Darr

by Theresa Beachman

  She re-armed, tucking her knife into her boot and her handgun into her jeans and glanced out the window. Flowerbeds were still visible near the building, but closer to the woods, alien vegetation was winning the war. Thick, tubular plants bobbed with large, pendulous blooms in the evening light, fighting for space with ridged, spiny ferns.

  A flash of color drew her eye to the bordering trees and her hand twitched instinctively to her gun. She swallowed. There he was, wading through the grass, his long legs effortlessly eating up the alien wilderness. Darr walked with an easy lope, like a big cat, his head alert and scanning. His crossbow was slung out of sight and two skinned rabbits dangled from his hand.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  She’d never seen him like this, confident and assured. He’d changed into a snug black t-shirt, and it clung to his muscles and accentuated the athletic definition of his bare arms.

  She turned from the window and hugged her elbows across her breasts. Was it wrong that her stomach flipped when she looked at him? Desire darted between her legs as she remembered his rock-hard body under her hands when she’d stripped him at the library. Possibilities tumbled through her mind unbidden, and she twisted back to the window to get another illicit peek of Darr. The other one. The one he kept hidden unless he thought no one was looking.

  But he was gone.

  Violet palmed her face with cold hands then rubbed the flush heating her breastbone. Fuck, why was she even thinking like this? Soon she’d be leaving him behind, and they’d never see each other again. That’s what she should be thinking about, not what he’d look like shoving those dark cargos off hot, muscular thighs and—

  “Violet?”

  She jumped, her hands flying to her mouth, her pulse detonating. Darr stood in the open doorway of the bathroom.

  He swung the dead rabbits, a crooked grin on his face, and her heart almost stopped. “Hungry?”

  She nodded, mute, because if she opened her mouth, she’d say something she’d regret.

  He inclined his head. “I’ve lit a fire outside in the courtyard. We can eat.”

  Darr tended the small fire in the corner. He’d speared the rabbits onto sticks and upended them across the flames.

  Violet’s mouth watered, and hunger rumbled in her belly at the aroma of roasting meat. “That smells amazing.”

  He smiled, his face more at ease than she’d seen in the last two days. “My dad taught me. He was good for something at least.” He pointed to a small log close to the warmth. “Sit.”

  Violet sat gratefully in front of the flames and watched in comfortable silence while he rotated the rabbits. Closing her eyes, she allowed the heat from the fire to bathe her face in hot orange light, suffusing her eyelids with a red glow. Tension dissipated from her shoulders as she huffed out a long, low breath. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d just sat outside like this. Relaxed.

  And with Darr, she felt safe.

  She tossed a twig into the fire. “You pre-planned this place as an escape route.”

  His head dipped in acknowledgment. “Yes. Nowhere’s safe anymore without preparation.”

  She searched his face. Flames danced in the reflection of his dark eyes, revealing nothing. Was there more to it? If he wanted to tell her, he would, and she wanted it to be voluntary. Surprised, she realized she wanted his trust. “Yes,” she agreed, thinking of the organization required to keep the Command Base ticking over.

  She glanced up at the night sky. Thick clouds hung low and ominous. “My dad loved camping, but we always had tinned soup. No skinned rabbits. He was pretty great. Before.” She shrugged and stared at the fire, remembering. “He was the one who didn’t want any of us to join the army. Not that we listened.” She pulled her knees up and dropped her chin. “Ironic. He ended up with three kids in the Forces.”

  Darr shot her a questioning look. “I thought Garrick—"

  “I had another brother. Tom. He was SAS as well, killed by a Chittrix early in the invasion.”

  Darr poked at the fire with a stick, and a flurry of embers sparked and fizzed skyward. “I’m sorry.”

  Violet tilted her head, a half-smile gracing her lips. “Don’t be. We’ve all lost people.”

  “Some more than others.”

  “Yes.” She rested her head, the blood of her parent’s death still hot and coppery in her memory.

  “Violet?”

  “Hmm?” She started, returning to him.

  “What are you trying to prove?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You fight to the exclusion of everything else. At the Command Base, I saw relationships. Families. But not with you. With you, it’s all about the war.”

  Violet blinked and picked at some loose skin on her thumb, the words lost in her throat.

  “Sorry,” he apologized, “you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  She raised her shoulders, gathering herself. “My parents. I was there when they died. I couldn’t help them. I’m a soldier, and I couldn’t save them. I got back to their house just in time to see them slaughtered. And their army-sniper daughter rolled up without even a weapon in her hands.” Hot tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. She swiped them with her sleeve and sniffed loudly. “I’m being ridiculous.”

  “Is that why you do it?” He stared at her, waiting for an answer.

  “Do what?”

  He sighed audibly. “Fight. Fight for everyone.”

  Violet leaned back. “I’m a soldier, Darr. It’s what I do. It’s what I am.”

  “But it’s not all you are. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be.” His eyes were gentle in the firelight.

  She stared into the flames. “And when did you become a shrink?”

  “I’m just saying. There’s more to you, but I think you suppress everything that isn’t about the fight.”

  She winced internally at his accuracy. “I promised myself I would protect everyone I could after losing my parents. I couldn’t help them, but I can go forward and do things differently. Take the fight to the Chittrix.”

