Shadow Touch (35 page)

“Let’s go,” Elena said, pulling one hand away to trail teasingly up his thigh. “And put the top up. There’s something I want to show you.”

He did, and she did, and it was very good.

It was strange for Elena, thinking of herself as a married woman. She did not feel married. She felt the same, except now there was a weight to her relationship with Artur. A good weight, another kind of link, and it felt right. Crazy, too—she had never imagined herself capable of such fast and immediate commitment—but here she was, living in his home, with a heart so full she thought it might burst. How strange. So much could change in such a short time. Life, plodding along, and then
boom, boom
. Yee-haw. A happy ending.

Kind of.

They had dinner that night with Amiri and Rik. The two shape-shifters, who had been staying at one of the guest apartments Roland owned just for out-of-towners, came to Artur’s home bearing gifts of dessert and flowers. Elena knew Artur was reluctant to let them in—they would infect his floors and walls and God only knew what—but it was easier than meeting in a restaurant, especially with what they had to talk about.

“So it’s safe for us to go home.” Rik did not look terribly happy about that. He leaned on the table, fiddling with his napkin. “And if we don’t want to?”

“Why not?” Elena asked. “Even though you stuck with us this long, I can’t imagine staying on land is your first choice. What about your family?”

Rik’s jaw flexed. Elena saw an emptiness in his eyes, and she realized that despite his bouts of strength and good humor, she had felt that missing piece of him from the start; as though he were a vessel waiting to be filled. Elena did not believe Rik was broken, but his captivity had certainly stripped him down to the very basics. Or maybe it was not just his time at the facility; she knew almost nothing about the young man or the life he had come from.

“I don’t have family,” he finally said, confirming her fears. He challenged them all with a hard stare. “Not any that wants me, anyway.”

Silence around the table, broken only when Amiri sighed. “I cannot imagine that. Why did you not speak of this before?”

Rik gave him a look, and then tore his gaze away to stare unblinking at Artur. “Will Dirk and Steele hire me? I don’t want charity or special treatment because of what I am. I can learn things.”

Elena felt Artur’s indecision. After eavesdropping on his conversation with Nancy Dirk, she knew why. God. She felt like a full-fledged inhabitant of the Twilight Zone, except this was worse. How did a person deal with craziness, and then go on pretending life was normal? How did she go back to being a regular girl albeit a regular girl who could perform miracles?

“No favors,” Artur said quietly. “But I am sure Roland would offer you a job, though it would be a trial position at first.”

“Good enough.” Rik studied his hands and hesitated. “What about you, Amiri?”

Amiri also gazed at his hands. “Even with Beatrix gone, home might not be safe for me. I do not know where those photographs ended up. So, I will stay. I have already spoken to Roland. He is preparing my paperwork.”

“Nice.” Elena sipped her beer, noting the relief that passed, fleetingly, over Rik’s face. “The old gang is hanging around. We can reminisce about being lab experiments when life gets too boring.”

“I’ve got you all beat on that one,” Rik said. “I bet none of you were probed.”

Elena held up her hands. “Do not say another word. Please.”

“When are you leaving for Wisconsin?” Amiri asked, politely cutting his steak into portions. The golden highlights in his hair seemed especially bright tonight, the undertones of his dark skin shimmering smooth and warm.

“At the end of the week. I’m going to teach Artur how to be a farmer.”

For a little while, anyway. Long enough to work the harvest. Long enough to visit the hospital and check on the children. Elena did not tell them that after Wisconsin they would be returning to Russia. They had unfinished business there. Or rather, Artur did. It was time, he had told her, to go back to the orphanage. Time to find his mother. Time to walk those old streets and come to terms with his nightmares—nightmares he did not want to burden Elena with.

It was funny: she did not know what was going to happen to them, knew it would not be easy, either way, but she looked forward to the adventure of living and loving Artur Loginov. He was her best friend, and she was his. They were each other’s heroes. It could not get much better than that.

The doorbell rang. Artur frowned.

“Are we expecting anyone?” Elena asked. She knew the answer before she asked, but the question was for Amiri’s and Rik’s benefit. Everyone stood, and it was as though they were back in the facility or in the woods or on the train: ready for fight, for flight. Maybe they would always be like that, for the rest of their lives. Primed for the worst, hoping for the best.

They followed Artur to the foyer like children, crowding at his back. He opened the door.

