“I took the robe,” Ash told him. “I was going to return it, but Jack took it from me.”
“That’s okay. It wasn’t the real thing. I was going to use it to replace the one in the church.”
Why would he do that? That bloodied robe meant everything to the village.
It was my blood, mine to take, Merc said into her head.
Ash started to softly cry. “Your things were gone. I thought you weren’t coming back.”
“They’re already in my Jeep. Let’s have a shower. Then we can sort things out.”
She nodded, but didn’t make an attempt to undress. He knelt in front of her and unlaced her boots, then removed them and her socks. He took his own off, then stood to tackle the rest of her clothing.
His hands didn’t shake as he unbuttoned her camp shirt and removed it. He lifted her camisole over her head. She couldn’t have stopped him if she wanted, which she didn’t. He unbuttoned and unzipped her pants. His mouth took hers when he slipped his fingers down the sides of her hips, pushing her pants and underwear off. She kicked them off, then slipped off her bra.
He yanked his shirt off and pushed his jeans and underwear down, freeing himself, in all his rigid glory.
Ash’s mouth went dry. She still seemed unable to form a coherent sentence, so she just surrendered to the moment. He left his clothes where he dropped them and crossed the room toward her. Maybe she’d gotten his angry expression confused with intensity. His nostrils were flared. That wrinkle across his nose was there, but his hands were gentle and his mouth lush as he lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against the rough hair on his chest. She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him, needing a break from the sour smell of the dirt. His skin had that delicious scent of fresh rain. He was heaven and earth and man, deliciously wrapped up in muscles and frowns and those fucking intense eyes of his.
He carried her into the small shower, setting her on her feet and pressing her body against the cool tiles as he turned the water on. It came out warm, easing the tension in her skin. He made quick work of washing them both, head to foot. She closed her eyes and let him tend to her. Every stroke was soothing, giving her back pieces of her soul she’d thought she’d lost.
He held her as the stream of water rinsed their bodies. Right there, in his arms, she was home. Anything outside of his body made no sense, but where their skin touched, everything was right.
After a moment, he took hold of her face with both hands and kissed her like a man starving for the connection only his woman could give him. She couldn’t resist him, couldn’t hold anything from him. When he bent slightly, lifting her, spreading her thighs over his hips, and entered her, the sensation of being one with him burst through her. His need, his hunger, his loneliness matched hers. She locked her legs around his hips as he pumped into her. She loved the feel of his big body, the steely tension all over him. She ran her hands up his arms, over his back. She pressed her face into his shoulder. She was close. God, so close. She ran her teeth along the edge of his shoulder as she fought giving in to the sensations rolling over her, pounding through her. He wrapped one arm tighter around her waist, but with his free hand, he caught her face. Using his whole hand, he smoothed the wet hair from her face.
Look at me, he said, except he didn’t speak audibly. His words went right into her mind. Now, Ash. He was nose to nose with her, and when she met his eyes, they were glowing an electric orange, like a slice of the setting sun slashed across them. When he kissed the side of her mouth, she lost the tight control she’d kept over her orgasm. It rumbled through her like a dormant beast rising. She couldn’t get to the other side of it. One ripple of ecstasy triggered the next. It wasn’t until he grew still that her body had a chance to ease back to reality, but by then, she was out of breath and too weak to stand without his support.
She leaned her head back and looked at him, realizing just then that no sunlight ever hit the bathroom.
This place. It messed with her mind. Was it blessed or cursed? Maybe the line between the two was thin and shifting.
He gave her a little smile. “You good to stand?”
She shook her head.
He carried her out of the shower, set her on her feet, then supported her while he reached for a towel. “We need to talk.”
She nodded, but he was rubbing the towel over her head.
When they were both dry, he led her to the bed and lifted the sheet for her to get in. “What I have to tell you isn’t going to be easy—for either of us—but I need to let you remember what happened tonight.”
Oh, fuck. There he went, making crazy sound sane. What made him think he could control anything in her mind?
In that moment, all the night’s activities became clear. She remembered everything. Nausea slammed into her. She gasped and tried to push free, but he held her tight.
“What you saw tonight, your vision, it did happen. But not in the order it was presented to you. I’ve told you Flynn is my enemy. He manipulated what you saw.”
“Jack, you mean.”
“No. His real name is Brett Flynn.”
“Brett? The guy who tormented Summer? He’s here?”
Merc nodded.
She glared at him. “Who talks about people as enemies?” she asked. “You mean he was a former friend. No one has enemies.”
“I do. My whole Legion does. He was never a friend.”
What was she dealing with here with Merc and the game and its players? The Legion was his team?
“What’s the name of Brett’s team?”
“The Omnis.” It’s time for you to know some things. I wanted to leave you out of this, but I can’t now.
“Merc…have you taken your meds today?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re talking right into my head.”
“And you’re hearing me?”
She nodded.
