Jump Zone: Cleo Falls (9 page)

Thirteen

T
he sky remained starry and cloudless, but Trevayne could feel a storm coming, deep in the marrow of his bones. He steadied himself on the low ceiling of the boat’s cabin as choppy waves slapped the hull, and used the toe of his boot to awaken the bunch of sorry slugs that made up his mobile unit.

He considered contacting Cade, but the old man would want answers he didn’t have.

“Our boy has been compromised,” the Colonel said, once he had their attention. He flipped his satcom in the air, the green line of text flashing in the dark bunker. Three UNAUTHORIZED BIORHYTHM messages meant someone other than the pup was tampering with the device.

“Savages probably got him,” one of his men grumbled.

Trevayne’s lips peeled back across his teeth in anticipation. Finally, some action. “Suit up, pussies. We’re going flower picking.”

Fourteen

H
e was Orion, standing atop Mount Olympus. He pushed his broad, star-tipped shoulders back, adjusted the sword sheathed at his belt, and took chase after the elusive Goddess of Light. He had to catch her, and though he didn’t know why, he felt an urgency about it, as if his life hinged upon her capture.

Made entirely out of the golden pink clouds, the goddess flitted in and out of his vision. When he finally caught up to her, he buried himself in her vaporous wisps and inhaled deeply. The fresh scent of heaven filled his nose, his lungs, his soul. He wanted to stay wrapped in the goddess’s entrancement forever…but he had an annoying tickle deep within his sinuses. Water filled his eyes and he blinked away a sneeze.

The morning light filtered through Libra’s dream-lust haze, bringing him fully awake. With it came the realization that his body spooned Cleo’s in a most intimate fashion. His face was buried in the silky tangle of her hair, and his arm was snugly wrapped around her midsection. Hers was on top, as if holding his limb in place.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Libra’s fingers rested against her breast, separated from her flesh only by the soft leather of her halter. His thumb lay on the bare skin at the curve of her cleavage and her pendant draped over the back of his hand, trapping him. The stone felt uncomfortably hot against his skin, burning him for his transgression.

That still wasn’t the worst part.

Cleo’s bottom was snuggled tightly against his rock-solid erection. The minutes that followed Libra into full wakefulness turned into a disturbing combination of discomfort and desire. Hell on earth.

He managed to breathe through the worst of it and was preparing to move when Cleo’s derriere wriggled against him. Libra swallowed a gasp. It took every ounce of willpower to still his hips, fight the urge to grind. Sweat erupted on his brow as he concentrated on lying still. The pain was physical: sharp and urgent. It hurt to want something so bad.
So zhanging bad
.

How would she react if he slipped his fingers under the leather and rolled a delicate nipple between his fingers? Would she fight him, or give in? She couldn’t deny that something hot and alive zinged between them when their eyes met. Last night, around the fire, their connection had gotten so intimate that simply looking at each other was practically fucking.

His thumb twitched, the tiniest movement against the skin of her breast, but it was enough to send another jolt of need straight to his groin.

This is wrong
.

She was his prisoner, not his lover. He tried to dislike her, distrust her, but she was making his task very difficult. Zhang hell, it didn’t help that she was beautiful, vulnerable, and so fucking hot. He should have used the ampoule.

In her sleep, Cleo released a breathy, contended sigh. The simple act of her lungs filling with air pushed her chest against his palm. Libra closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The ache was exquisitely unbearable.

It would be so easy to nuzzle her neck, caress her, knead her warm flesh. She would murmur
mmm, don’t stop
, urge him to untie the laces of her pants so he could slip his fingers into her sweet slick folds, make her—

“You awake?” she whispered.

Whoa, awkward.

“Hmm? What?” He pretended to rouse.

“Must have gotten cold during the night,” she said without turning round.

Trying carefully not to grope her in the process, Libra pulled his arm from around her middle and pulled his hips back, breaking all physical contact. It was like being doused by a bucket of cold water.
No, go back
, his body screamed, but he kept rolling until he lay flat on his back.

“Yeah, must have,” he said, his voice sounding as if he’d swallowed a handful of rocks. He lifted his head, tried to sit up, but the sight of the blanket propped up like a tent over his groin had him quickly rolling onto his other side.

