Immortally Embraced (12 page)

Marc and I bounced until we were dizzy and then hung out on the air-mattress bottom and talked about the future—how we wanted a house in the Garden District, four kids, and a black Lab who would eat his mother’s broccoli casserole.

When the kids wanted their place back, we’d snuck off and made love in a field with flowers and a small stream. It was a gorgeous fall day with a slight breeze.

My heart clenched.

Despite my better judgment, I looked up at him. His face mirrored what I felt, bittersweet longing and regret.

I swallowed hard. “I thought you were trying to forget,” I said.

He gazed at me for a long moment. “I am.”

Then he lowered his mouth for a sweet, sensuous kiss that reminded me of grass fields and wildflowers and all of the things I’d tried so desperately to leave behind.

My body heated. I wasn’t sure if it was from anticipation or stark white fear. Probably a bit of both. “It’s too soon,” I murmured, my breath mingling with his.

“No, it’s not.” His lips brushed mine. He looked down at me, so tender. “I know you just lost somebody.” His fingers caressed the nape of my neck. “I don’t care if you use me for a while.”

“I do.”

His teeth grazed my earlobe. He found the small, sensitive hollow of my back that only he knew about. “Just let me love you.”

I could barely put a thought together as he drew me to him for a mind-numbingly erotic kiss. It was sweet and heady and sensual all at the same time. I savored it. Him. I rubbed against him, needing to be closer, needing to feel him one last time.

After this, I could leave. Even if I could never see him again, I’d know he was here.

God. It was so unfair.

There was no mercy in this war. No second chances.

But we could be together now. It would have to be enough.

He consumed me like a man starved. I had to get closer, craved him like air. Marc ran his tongue down my neck as I straddled him. He hissed as I rubbed my core flush against his hardness.

God, I remembered this.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and we both watched me caress his cock. He let out a hiss as I snaked up and down over the quaking, straining length of him. If we’d been naked, it would have been so easy to slip him inside of me.

How many times had I ridden this man? Felt him stretch me tight as I worked him over and over again.

He rolled me over onto my back, stripping off my scrub top. He feasted on my breasts, laving and sucking them until I was half out of my mind.

His body rubbed against mine, tight and hungry.

I shoved my hands under his flak jacket and over the muscles flexing on his back. This was stupid. I swore I wouldn’t do this again.

“I want you naked,” he gasped, “now.”

“Marc,” I groaned as his warm exhale brushed my ultra-sensitive nipple.

He had to stop doing that.

“Don’t think,” he said. His short blond hair prickled against my skin. “Just be with me.”

He made it sound so simple.

This war was horrific. It beat us and bled us and made us question our very humanity.

It kept us from the people we loved.

I could take that. I could live with it. I couldn’t live through this again.

He slammed his eyes closed. “Let it be beautiful,” he whispered as he panted against me, scarred, hurt, and breathtaking.

He forced his eyes open, and the raw pain I saw was both startling and humbling.

But he’d known about me for weeks. He’d had time to think about this. I drew myself up on my elbows. I understood on a gut level that this could never, this
would
never work. My voice was unsteady, but my words were certain. “We can’t see each other again. Not after tonight.”

He nodded, caressing my cheek. “Then let’s have tonight.”

His mouth crashed down on mine and I knew without a doubt I wanted him. I wanted this.

He was naked before I knew it. With bittersweet anticipation, I shoved him to his knees, our gazes locked as I shimmied out of my uniform and underwear.

“Thank you,” I said at the look of wonder and sheer rapture on his face. How could I have forgotten the way this man looked at me?

We came together, on our knees before each other, kissing and licking and caressing every inch we could reach. He was so eager, so sensual. I felt like a goddess as he eased me up and over his straining cock.

We paused, our foreheads touching, and I saw that he was shaking.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” he said, chest heaving. “I want this to be good.”

I kissed his cheek, drawing my hands down his back, humbled that this sweet, gorgeous rock of a man would even have to wonder. “It will be amazing,” I said against his sweat-warmed skin, “it’s you.”

He gave me an uneasy smile, so full of … what? Hope? We both groaned as he slid deep inside me.

