Hero (34 page)

"I just love it when you say things like that," he said with a sigh. "Makes me want to give you something to sink your fangs into."

Rolling over, he pushed himself up on his hands and knees and backed up to her

face. She obviously needed no further encouragement, and he let out a growl as her fangs penetrated his skin. The feel of her teeth pulling at his flesh tightened his balls and they threatened to ejaculate right then, but he managed to control his response somehow. After the initial bite, she moved over his butt, trailing kisses across his skin until she reached his balls. With a guttural growl, she sucked them into her mouth and pulled his dick back with her hand. He didn't know which felt best--her hand on his cock or her tongue on his nuts. Then there were the light touches on his penis and hard bites on his ass. She was driving him insane. He'd meant for it to be romantic, but she was right--that wasn't the way they were. They weren't romantics; they were more like animals. Sure, they could be soft and loving at times, but though this moment had begun on a gentler note, it was rapidly escalating into a sexual feast.

And she was feasting on him. Eating his meat and driving him wild. She pulled

his dick up and into her mouth and he began rocking back into her, fucking her hard and fast. He wanted to come in her mouth, coat her tongue with his snard and fill her with joy.

"Oh, yeah. Suck my dick, Mick." Chuckling softly, he added, "See, I'm the poet. I rhyme every time."

"Ha, ha," she scoffed. She may have stopped sucking him, but she was doing almost as good a job with her hands. "You're not a poet; you're a big, sexy beast that I can't get enough of. Besides, though I can't speak from experience, I'd be willing to bet that poets are highly overrated as lovers. I'd much rather have someone like you."

Trag nearly passed out from the shock. Great Mother of the Desert! She'd said it.

Lovers. Trag savored the word, just the sound of which had him about to come in her face. Biting his lip to regain control, he backed into her again, bumping his cockhead against her lips. "Guess you'll just have to stay with me until you get enough," he said.

"But what if I decide to go home?"

"I'm sorry if it sounds selfish, Mick, but I hope you never do."

Then suddenly it hit him. Home wasn't a place; it was a state of mind, and for

Trag, home was wherever Mick was, and not only that, it was inside her.

Spinning around as quickly as a cat, he seized her by the waist and flipped her

over onto her stomach. Pulling her hips up, he knelt behind her and drove his dick into her with wild abandon. Oh, yes, this was home--inside her, where it was soft and warm and delightfully carnal. Where he could fuck as hard as he wanted and plant his seed where it would grow.

And he hoped it would grow. He wanted to watch his babies make her belly swell

with life and then watch them grow up after they were born and then do it all over again.

What was it about her that brought out his paternal instincts so strongly? Sure, she was young and strong and healthy, but there was more to it than that. He'd met plenty of women who fit that description and he hadn't wanted to plant babies in them. It wasn't even just that she was Zetithian. What made her so different?

He loved her; that was the difference. Really, truly loved her. The fire in his loins
pushed him on. He wasn't just fucking her for the pleasure of it; he had a purpose now.

He pulled out and rolled her onto her back and plunged into her once more. Had there ever been a woman like her? Would there ever be again? Trag thought he knew the

answer to that and the answer was no.

His mind seemed to reach inside himself, and as it did, he pulled out a bit of his soul and passed it through to her, sending it on to where it would become new life and new love. Shuddering as his seed spewed forth into her waiting womb, he didn't have to have a vision the way Cat did; he knew she had conceived beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Even so, he wanted to see the joy in her eyes. "Look at me, Mick," he said, surprised at how different his own voice sounded to him--ragged and rough, as though he'd run a hard race and hadn't recovered yet.

She opened her eyes and Trag saw it all right there before him--the rest of his life with Mick. It was similar to what he'd seen before--trees and fields and children at play--

but now he knew it for what it was. There was no way to prove it other than the sense of complete truth he felt deep within his heart. If asked, he'd have sworn he'd never had a true vision before, but he was absolutely certain he was having one now. He saw young faces and old, all smiling and joyous, lined up before him and continuing on beyond his sight. Then he realized who he was seeing. They were his descendants, stretching out before him and on into infinity--and he was seeing them in her eyes.
Chapter 25

He was staring into her eyes as though he'd seen a ghost. "Trag?" Micayla whispered. "Are you okay?"