Worse than zhanging grade school!

They’d followed a path that ran parallel to the river for six hours, mostly in comfortable silence, when her companion asked, “Are we stopping for lunch anytime soon?”

She spared him a brief glance over her shoulder before looking up at the sun, now at its apex in the blue, cloudless sky.

Cleo smiled to herself and pushed on. He wasn’t having any trouble keeping up—an unexpected but very pleasant surprise. She didn’t think her urbanite had the stamina to follow, but he seemed as determined to prove himself as she was.

“Why? Need a break?”

She’d lost valuable time already, and the need to get to Jaegar as quickly as possible chased her like a pack of rabid wolves.

But there was something else driving her at such a frenetic pace.

Cleo stole another glance back at Libra. His shirt was soaked with sweat, the side of his face smeared with dirt from the back of the arm that he’d been using to wipe the moisture from his face, and his hair was plastered against his skull. He was clearly pushed to maximum output yet, like always, Cleo felt the need to outperform, be the fastest, the most capable, the last one standing. Even with an injured leg, she couldn’t let herself stop first, wouldn’t be the first to suggest she needed a rest.

She wasn’t trying to provoke the city dweller into declaring defeat, she just simply didn’t know how to turn off her competitive spirit. Cleo thrived on being first at everything, at winning
everything.

The very thought made her stop cold.

But it was this misplaced sense of competitiveness that ruined Jaegar.

As guilt snuffed the fire in her heels, she slowed. “There’s a good spot to stop just ahead,” she said as Libra closed the few feet between them. “Can you manage a bit more? I can take the backpack for awhile if you’d like.”

He narrowed his eyes and gave her a slow half-smile. “Darlin’, I can do another twelve hours if you give me a second to replenish my liquid.” He held up his canteen and shook it, letting the few remaining droplets splash hollowly against the sides. He’d misread her concern for mockery, but before she could defend herself, he asked, “And how is it you’re not drinking? You part camel?”

“Used to it, I guess,” she said with a shrug and turned before he saw her smug grin.

Libra didn’t mind the hike so much so long as he got to stay in the rear and watch her. This Taiga gal sure had stamina, he’d give her that. Her limp had vanished and her stride would have impressed the shit out of Taurus, who did everything in high speed.

T, his best friend and partner in crime, had no idea where he was. Didn’t even know Libra was out of prison, let alone on a mission. He’d be all shades of green if he knew, too. That guy had been a Taiga lover for as long as he could remember.

But he didn’t have time to think of Taurus or his bull-sized envy. Not now, not when he had the back end of Cleo to admire. She trekked on until they came to a shallow creek that branched from the main river. The crystal clear water, barely a foot deep, meandered over smooth stones and pebbles. She tilted her chin skyward, one hand over her eyes to shield the glare of the sun. She did that a lot, almost as unconsciously as she held her pendant. He looked up, too, didn’t see anything but a few wispy clouds and blue sky, but before he could ask what was so interesting up there, she did a twirl and declared the spot
perfect.

“Perfect for what?” he asked, squatting to fill his canteen.

“Fishing.”

“Fish? Why? I’ve got food.”

“Nooo,” she said, pressing her lips together and shaking her head. “You have chemicals pretending to be food.” She picked up a few large stones from the banks and stacked them in a pile at the bottom of the creek. “I’ve had enough of that nasty stuff.”

“Hey, stop knocking my Nutripacks. We’d be starving right now if we had to rely on those useless snares,” Libra said. “And in case you haven’t noticed, Princess, we left our fishing tackle back at the castle.”

“They weren’t useless snares. You just didn’t set them properly,” she said, building up the rocks until she’d made a dam in the middle of the stream. “And we don’t need rods. Nature hath provided.”

“NutriCorp hath provided this NutriBeef, complete with all the protein found in real beef.” He glanced down at the label. “And six other essential vitamins…which they don’t actually name.”

“And that brook trout swimming behind me has six times as much protein as beef, real or simulated,” she said, tossing her head in the direction of the fish.

“And you’re going to catch it with what? Your bare hands?”