  And there’s no room to add anyone else to the mix.

  She had her hands full making sure the people she loved already were safe. She couldn’t handle anyone else. Someone like Darr would just complicate her life in all kinds of ways.

  Darr reached forward and turned the meat to a different position. His strong arms flexed, and his dark hair mussed over his forehead. God, she wanted to push her hands through that hair, to taste him again. The memory of their brief kiss stung her lips.

  It would be a lot easier if I just left and forgot about you.

  Could she do that, just walk away from him after everything they’d been through? She wanted to think so, although, for the first time, doubt gnawed at her gut.

  “What about your mother?” she asked, anything to change the subject.

  Darr shook his head, his face illuminated in the glow of the flames. “She died when I was young. My dad brought me up. He was an army major who wanted a warrior son, but instead, he got a useless bookworm. Not that it stopped him from cramming military knowledge and skills into me at every opportunity.” He smiled a wry grin. “I owe my extraordinary survival skills to him. Too many weekends spent hanging out in Dartmoor in a two-man tent, running up and down hills in my shorts. The strict bastard did something right in the end. Even if I did end up a librarian.”

  Violet snorted. “You’re a librarian?”

  “I thought you’d already worked that one out, Sherlock.”

  She pressed a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Nope.” She glanced at him across the fire. “The reading group makes sense now. You’re a good man.”

  He shook his head. “Far from it.” He raised one rabbit from the fire and pressed the flesh to check if it was cooked. He cocked an eyebrow. “Dinner’s ready.”

  25

  Darr woke with a start.

  Something had disturbed him; it danced on the edge of his conscious
ness, still clothed in the cobwebs of sleep. Itchy wool tickled the underside of his chin.

  Rain hammered against the window, streaming down the glass in silver streaks. The rhythmic thrum soothed him, a soft noise from the world he remembered, when it had been safe to lie in bed and listen to the rain against your windowpane.

  The room was dark, and he blinked, waiting for his mind to clear as the jumble of the past forty-eight hour’s events reloaded into his brain. The Chittrix. The Box. Kissing Violet. Escape. The fire and a full belly.

  Kissing Violet.

  He rolled sideways, wanting to watch her sleep, but the rolled-out sleeping bag beside him was cold and bare. He scanned the empty room. Adrenalin ripped through him as he reached above his makeshift pillow. His fingers closed on the reassuring shape of his crossbow.

  Where the hell was she?

  Gunshot erupted outside, firing arrows of panic through him. Darr rolled out from under the hospital blanket, fully clothed. He was up and running in the direction of the gunfire before conscious thought had the chance to catch up with his legs.

  Violet.

  He bolted into the corridor and down the stairs four at a time, his heart rate tripling, fear souring his mouth. He burst outside, his head whipping left and right to find her. Where was she? Rain hammered on his bare head, chilling him as he sprinted around the edge of the building, his bow raised high, ready to take out anything that so much as blinked at him. His fingers tightened as he ran, wet grass and thick alien succulents snagging at his shins.

  Thunder crashed above, and he accelerated, screaming her name. As lightning split the sky with jagged light, he spotted a shadow.

  Darr raised his bow as a confident grip snared his neck. He collided with his assailant, and they crashed into the rough stone of the wall. Darr’s arm pressed across the other man’s throat as the snub-nose of a handgun pressed painfully into the soft flesh under his jaw.

  Except it wasn’t a man.

  “Violet!”

  She faltered, responding to his voice, her mouth slack. The rain had plastered her hair to her skull, and her t-shirt clung to her like a second skin. He grabbed her upper arm, restraining her. Thunder rumbled and raged overhead, and the trees shook and creaked, their trunks cloaked in darkness.

  “What the fuck are you doing out here?” he roared over the crash of the storm.

  She twisted in his grip. “I couldn’t sleep. I saw something.” She pointed to where the trees bordered the hospital. “From the window. There was something. I came without thinking. I—” Violet’s wide eyes stared at him, rain sliding down her cheeks.

  Shit. He strained to spot anything hidden within the shifting trees, but it was impossible. It would take all night to search the grounds, but his mind was clear, reassuringly free of pain and the spiky presence of Chittrix or Scutters. “There’s nothing here, V.”

  Darr released her, and she sagged against him, dragging in oxygen and lowering her gun. He slung his crossbow over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Violet wheezed in agreement and burrowed against him, her narrow shoulders shivering.

  He tugged her back toward the building, avoiding staring at the dark peaks of her nipples, visible through the wet fabric. Blood surged south from his brain, derailing his rational decision-making processes. Her t-shirt was rucked up, exposing the feminine curve of her belly. An edge of lace peeked from the slope of her hips, making his heart stutter as he hustled her back to shelter.

  They staggered into the reception foyer together, careening through the double doors with a crash that rivaled the weather outside. Water streamed from them, forming instant pools in the floor.

  Violet wiped her face with the back of her hand, but Darr was unable to release her from his arms. It felt too right. Her hair was all sleek wet curls and dark promises against her skull, and the faint scent of shampoo seared a direct line to his groin.

