Night Betrayed (18 page)

Before she could reply, he had her bra undone and eased it down along her arms, leaving her breasts bare in the warm sun that shone through the window. Then he gathered her back up against him, torso to torso . . . her curves pressing up against his solid muscle, warm skin to warm skin, the tenderness from her ganga marks hardly noticeable. His arm locked around her back as he played with her mouth, his lips sliding over hers, fitting them sweetly together and then exploring with his tongue.

She kissed him back, closing her eyes when the heat flooded her, their long kiss turning sleek and languorous.

Theo directed them smoothly to her bed, which she’d actually made this afternoon in anticipation of the possibility of messing it up tonight. It wasn’t quite as inviting as Vonnie’s, with all the pillows and the thick blankets—

And then she stopped thinking about anything but the large, warm hands covering her bare breasts as she settled back down onto the bed. He had found her nipples, which now hardened into sensitive little tips, and he used his thumb to brush over one of them—back and forth, back and forth and around and around, until those little shooting pleasure-darts became long, strong tugs down deep below her belly . . . where she was already swelling and throbbing, waiting for him.

Theo was on the bed next to her, one hand trailing over her breast, the other propping him up on the mattress next to her as he bent to kiss along her chin and jaw, and over to the side of her neck.

“You’ve got a hell of a body,” he said, low and rough into her ear. “I can’t wait to see all of it.”

His hand left her breast and eased down over her belly, down beneath the waist of her jeans and to where his fingers threaded gently into the sensitive hair there. Gently, he made little circles with his fingers, tight beneath her panties, and let their very tips skim over the top of her labia . . . teasing, promising, making her shift her hips in a little impatient jiggle. Yesss.

Her eyes closed, and when she felt his warm, moist lips close over her breast, Selena jerked and gave a soft little cry. He chuckled, warm and close, over her nipple, then drew it long and hard into his mouth, sending another battery of those shooting pleasure-darts to her belly and below.

Suddenly, his fingers slipped lower, down into where she was hot and wet, finding her pulsing little core. She stiffened, jolted at the sudden surprise slides . . . and then with one little stroke, like the flick of a switch, his magic fingers set her shuddering and exploding into a big, hot orgasm.

“Oh,” she managed when she caught her breath, still feeling the delicious little heat licks spreading through her thighs and belly. Selena smiled as he shifted to kiss her, feeling better than she had in forever.

“The best is yet to come,” he murmured, as if reading her mind.

“I’m counting on it,” she replied, and, still loose and tingly, reached for the button of his shorts.

He wasn’t shy about helping her; and in moments, she had her hands full of a very happy, very hot and thick Theo. He let his head rest back and his eyes close as she gave him a few strokes for good measure, slow and easy . . . and then tight and fast, tighter and faster, until his lips flattened to white and she felt his body gather up, ready to go over. And then, she eased up, slowing and watching the change on his face.

His eyes popped open, his expression filled with chagrin. “That was almost too easy,” he said in a tight voice. He covered her hand with his, slowing her lazy strokes even further.

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” she asked, leaning over to kiss him with a deep thrust of tongue.

“How about we get on the same playing field, so to speak?” Theo said, removing her hand from where she still grasped him, and getting down to business with her jeans.

Selena didn’t have time to worry about stretch marks or the wobbliness of her thighs, because he was fast and smooth. One minute, she was still packaged up, tight and swollen and hot in her jeans and panties, and the next, she was bare on the bed . . . with a solid, warm body lining up next to hers.

His knee slid between hers, riding up gently to pressure her core as he gathered her close, kissing her sleekly on the mouth. The prod of his erection against her belly gave her a little shiver of anticipation, and when he slipped a hand down to cup her breast, caressing and stroking lightly over her nipple, she arched into him, burying her face in his silky throat, feeling the ramrodding of his heart.

This is good. This is really good.

Selena felt the matching throb between her legs with every draw of his lips over her nipple, the tease of his knee up into her, the damp of skin plastered against skin, salty and warm . . . his smell, masculine and fresh . . .

She was done with the foreplay. With a dangerous little nip at his collarbone, Selena pulled away, planting her hands on his chest and shoving him back down when he would have risen to follow.