“I think that makes you the crazy one, not me.” He grinned at her. Goddamn. The look on him was irresistible. She pressed her hands to her head. She was losing it. Wait. She wasn’t the one with multiple personalities. Was she?
“I don’t have schizophrenia,” he said. “Nor do you.”
She glared at him, then rolled out of bed and fetched her clothes. She couldn’t deal with this convo naked. She didn’t chance a look at him or she’d be in bed and would never get to the bottom of this.
“You should trust what you’re experiencing.”
“It doesn’t make sense.” She rubbed her fingertips over her forehead. “None of this makes sense.”
“True, that. For a regular, anyway.”
Ash frowned at Merc. Everything he said was just slightly off. Like, it was English, but not words that made sense.
“Brett Flynn is evil. Pure evil. And he’s got his sights on you.”
She left that last statement alone as she sat on the edge of the bed. “How is it that he has a normal name but you don’t?”
Merc shrugged. “Not something I give a fuck about. Ask me something else.”
“He had two faces, one under the other.”
“I’m surprised you could see that.”
“It was just a flash, but how is that possible?”
“It’s complicated, but what matters is that you could see the real Flynn.”
“Which face was the real one?”
“The scarred face was the real him.”
“What happened to him?”
“An infection that didn’t heal well.”
Ash stared at him, then grabbed his cheeks in her hands and twisted as much has she could. “How many faces do you have?”
“As many as I need. And ouch.” He took her wrists and pulled her hands away.
Her gaze locked on his wrists. “I saw something in that pit… I saw you. Did that really happen?”
She flattened her palms against his. Odd—she’d expected a flash of something, but nothing came. Perhaps b
ecause they’d already been touching so much. Perhaps he could block her reception.
“It happened,” he said.
“Why?”
“I found a way to release the curse I’d set over the pits. I’d tried so many times before and wasn’t successful. But last night, I was. And I was attacked at the end of that process. The things that attacked me slaughtered the people who’d survived my curse. So I was elated I’d been able to remove the curse, and horrified at what came after.”
Ash stared into his eyes as he spoke, determined to find any hint of a lie. Funny how the truth could be distorted just by taking things out of context.
She believed him, but that didn’t resolve anything. “Where does that leave us?”
He stared at her mouth. The tension in his face was terrible. “There is no us.”
She nodded. She’d known they had no future from their first time together. Made no difference that she craved him, that she wanted him in her mind and in her life, with her always. There could be nothing between them.
His eyes were sad as he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “There are two things I have to do, then I’m taking you home.”
The thought of being separated, for any amount of time, sent her into a panic. She shut her eyes and forced herself to take calming breaths. “So the game’s over?”
“No. But it just got too dangerous for you to be here.” He gave her a hard stare. She didn’t blink or look away until he said the truth. “I don’t want to take you home yet. I don’t want to be away from you, either.”
Ash wrapped her fingers around his thumb and brought his hand up for a kiss. “What’s happening to us? I’ve never felt this way. You’re like a fever to me. A madness. A hunger.”
He cupped her cheek with his free hand, letting his thumb stroke her. “You’re an endless need for me.”
She nodded.
“It’s the Matchmaker’s Curse.”
“You mean this isn’t us? It’s coming from somewhere outside of us, something in the game? Are we under some hypnosis?”
He stared at her and slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so. This is us, with our blinders off, our hearts open.”
“But how do we know?”
“You can try to resist this. See how that goes.”
“Are you saying we have a chance?”
“Not really.” Merc kissed her forehead then walked naked out of the room, to his Jeep. He came back in with a duffel bag. He said nothing as he changed into fresh clothes. At last, he faced her. “I have to leave us, our future, up to you. Once you come into my world, you won’t get out alive.”
“That’s ominous.”
“It is ominous.”
“Summer’s in, right? Selena too?”
“Yes to both.”
“And Kiera?”
“No.”
“Does it hurt to come into your world?”
“Yes.”
“Would I have to be a fighter?”
“You aren’t a fighter now, so no one expects you to be a fighter after.”
“I’ll have you if I come into your world?”
“Always.”
“And if I don’t join you? Will I lose you?”
Merc’s eyes held hers. “I can’t walk away from you. So in or out, you’ve got me. But if you’re out, you won’t remember me.”
“Do you want me to become one of you?”
“I want you to do what you want to do. There are risks to both sides.” He brushed her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “Come with me now. See for yourself. Then decide.”
“I don’t know how to play your game. I hate role-playing games.”
He nodded. “If you come in, we’ll all help you adjust.”
“And if I don’t come in?”
“It may already be too late, now that Flynn’s found you. But either way, my friends and I will protect you.”
“Tell me one thing. Just one thing. How were you able to trick the villagers into seeing you differently?”
“Close your eyes.”
She did, feeling a little apprehensive.
“Open them.”
Ash gasped. Summer was standing in front of her.
“Close them again.”
She did, and when she opened them next, it was Sam standing in front of her.