It was a long moment before he responded. "I--yeah, I'm okay," he said at last.

"At least I think I am. I just saw the most amazing thing..." His voice trailed off as he continued to gaze at her, dashing the sweat from his eyes and pulling the hair back from his face as though attempting to recapture the previous moment.

What she was seeing was quite amazing in and of itself; Trag's face suspended

above her own, his expression now soft and suffused with happiness and contentment.

She'd never seen him like that before, not in all the time they'd known each other. Trag had always seemed like such a restless spirit. What he'd said earlier about settling down had seemed out of character for him, but she could see it in his eyes now. The

commitment to her was very clear; if he said he would stay with her forever, then that was exactly what he would do.

A heartbeat later he was kissing her like he'd never kissed her before and she felt the shock of it all the way to her soul. He loved her--he might not have said it aloud but he didn't have to. Closing her eyes, she felt her mind expand as she floated higher, out past the confines of the small building and into the storm that continued to rage on while they were snug and warm inside. She was like a bird soaring over the countryside past rivers and farms and fields that lay fallow in their winter shroud. Then she saw it: the city of Rechred was laid out before her like a grid and her mind was centered on one spot, one person--one terrifying bit of humanity that was focused intently on her--as though they were standing face-to-face.

It was Grekkor, gazing up into the storm as though challenging the heavens to

stop him in his determination to see his vendetta through to the end. Terrifying because she knew where he was and also knew it would take all of them to stop him and put an end to the madness.

"I see it too," she said aloud. "We don't need those two Neriks to guide us. I know where he is."

The magnitude of their combined thoughts should have ignited even the dust

motes that drifted through the space between them, but nothing happened. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but then Trag shifted back onto his heels, leaving her momentarily bereft of his warmth and the strength of his passion. "That's not what I saw," he said flatly.

"So it wasn't a joint vision after all?" she said. "What did you see?"

Trag shook his head, sending his dark curls flying back over his shoulders.

"Nothing to do with Grekkor," he said, "though, on second thought, maybe it did. I think I just saw proof that he will not succeed in destroying us completely."

"That's comforting," Micayla said. "But to make your vision come true, we need to act on mine. I can get us to the city; I know exactly where he is."

"We'll head out as soon as it's light," Trag said.

"You don't understand," Micayla persisted. "We can go now. I can find him."
"In this weather?" Trag screeched. "I'll be damned if I let you go out now! It can wait until morning--for that matter, he can wait until morning. If you know where he is now, he won't get far."

She was beginning to feel desperate. "But I've got to go now!" she exclaimed, attempting to push him off of her. When he wouldn't budge, she took a deep breath and said calmly, "Really, Trag, we need to start right now. I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

"Never try to stop a Zetithian with a vision," Trag grumbled, relenting at last. "I liked my vision a whole helluva lot better."

"What was it exactly?"

"I'll tell you someday," he said. "Someday when we aren't about to walk blindly forth into a blizzard."

"We aren't blind," Micayla assured him. "Trust me. I won't get lost."

"You might not, but what about me?"

"I'll tie a rope around my waist and you can tie the other end around yours," she said. "That way we won't get separated. But really, Trag, we need to get dressed and get out of here."

"Aren't you sick anymore?"

"What? Oh, you mean the dizziness. Must have just been hungry. I'm fine now."

"You're also pregnant," he blurted out.

"What?" she said again. "I'm pregnant? Since when?"

"Since right now," he said. "That was part of my vision. Cat will confirm it eventually, but I'm sure I'm right about this."

"Odd that we'd have to get Cat's input rather than a doctor's," Micayla said dryly.

"Or Hidar's--at least, I guess he could do that."