“Hey,” said Rictor, holding a potted fern. “You guys miss me?”

Artur almost shut the door in his face. Elena grabbed his arm.

“Yes,” she said, giving her husband a stern look. “We did.”

“
I
didn’t miss you,” Rik said, picking his teeth with a fingernail.

“That’s okay,” Rictor said. “I really didn’t come to see you.”

Elena made a place for him at the table. Rictor handed her the fern. She put it down in the center of the table, alongside a vase of white tulips, a gift from Mikhail, who had just recently arrived in Boston with his family.

Rictor sat down. There was a long moment of silence. Elena was glad for the quiet. It gave her time to adjust. It was bizarre, seeing Rictor, remembering him cutting her hair, dragging her through halls… and his body wracked with sobs.

He looked at her, and it was impossible to say what he was thinking. Only that he had heard her thoughts. Only that he had come back.

“So,” Artur said. “How is it they say? Long time, no help?”

“I helped,” Rictor said, tearing his gaze away from Elena. “If you remember.”

“I do,” Artur admitted. “And I am very grateful. I just thought we would see you again before the actual fighting was done.”

“I couldn’t get involved,” Rictor said, which invited derision from the other men at the table.

“That does sound pretty weak,” Elena said. “Especially coming from you.”

“I did what I could,” he said, quieter, and Elena was again reminded of the facility, that cold, hard man who had turned into a friend. She could give him the benefit of the doubt. Rictor was as Rictor did, and it was nothing more nor less than that.

“All right,” she said. “I believe you.”

“Elena,” Artur said, but she gave him a look and he shut his mouth.

“She’s training you,” Rictor said. “Be afraid.”

Artur said nothing. Elena knew very well he did not mind her “training” in the slightest. Rictor quirked his lips, but fortunately, said nothing.

The five of them sat at the table and talked until the night grew long and the dawn was near enough to taste. It was nice sitting with these men, whom she had known only under extreme circumstances, and discovering that she still liked their company, that she still trusted them to be near and dear.

In the end, as they were readying themselves to leave, Elena went to each man for a hug. She was not the hugging type, but it was a gesture she wanted to make. She saved Artur for last, but he—unlike the others—did not let go. She turned in his arms with her back pressed against his chest, his strong arms loose around her waist, and savored his comfort—his first true comfort in years: he was not alone, he could touch without pain, and it was good.

“I haven’t had a single friend since my grandfather died,” Elena told them all. Her throat felt tight. “Not a friend I could truly be myself around. And now… now I have four. Thank you, guys. Thank you so much.”

“We are the family you make,” Artur said. “And that is a tie stronger than blood.”

“Because it involves choice,” Rictor said. “Beautiful, sweet choice.” He picked up Elena’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I still owe both of you. I’ll be around.”

“Rictor,” Elena called, before he could walk out the door. “What the hell are you?”

He stayed silent, just looking at her. Elena shook her head. Typical.

He smiled, a devil in his eyes, and left the normal way, without vanishing into thin air. Amiri and Rik followed on his heels, saying their good nights and good mornings. Artur closed the door behind them. He turned around and leaned against the hard wood, his arms folded over his chest. His gaze was hungry, hot, and she felt the fine thread of his amusement as he studied her body and imagined all the different ways he could take her clothes off.

“It’s so late,” she said. “I’m tired.”

“I do not care,” he said.

“I know,” she said, backing slowly away. “You’re a bad man.”

“Yes,” he said, following her. “I used to be a thief. A gun for hire. I am very dangerous.”

“So am I,” Elena said. “Or so I’ve been told by dangerous men.”

“Ah, but you know how I feel about dangerous women.”

She moistened her lips, loving how his gaze moved to her mouth and stayed there. She kept retreating. He continued to follow. Elena backed right up against the dining room table. Artur picked her up and set her down, pushing between her legs until he stood tight against her body, hot and ready.

“You know how I feel about you, right?” Elena peered up into his old-soul eyes. She knew, now, what gave a man those eyes, and it was a hard and beautiful knowledge, sacred between both of them.

“I know,” he said. “Just like you know.”

And then he kissed her, gently, and she felt herself wrap tight around his spirit, spin slowly into his soul, and he said, “You and I, Elena. We will keep each other whole and safe until the end of our days.”

“Sure,” she murmured. “But you’re asking for trouble.”

“Always,” he said, and then laughed as she gave him some.