  He stroked his thumb along the line of her jaw. Her breath hitched, and her green gaze rose to meet his.

  There. It wasn’t just him. She didn’t shy from his touch. Her lips parted, and the tip of her tongue darted against the sexy indentation in the center of her full bottom lip.

  His body hardened all over, heat surging to his cock. With three swift steps, he walked her backward to the wall, capturing her, all the stress of the past forty-eight hours unraveling within him.

  This.

  This was what he’d wanted to do since he’d held her in his arms and stolen a kiss on the library roof.

  A shiver ran down his spine as he smoothed his knuckles down the alabaster skin of her neck. His fingers stalled at her collarbone, mesmerized by the rhythm of her breathing, her breasts rising and falling rapidly as he stroked her wet skin.

  He dragged his attention from the swell of her breasts to her eyes, which were dark and wide. He cupped her breast in his right hand, her nipple pressing against his palm. “You okay?”

  She nodded, her teeth scraping her lower lip, her breath juddering as he stroked the soft mound, teasing the erect nub between his thumb and forefinger. She groaned, and the hushed sound unleashed his desire.

  Lust overwhelmed him, offering him a glimpse of something better. For this one night, he’d pretend she was his. With Violet, he was whole and normal again. For a short time, he would be just a man and not a freak.

  Her face was trusting and open, and he saw it in her eyes—desire. And that moment when the other person also wants to forget.

  She was more than he deserved, the rational part of him knew that. The world had changed him. Caution and secrecy had become an intrinsic part of his being. But those things were for the past and the future.

  Right now, only here and now with Violet existed. She filled all the angry, wrong space within him, ushering out the dark with her clear brightness. Darr knew he was being greedy, but he didn’t give a damn as all the emotion of the day evaporated, leaving only burning need. Violet was the only thing in his life that had made him feel like a real person in far too long.

  He slid his hand around the curve of her waist, bringing her closer and leaned in, breathing in her scent from her neck. Deep down, he acknowledged he’d been numb and scared for months. Now, that was blasted away as hot blood scorched his veins with lust for the woman he held in his arms. “This?”

  “Yes,” she murmured and hooked her fingers into his leather belt, snagging him close. He nipped her shoulder, then kissed her clavicle, tasting her sweetness before scattering her neck with kisses, nudging her chin out of the way to access the sensitive skin of her throat. With the tip of his tongue, he felt the hammer of her pulse, strong and vibrant. His cock grew even harder, her arousal fueling his own hunger.

  Stroking his hands down her lean arms, he nuzzled her earlobe, his unshaven scruff rasping her cheek as his mouth sought hers. He paused over her parted lips, her body submitting to him. “And this?” His lips brushed the trembling corners of her mouth then retreated.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice breathy with arousal. Her hands released their grip on his belt and cupped his temples, dragging him down into a fierce kiss, her tongue hot and eager.

  God, she tasted sweet. Tomorrow, it ended, but tonight, she was his. He pressed her against the cool plaster while the storm raged outside. Violet groaned into his mouth, and he slammed his palms onto the wall on either side of her shoulders, caging her with his arms.

  He broke the kiss, but she held his face in her hands.

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  26

  Cold wall supported Violet’s shoulders, the chill against her skin a sharp contrast to the heat of Darr’s body pressed to her breasts. The tang of the storm saturated the atmosphere around her, charging the space between them with a metallic scent. Darr crowded her, enveloping her with his masculinity, his lean arms securing her upper body while his muscular thighs blocked her legs. His groin, hot and hard, pressed into the softness of her belly, ignited her
blood faster than she thought possible.

  She gasped as he kissed a slow, lazy trail down her neck, his touch leaving her skin tingling in the blazing aftermath as he triggered wanton need through her.

  His hands dropped to the hem of her tank and lifted the bottom edge, thumbing the material. Cold air kissed her skin as he raised the fabric and placed his palm flat on her belly, his heat radiating into her. Violet closed her eyes as warmth and wetness gathered between her legs.

  “Darr.” Her voice sounded different. Needy.

  His smoky blue eyes drank her in, holding her captive, dark and intense with longing. His hand slid across her stomach and palmed her waist, skimming the lace edge of her underwear. “Like satin,” he said under his breath. He leaned into her, cupping and squeezing her backside, drawing her against him.

  The rational part of her mind bellowed questions, warning her to be careful. He’d want more than she could give, and the darkness within him would drag her down. But the soldier in her liked to take risks, especially now, as his kiss unraveled the very last of her restraint. He kissed her as though he was starved for her, as if he’d been waiting for her all this time. Hunger for him raged through her like wildfire, consuming her.

  She’d lived too long by rules and regulations, fighting a war she was never going to win. Now she wanted to feel alive, to be with Darr as a woman and not as a soldier. Soft groans filled her ears, and she realized it was the sound of her own unfolding. The sound was raw and unfamiliar. Forgotten. For the first time she appreciated what she’d she lost by closing herself off from the world in an unending battle with the Chittrix.

  She raised her arms so he could sweep the tank over her head. It fell to the floor in a wet heap. His thumb brushed her nipples, sending shameless heat shooting between her legs.