I buried my forehead in the crook of his neck. “Love me, Marc.”

“Oh God, Petra. I never stopped.”

I clung to him as he moved inside me, the heady, raw friction sending my pulse racing. I dug my knees into the bed as he drove harder, our bodies slick with sweat as I held on to his shoulders, shoved down on his cock.

This was my moment, my time with Marc. Everything else may have been decided for us—where we lived, whom we fought for, whom we were allowed to love—but we could decide this: to be together in this moment.

I cried out as the pleasure spiraled higher. The urgency built. He clutched my hips and his thrusts took on a desperate edge. I met his every push, wanting it, needing it.

“Jesus, Petra.”

I shoved him down onto the bed. He rolled right back over, braced on his elbows on top of me.

“Not this time.” He grinned, straining, his face inches from mine.

He shoved his cock hard inside me and I whimpered. He felt amazing. “Yes. Right there.”

He found the sweet spot, working me, pushing me, loving me hard until I came to pieces around him.

With a harsh cry, he followed. And for one blessed, white-hot moment, we were at peace.

chapter ten

It was full dark when I woke, snuggled next to Marc. I stretched my legs, entwined with his under the afghan. It was almost easy to forget where we were—when we were. I’d give anything for the last ten years to be one long, bloody, awful dream.

I burrowed in tighter. How many times had we lain just like this back at my little bungalow on Camp Street?

My stomach clenched. God, I was an idiot. He’d crushed me when he left for the war. It had almost killed me when word came that he was dead. I closed my eyes, hypersensitive to the feel of his chest under my cheek, his arm around me. It had taken years to get over this man. And now I was signing up for it again.

This time, I had no hope. I knew we could never be together.

Beyond this brief oasis, the menace of the limbo desert hung like the blade of a guillotine.

This wasn’t New Orleans and Marc wasn’t my soon-to-be fiancé. We were five klicks off a hell vent. I was in enemy territory, taking a stupid crazy risk just so that I could stick my neck out even farther and confront a murdered soul.

And I was making love to a man I’d never see again.

His arm tightened around me. “You okay?” he asked, sleepy.

“No,” I said, sitting up. I was sick with it. “This was a mistake.”

“Hey,” he said, bracing himself on an elbow, his hair tousled. “We had one more chance. We made the most of it.”

My heart shrank into my stomach. “You’re not affected in the least.” I felt like my guts had been ripped out while he’d had a nice time. “Am I the only one torn up about this?”

Now I got a reaction out of him. Confusion. “We both understood,” he said, as if I were the one causing the problem.

He reached out to touch me and I scooted out of the way. I couldn’t believe he could be so casual about this. “Yes, I understand plenty,” I said, taking the comforter with me. I saw it clearly for the first time. I was raw with it. “You were never the one who had trouble leaving.”

Before he could respond, the hutch door rattled.

“Stay there,” Marc said, launching himself out of bed as the chair that was still halfway blocking the threshold pitched forward and fell.

My heart skipped a beat as the door crashed open and a looming shadow filled the entryway. “What is this?”

“A rude awakening,” Marc said, moving to block the intruder. Moonlight filtered in behind the hulking form.

I brought my hand to my chest as Marc lit the lantern. It was Oghul. If I’d been any more relieved, I would have hugged the hairy battering ram.

The door smacked closed behind him as he strolled into the tent. “Stop the sex,” he frowned, firelight playing off the individual plates on his chest armor.

“Good advice,” I said, spotting my bra on the lamp shade. “I wish I’d have thought of that earlier.”

Marc gave me a narrow-eyed look.

A little too late, I tried to cover up with the afghan, but the fricking thing had about a million holes. I focused on the berserker. “I know you’re used to seeing Marc naked,” I said, recalling the limbo wastelands, “but you need to wait outside while I get dressed.”

Oghul didn’t even blink. “It is time,” he said, as if that were the only thing that mattered. “And the soldiers. They are talking about what is going on in here.”

Marc nodded. “We’ll have her out of here in a minute. Go.”

Oghul’s expression clouded. “There will be talk of me outside your tent. I do not blend well.”

I found a pillow to shove in front of my afghan. He wasn’t staying in here.