“Age before beauty,” she said, straddling him quickly.

For some reason, he found this wildly amusing, but his face lost all humor when she slipped him perfectly inside her and slid right down. Oh.

They both just froze for a minute, reveling in the beauty of the sensation. Selena tightened her muscles around him and his eyes, half-hooded, rolled back, flew open again. She smiled and did it again and then shifted in her position, enough that he could feel it . . . but that she could really feel it.

Just a little rocking motion. Pleasure rippled through her.

“Selena,” he said in a voice that sounded thin as a strained thread. “Are you trying to kill me . . . again?”

Her hands settled firmly on his pectoral muscles, she leaned forward and caught up his mouth for a good kiss. Rose then lowered her hips, and then he grasped them, held her in position, high and steady, as he slammed up and then eased down . . . then again, hard and fast and intense.

The orgasm caught her by surprise and she gasped as she pulled her face up and away from Theo, the waves rolling through her as she shuddered around him, her elbows weak and threatening to collapse. He thrust up once more and then yanked her down onto him as he gave a last heartfelt groan that sounded like her name.

She felt him explode inside her, felt the undulating of their bodies meld as she collapsed on him, hot and breathless and glorious.

Glorious.

She didn’t move for a long time, her head resting on his chest, feeling the air rush in and out, lifting and lowering, the thud of his heart. The warmth of skin, of man, of comfort. His arm slid around her, his fingers stroking up and down her spine as if to say he was feeling the same way.

Then she ruined it.

She opened her eyes, and her gaze fell on the window. And she saw the low sun sending brilliant orange-red rays into the sky.

Night was coming.

Theo uncurled his toes and rebooted his brain. That . . . was . . . 

He had no words to describe it, even to himself . . . so he didn’t even try. Instead, he held Selena, his face full of her hair; her warm, smooth skin burning into his. She felt so damn good.

This first round of lovemaking . . . well, it hadn’t been his best. He’d been a little quicker on the trigger than he liked, but at least he’d made sure she was taken care of. There would be a second round, and a third . . . and, he hoped, a multitude more. As soon as he recovered.

Then his eyes flew open. Son of a bitch.

He wondered if this was a good time to bring up the fact that they’d done nothing for contraception. He fucking knew better than that. He’d even been prepared, as much as one could be nowadays. Especially in a world where the more babies being made, the better to recreate the human race. But that wasn’t reason enough to be sloppy. But then again . . . What were the chances?

Before he could speak, she shifted and rolled off him, her arm sliding along his torso, her fingers giving him a little pat of what he interpreted as thanks as they trailed away and now she lay next to him. The open window brought a welcome shift of air over his warm, damp skin.

“Um,” Theo said, manning up. “Crap, Selena . . . I didn’t plan that very well.”

Her lips curved, but she didn’t turn. “Dare I ask what you mean, or is it going to get me in trouble?”

Poor choice of words. He plowed on. “I didn’t—we didn’t—well, there’s the chance you could get pregnant.”

She’d been lying there next to him, looking up at the ceiling, just as he had been. Now she rolled to face him and their noses were too close. Selena shifted back a bit, and her golden, wide-lipped face came into better focus.

“There’s a chance, yes,” she said with a little laugh. “But not only am I past my prime in that way, I’m also old enough to know when I’m most likely to conceive . . . and right now, I’m not.” She smiled, and reached over to brush her finger over his lips. “So I planned for both of us.”

She was so beautiful it made his breath catch— Beautiful physically, and in her confidence and . . . something else . . . wisdom. As if nothing surprised her. As if she’d seen it all, experienced it all . . . and could drag herself through it. And still have a sense of humor.

This was, he thought again, a woman who’s lived. Interesting. Compassionate. Confident.

Something loosened inside him as he looked at the delicate lines at the corners of her eyes and in the paper-thin skin beneath them, the little grooves cupping the corners of her mouth, the curve of her cheekbones and slender nose. He noticed for the first time the faintest brush of freckles over her skin. Her lips were wide and full and her thick, heavy hair tumbled over her face and neck.