Trag shrugged. "No idea, but Cat is one hundred percent reliable on this sort of thing."

"Too bad we can't ask him now," Micayla said briskly, "but there'll be plenty of time for that later on." Taking Trag's hand, she gave it a meaningful squeeze. "Trust me, Trag. We need to do this--whether I'm pregnant or not--and if I am, I'll be just as pregnant in daylight."

"I can't argue with that," said Trag. "Wish I could, though. Don't suppose your vision includes knowing whether we make it or not--no, wait, mine did that." His expression brightened as suddenly as the sun popping out from behind a dark cloud.

"Okay then. Let's get moving."

***

snow, it was still tough going. They marched on through the night, never seeing a single soul. If the two Neriks were coming back in the morning, she thought they might pass them along the way, but she hoped not. Trusting anyone on this strange world was

probably a mistake, especially two hired thugs that could just as easily have been hired by someone like Grekkor.

There wasn't much opportunity for conversation, which was just as well, for

Micayla already had a lot to think about. If Trag was right--and with the strength of her
own vision to use as an example she had no doubt that he was--she was going to have

triplets. And they were Trag's. Just the thought of having his children warmed her heart, but how soon? She didn't even know the length of the gestation period for Zetithians. It might be shorter or longer than that of humans and was yet another thing she needed to ask Jack about. She wished she could be more precise about Grekkor's location and therefore send Jack on ahead, but even though the Neriks had supposedly locked down Veluka's ship, they still couldn't get the comlinks to work.

"Must be the snow," Trag said, shouting over the howling wind.

"Could be," she said, "but I doubt it. I've never dealt with anything that wouldn't work at all because of the weather. I mean, it might be spotty or intermittent, but not totally dead."

Trag laughed. "Maybe the snow is different on Nerik; disrupts the signal or

something."

"It wouldn't surprise me if that was true, but it doesn't seem any different from the snow on Earth, and even my phone would work in snow. Back home there was no such

thing as being out of touch due to the weather unless there was a major catastrophe like a hurricane or a tornado."

If his expression was anything to go by, Trag had a different opinion. "Snow isn't a catastrophe, huh? It is to me! Never had anything like this on Darconia," he grumbled.

"Sandstorms, maybe, but not snow. Try the comstone again."

Micayla reached inside her parka to tap the bead on her necklace. She called out

Jack's name. "Nothing," she said. "Of course, if they landed in Rechred, they'd still be out of range."

"I'm almost afraid to ask this, but do you know how far it is from here?"

Micayla closed her eyes. She could still see the whole thing from a bird's-eye

view and could even judge the distance. "At least another half kilometer before we're in range. We should be passing through the outskirts of the city pretty soon."

"At least it's still dark," Trag said. "I hate to admit it, but going in under cover of night probably was the best bet. Just wish it wasn't snowing."

Micayla glanced up at the sky. The flakes were still falling in a thick, swirling haze but were getting smaller. "I think it's letting up a little."

"Really? How the devil can you tell?" Trag said. "I can't see a damn thing."

"I can," she said. "My night vision must be better than yours."

"Yeah, well, my nose isn't so hot either. Don't know why you'd put up with such a poor excuse for a Zetithian."

"I believe we've been over that," she said with a wry smile--which, of course, Trag probably couldn't see. As far as she was concerned, his nose and vision had nothing to do with how she felt about him. "You're a fine specimen--and you know it."

Trag chuckled softly. "Just making sure." He dropped an arm around her shoulder and they headed off into the snow.

As they reached the outskirts of the city, it had nearly stopped snowing and the

streets had already been cleared. They took in the deserted pavements and strange buildings dimly lit by lamps that seemed to hover high in the air.

"Guess everyone's got sense enough to stay inside on a night like this," Trag commented. "They must have one helluva street crew."

"No piles of snow anywhere either," Micayla observed. "They must not use
speeders here; otherwise they wouldn't have to clear the roads. We quit bothering with that on Earth ages ago when everyone switched over to speeders."