“Act natural,” Marc said, leading him the rest of the way.

The Mongol looked a bit like a scared puppy as Marc slammed the door on him.

“Act natural?” I asked, scrambling off the bed. “A berserker?”

“He knows his limits better than you’d think,” Marc said, yanking open the bottom drawer of his dresser. “Unlike the rest of us,” he added under his breath.

“It’s a mistake I’m not going to make again,” I said, trying to figure out just what had happened to my clothes.

Pissed I could do. I reveled in it. Anger was about the only thing that kept me from cracking wide open.

He shot me a hard stare as he pulled out a clean uniform. “It did mean something to me.”

Um-hum. “I can tell you’re all torn up,” I said. “Where’d you fling my underwear?”

“Here,” he said, pulling my panties from the tent supports above the bed.

Oh, well, naturally.

Shirt tucked under his arm, he drew his pants on and buttoned them. “I’m just better at compartmentalizing.”

Yeah? Compartmentalize this
. I made sure to catch his eye as I slipped on my red panties. His uniform shirt fell to the floor unnoticed and I could swear his gaze threw sparks as I drew the lacy underwear over my hips. “Sorry. I didn’t realize we were holding back.”

“You were never this bold before,” he said, his voice strained.

“Do you like it?” I asked, standing before him in nothing but my lacy red bottoms.

He drank me in like a man dying of thirst. “Yes.”

“Too bad,” I said, turning my back as I rescued my bra from the lamp shade, giving him a great view of my ass. “I’m leaving tonight.”

Oghul gave the door three swift knocks. “You come now.”

Then, as if he hadn’t made his point quite clear enough, he kept pounding until a thin crack formed down the middle.

“I don’t think he’s kidding,” I said, located my uniform pants and jacket behind the bed.

Marc tugged on his shirt and began tying his boots. “This isn’t over,” he said, glaring at me.

“Okay, sure.” I said, flip. “Maybe you can take me out to dinner sometime.” I tapped my finger against my chin. “Oh wait…”

He finished tying his boots, grabbed his jacket, and banged out of the tent.

Not my fault if he couldn’t face the music.

I was still down a T-shirt and a boot. I got down on my hands and knees and located both under the bed. Then I quickly finished dressing. I should have been embarrassed to have fallen into bed so easy, and in an enemy camp no less.

Never again.

Next to the desk, I found the duffel I’d brought.

Rodger and I had packed a flashlight and extra batteries. I stuffed them into my pant pocket. That left the other pocket for Marius’s tricked-out silver-and-bronze snub-nosed pistol. I studied the exotic spiderweb-looking knob on the side. He’d called it an energy disruptor. I cranked it all the way up and slipped it into my pocket.

There was no telling what we’d find in the underground labs.

I left the rest of it behind.

It was a dark, starless night. The torches had been lit on either side of the path.

The air was chilly. Oghul and Marc were in a heated discussion in the shadows between the tents. They spoke in low, urgent tones.

When Oghul saw me, he straightened. “It must be tonight,” he said to both of us.

“I know that,” Marc said, scowling. “Let’s go.” He wrapped an arm around me as we headed for the main part of camp.

I shook him off.

“Are you pissed at me or the situation?” he asked.

I didn’t want to talk about it. There was nothing left to say.

“I’m glad you’re being mature about this,” he said to my back.

Despite my best efforts, he insisted on walking next to me. Jerk.

“I had Oghul do some advance work for us,” he said, as if he were the one who’d been wronged. “It seems the emergency exit, which never has a guard, now has three.”

“Lovely.” This was so screwed up. “Do they know we’re coming?”

“I don’t know,” Marc said. It was plain that he was worried. “It may be new since the murder. It may be that they’re watching us.”

My heart sped up.

Nights in the desert were cool, but nevertheless, I was beginning to sweat. The torches lining the path cast eerie shadows.

It would be easy for old army security forces to hide in the darkness and watch. I could be caught and executed as a spy before I even had a chance to snoop. “What are we going to do?”

He kept his eyes on the path ahead of us. “We have a backup plan to bypass the guards.”

“Something you’ve done before?” I asked.