She glanced behind him, toward the window, and he saw the change in her expression. Subtle, but noticeable. She looked back at him.

“What is it?” he asked.

She smiled. “Not a thing,” she said. Then she reached for him, for the beginning of a hard-on that had already started to respond to her again, and added, “Not a thing that we can’t take care of.”

She was lying.

But he pushed the thought away and pulled her close for a kiss. He’d put it out of her mind, whatever it was. He’d keep her so busy that she’d forget whatever it was that called her out into the night. He wasn’t leaving this bed, this room, her side, until they’d both become unmoving, sated piles of jelly-bones and damp skin.

Theo opened his eyes to discover darkness. A thin shot of moonlight rippled through the window, sketching the lines of the bed, the rumpled clothing and bedcovers.

He sat up with a start when he realized the bed was empty but for himself. Selena’s bed. Empty.

Fuck.

The last thing he remembered was her murmuring something . . . slipping away as he lulled into a satiated sleep . . . What had she said? And how the hell, after the last couple of hours, did she have the energy to even move?

“I have to check on Robert.”

That was what she’d said. She was going down to check on her patient.

Theo got out of bed, his heart pounding harder, a sick feeling heavy in his belly. Judging from the darkness, that had been a long time ago. Too long ago.

He scrambled around, unaware of where a light was—Hell, we hadn’t needed it—and unwilling to take the time to look for one as he scooped-up wads of clothing, sifting through to find his shorts.

Another glance toward the window, and the sick feeling increased. She wouldn’t be that foolish. She still had wounds on her . . . crusted gashes that he’d gently kissed and taken great care of during their lovemaking.

He paused, listened . . . and then he heard it, in the distance. The sound made his blood chill and he ran out of the room on bare feet.

“Ruuu-uuuthhhhhh.”

He knew it. He simply knew that she wasn’t with Robert, that she wasn’t with any other patient or Sam or anyone. That she had gone out.

The house was quiet. Of course it was. She only sneaked out when everyone was asleep. Dammit.

Theo paused in the kitchen to try and find a weapon—something, anything—that he could use. A bottle of beer on the counter—probably Frank’s. It was half full (maybe not Frank’s; he never seemed to have any left over), but he snatched it up, followed by one of Vonnie’s towels, and wondered if beer had enough alcohol in it to make a Molotov cocktail.

Matches. . . . and something else . . . A knife? A gun?. . .

They wouldn’t have guns. Only the Strangers had guns. And a few members of the Resistance. What else?

Despite the fact that his thoughts whirled and babbled, Theo moved quickly, smoothly, and with purpose. Those times in the kitchen with Vonnie, watching her, had somehow imprinted on his memory, and he found the things he needed: a handful of homemade matches, even the whiskey that Vonnie had used on Selena’s wounds a few nights ago.

That would make a nice bottle bomb.

Then he was out the back door of the kitchen. It had probably taken him less than five minutes from the bedroom to the outside, but it felt like forever. He’d remembered to button his shorts, but he didn’t have a shirt or any foot coverings—a disadvantage that became clear when he stepped on a really sharp rock.

He paused, listening, as his foot throbbed and he shoved his makeshift weapons in the pockets of his shorts. The zombie moans had grown louder, more insistent. Theo’s heart raced as he followed the sounds, running toward the wall that protected the Blizek estate.

All he could think as he ran, as he found himself at the wall but with no exit in sight, and thus had no choice but to climb up the crumbling brick wall with his bare fingers—all he could think was that Selena wasn’t blond.

They wouldn’t take her away as they did with blondes; they would slash into her. Tear into her skin and devour her . . . flesh, muscle, organs, brain. His throat closed and he pushed the fear away.

A clear mind. Strength and a steady mind.

He made it to the top of the wall somehow—it was a blur, the running and jumping, and digging his fingers into the mortar and pulling himself up with a desperate strength. At the top, he looked out and saw them yards away, in the shadow of a group of trees . . . the glowing orange eyes, bobbing and jolting in unsteady pairs in a cluster, a gang of them. A murderous gang. Less than a dozen, but deadly nevertheless.