“It’s harder to convince you that I look like someone you know than a complete stranger. It takes more concentration.” It was Merc’s voice coming out of Sam’s mouth.
Ash took a step back. And another, until she was sitting on the bed. “How do you do that?”
“Basically, hypnosis.” He was back to himself. “I haven’t been letting the people here see me as I am on this trip. Lautaro scrambled their thoughts of me after I was medevaced out.”
Well. That made everything clear. Not. She was sorry she’d asked. “What happens now?”
“We go steal the priest’s bloody robe.”
“What? No. We can’t. That’s a horrible idea.”
“Sorry, love. It is what it is. I can’t leave my blood on a robe where my enemies could take it. Fastest way to lose the game.”
“But I thought you were forfeiting the game anyway?”
“I may be. But I’m still not leaving my blood for them to capture.”
23
Merc helped Ash to the Jeep. They drove a couple of blocks around the plaza before parking in the alley beside the church. A cold chill tightened her nerves as she got out of the Jeep. She hurried to follow him up the steps to the side the door. “We aren’t really going to take the robe, are we?”
“We are.”
She touched his shoulder, forcing him to face her. “You can’t. Think of how many people came just to see it—how many will still come. The tourism is giving the town a new life.” She swallowed hard. “It’s all that’s left of your miracles.”
“I can’t leave it, Ash.”
“Please.”
He shook his head. “Flynn will soon figure out he has a fake. He’ll come back. The dead guy you saw today will become one of many. He will slaughter villagers until he gets what he’s after.”
“That was Flynn’s doing?”
“He caused the man’s death, yes.”
“No wonder he looked happy. Why does he want the robe?”
“He wants to reverse-engineer my genetic modifications. He can’t set curses. He wants that skill. It’s right in his bailiwick.”
Right. Everything came back to the damned game.
Merc opened the church door…without touching it. It reminded her of all the times he’d opened the door to their room. She tucked that away too. He had more explaining to do—and soon.
Ash moved on tiptoes as they walked right past a night watchman, who never roused from sleep. She grabbed the back of Merc’s T-shirt and said, “Are there cameras? Will Father Eduardo know we took the robe?”
“There are cameras, but I have us hidden.”
“How?”
“Electrical interference. It won’t be able to record us.”
That was too techie for her to unravel just then, so she parked it for review when they weren’t in imminent danger of being discovered stealing a sacred item from the church. She stayed close to Merc. The hallways were dark, but he navigated them easily.
They reached a locked door securing the room where the robe was stored. Merc raised his hand, and the door just popped open without his even touching it.
The robe was laid out on a piece of red velvet, arranged flat so visitors could see it better. As Ash watched, the locks at either end of the long glass case released, and it opened on the long side. Merc reached in and took the robe. The case settled back on its foundation. The locks reattached. Merc started to leave, but Ash stopped him.
“Merc. We can’t do this. It’s wrong.”
“This belongs to me, Ash. It’s my blood.”
The memory of what she’d felt before, when she was in that pit, tore through her mind
. There had been so much blood. So much sadness.
“Touch the robe.” Merc held it out to her.
She shook her head. If it really was his blood, she was afraid she would react as she had in the pit.
“Touch it. Then you’ll know.” His tawny eyes bored into hers.
She couldn’t resist cautiously lifting a finger toward the robe. Only an inch separated her from the dried blood. She really, really did not want to experience what she feared she would. Merc pressed the fabric to her finger. It was just as it had been in the pit. She saw him, slicing his skin, bleeding like a human fountain. His wounds kept closing, which was why he had to keep cutting himself. And then there was the golden light that appeared in the area where he was slashing at himself.
As soon as she wondered how the robe had come to be soaked with his blood, her perspective jumped to that of Father Eduardo. He stripped his alb off and went into the pit, using it to put pressure on Merc’s wrists. A force pinned his arms out on either side of him, keeping him from harming himself further. The priest could only focus on one wrist, but the light surrounded the wounds on both arms. Merc was roaring in agony—not of physical pain, but emotional anguish.
The scene continued playing out. She saw his friends from the fort arrive and surround him. Lautaro was there too. Guerre worked with the golden light, then they carried Merc off to a waiting helicopter.
The priest used his alb to mop up Merc’s blood in the pit. The story he’d told her was true. Merc had bled so profusely that the robe was soon saturated with mud and blood.
She saw the priest heading back into town, carrying the robe like a dead friend, draped in front of him. Before he stepped back into the jungle, Father Eduardo sent a last look toward the pits. Lautaro was there. He walked into the wide trench and, raising his arms, caused Merc’s blood to lift out of the pit, swirling in a little vortex, faster and faster, until it somehow ignited in the air, then sifted down as ash to slip away in the breeze.
Through all of this, Father Eduardo did not move, did not even breathe. It wasn’t until Lautaro disappeared that the priest finished taking the robe out of the jungle.
O-Men: Liege's Legion - Merc Page 23