“Watch and learn,” she said, heading upstream, careful that her shadow didn’t fall across the water.

“I’m too hungry to wait for you to tame nature, so if you don’t mind, I’ll stick to my NutriBeef.”

“Fine. You start a fire, but I can guarantee you that I’ll have this fish caught, cooked, and eaten in less time than it will take for you to boil water and choke down yours.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” he said.

“Well, let’s call it one,” she said, a smile creeping across her face.

A few feet beyond the oblivious trout, she built another rock dam, corralling the speckled fish into a tight pen. She picked up a few sticks, examined the ends, and chose the pointiest one, the corners of her mouth turned up like she was harboring a secret.

He watched her spear that zhanging fish, watched her clean it with his zhanging knife, watched her set the zhang damn fillets on a flat rock in the middle of the flames, all before he’d poured boiling water on his dehydrated beef.

“I’m first!” she declared when she nudged the opaque fish with the tip of his knife.

He made a face at the simmering bubbles clinging to the edges of his pot. If the water from the stream hadn’t been so damn cold to begin with, he might have had a chance. “I refuse to concede.”

“On what grounds?”

“On the fact that thing was alive, probably swimming back to his poor waiting family, moments ago. How in hell can you eat that disgusting creature?”

With a waggle of her eyebrows, Cleo popped it into her mouth. “De-licious. You have no idea what you’re missing.”

“Barbarian.”

“Hypocrite.”

“How am I a hypocrite?”

“How many NutriCows did they kill to put in that biodegradable package? Just because you didn’t meet the cow first doesn’t mean it didn’t go into the final product.”

“I…uh…don’t think there’s real animal meat in this,” Libra said, sticking his utensil into the semi-moistened patty and holding it up for examination. He made a face, as if seeing the unappetizing texture for the first time. “Just…simulated.”

“I will take that as your concession speech.” Cleo said, slipping another hunk of the flaky fillet into her mouth.

During lunch, which he continued to choke down but with considerably less gusto than he had during previous meals, Cleo announced a change of route. “We need to head south for a bit, find the next rock line that’ll take us to the Cut Road.”

“What’s a rock line?” Libra asked, licking his fingers. He looked up, hoping she’d explain but was given a look normally reserved for the stupidest beasts.

“The big rivers of rocks that you solar scooted over to get up this far?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, bringing the canteen up to his lying lips. Of course he hadn’t seen them. The plane was flying at such a high altitude that he saw nothing but a few clouds out the cockpit window of the otherwise windowless aircraft. “I was wondering what those were.”

Libra had led a relatively guilt-free life of crime back in Gomeda. Redistributing the wealth had never particularly bothered him, so why he had an attack of the consciences when it came to misleading Cleo, he couldn’t understand. She was nothing to him, less than nothing. Yet his lies left his mouth with a bitter tang. “I uh, didn’t realize they had a name. What’s the story?”

“You don’t know?”

Libra shook his head. “Why would I?”

The corners of Cleo’s mouth turned down. “I thought everyone learned about it in history.”

“Not in Gomeda.”

“They don’t teach you about the President Zhang and the Polar Wars?”

“Only that we won.”

“That’s not true.
Nobody
won.”

Libra bit his tongue. Arguing politics likely wouldn’t make this mission easier.

“The army blew up half the Taiga back then. They blasted through this entire region so they could bring their equipment north. Afterward, all that was left were wide swathes of nothingness running up and down, leaving an ugly looking grid of transport channels, and the survivalists who resettled here decided to fill them all in. First, they pushed in all the debris; all the garbage the war left behind from vehicles to the rubble of destruction. Then they used the rocks, sand, and boulders from the blast sites to literally bury the detritus of war. It took them many generations to complete.”

“Why didn’t they just keep them as roads? Or why not let nature reclaim the land. Eventually, all those damaged areas would’ve just grown back in, right?”

“Two reasons. They wanted to discourage the mass movement of anything. Especially people. We don’t need roads up here. You can see that the Taiga is one big crisscross of trails and paths for foot travel, many wide enough for a horse team and wagons, solar scooters, and sleds, so logistically, inter-tribal travel isn’t an issue.”