoisted her up, and she climbed through and stepped onto the desk below the window. With a dusty magazine that was dated three years earlier, she swept the glass off the desk. She twisted the clasp and slid the window up, then helped him climb in.

“If he comes in here, he’ll know something’s up,” she said. “But it doesn’t look like he uses this office much.”

Eric walked out the door and closed it, looking in through the hazy pane of glass in the door and opened it again. “You can see a slight difference between the clearness of the opening and the grimy glass, but through this window it’s not as obvious. We’ll be okay if he just glances over. Not so much if he takes a close look.”

He walked to the tool chest and took the key out of the third drawer. The side door on the plane was open. There were blocks in front of the wheels.

She looked at the propeller as they passed it, at the edges that looked so sharp. “I don’t like this plan.”

“Don’t look when it happens; you’ll never get the image out of your head.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. If he throws you at the running prop, even if I freeze time, I’ll be in the plane and you’ll be out there. I doubt I’ll have enough time to run down and push you to the floor.”

“I’ll be ready for him.”

They both climbed in. The canisters weren’t in place. Nothing looked ready.

“What if he changed the plan?”

“We give him through the morning, then decide what to do if he doesn’t show.” He turned to her, his expression stern. “If something happens to me, I don’t want you feeling guilty because you couldn’t stop it. Okay? And I want you out of here. He can’t hurt you if he can’t see you. Stay out of his sight.”

She put her hand on his arm. “I don’t want to think about that.” It was like those moments when he was burning up all over again, the thought of losing him. “Don’t leave me, Eric,” she said, just as she had then. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He touched her cheek. “You won’t.”

He couldn’t be sure of that. They were empty words of reassurance. And they didn’t make her feel one iota better.

“Come here, let me show you what to do, if I can remember it.” He sat in the pilot’s seat. “First you have to push this mixture knob, this red one, all the way forward, to Rich, so the gas gets to the engine.” He put the key in a switch marked Mags. “Turn the key past Left and Right to Both. Push hard to get past the spring to Start. It’ll start and snap back to Both. Try it.”

She went through the steps, and the engine started.

“Pull the red lever back to cut the engine.”

She did it, and the engine went quiet.

He sat down on the floor of the cargo area and pulled her onto his lap. “It’s been a few years, but I was curious about how things worked when Steve took me up. I was all jazzed about getting my pilot’s license, maybe even becoming an instructor. Then Steve got transferred to California, and I never followed through on it. You’re lucky you have something you love to do. I haven’t figured that out yet.”

She leaned into him. “What have you been doing up till now? Besides arm wrestling for money,” she added with a smile.

“A lot of nothing. I was a bouncer, a repo dude, jobs that used muscle.” He looked around the plane. “Being inside the cabin again makes me want to go back to my earlier goal.”

She turned to look at him. “I can tell it’s something you have a passion for. That’s what life is all about, you know. Finding your passion. Living it.” She liked talking about the future. Believing they had one.

He leaned back, taking her with him, keeping her in his arms. She rested her head on his chest and dozed. She dreamed of planes, of Eric as a captain of a charter plane service, of a normal life . . . together.

The sound of metal against metal woke them. They sprang to a sitting position. Fonda crept to the cockpit, and Eric slipped to the floor and hid around the back of some cabinets.

The hangar door opened, but from the sound of it, only partially. Then it closed again. It was eight in the morning. Neil’s voice echoed against the metal walls. “I know you’re in here. I can smell your apprehension, your fear for each other’s safety.” He made sniffing sounds and then let out a satisfied sigh.

Fonda peered from the bottom edge of the window. She could barely see him. She reached for the red lever and then clenched the key with her fingers.