by Snow, Nicole
Frick. I want to hold out longer, but after this endless pleasure flux, after I’ve waited so many years to feel him again...
I don’t have a chance.
Not when he owns my body this hard, teaching me how it feels to be re-broken in, used hard, loved harder.
Not when our pleasure has teeth, digging into me with every frantic thrust that makes me feel filthy and like I’ve been purified.
Not when he’s everything I ever need.
And he fists my hair, pulls my face back to his, and delivers another mind-bending kiss. I only tear my mouth from his so I can scream his name, telling the whole universe I’m his, as he slams deeper and deeper to his own growly finish.
“Come with me, Rissa. Come on. Come the fuck now!”
Everything goes white as he plunges to the hilt, burying his swelling cock in me.
Then the best climax of my life rips through me like a bursting dam, years of tension expelled in a single moment. His cock twitches, his whole body shudders, one groaning mountain spilling his own pleasure into me.
Every part of me goes to pieces, shredded, just ashes left of my nerves.
Five minutes ago, I was utterly destroyed, but he wasn’t done.
Not until that moment, as my inner walls clutch around him, locking us together in our rapture.
He’s in the same moment, his whole body shuddering with this perfect intensity.
I’m breathless. He’s one big snarl. Just like before, but better.
That’s how it goes as we fuse into our own pleasure, crashing down into the deep, cool darkness.
18
New Directions (Nine)
I can’t comprehend what the fuck just happened.
Only know I’m not upset it did.
Fuck it. I’m not even trying to play it cool. Right now, after what happened between me and Clarissa Bell, I feel like stomping around and beating my chest. Full Tarzan.
I feel like a whole new man again for the first time in a damn eternity.
What the hell it means, who knows. Us tumbling into each other’s arms like this, her kissing me real sweet, touching me like my scarred, warped body somehow brings her off.
But I saw how she came like lightning. There was no faking that.
I should be royally freaked right about now. But the only thing that truly freaks me out is the thought that the hottest sex of my life is a one-hit wonder.
This can’t just be a fiery trip down memory lane.
I’m not closing the door as soon as we’re done.
Hell, I shouldn’t even be thinking about this.
I should be looking through the data on that drive. Figuring out how it’ll help us find Deanna, stop Nash, and intercept whatever Galentron plans to do that makes burying this info so important.
Not gonna beat myself up over bending to Rissa’s siren call, though.
Especially when she’s tucked close in my arms, our bodies cooling as sweat dries on our skin, her naked flesh so smooth against mine.
The contrast is fascinating. Her velvety skin slides against the gnarls and whorls of my scars. Her pastel white tone glows against the dark and the weathered tan that’s part of me now after so many years in the wild.
Rissa tangles our legs and traces her fingers down my chest, following the patterns etched across my body. Looks like I’m not the only one fascinated.
“Have you been practicing?” she teases softly. “Because you’ve gotten better at that.”
I snort. “So you’re saying I wasn’t any good before?”
“Oh, you were amazing.” Laughing softly, she tilts her head to rest her chin on my shoulder and looks at me. Her hair’s a wild mess, her green eyes glitter, like this Venus sent down to remind me what love feels like. “Maybe I’m just deprived.”
“Maybe I was, too.” I linger on her face, on her softness, the way her lips purse with repressed laughter, pink and light and lush. “Haven’t had anyone since you, Clarissa. No one.”
Her smile fades, leaving a wide-eyed, startled blush. “Leo...”
Whatever she’d been about to say gets cut off by the sound of the front door banging, and Zach calling out. Shit.
“Mom?” His footsteps carry from the living room. “Ms. Wilma wants to know if you’re coming to the house for dinner?”
Muffling silent laughs, we break apart, scrambling for our clothes.
“Just a minute, baby!” she calls, grabbing her panties and yanking them on.
I can’t help but reach out, snagging my fingertip in the waistband of the lacy little thing that made me go wild when I saw her half-dressed. “You dress like this all the time now?”
She bats at my hand playfully. “Behave. And let me have my indulgences. Single moms don’t get to feel sexy often.”
I arch a brow, hoisting up my jeans. “So were you waiting for a chance to show those off? I’m a lucky damn dude.”
That wide-eyed look comes back, before she ducks her head, her hair falling forward to shade her face as she fastens her bra. “There’s never been anyone else for me either, Leo,” she murmurs.
Then she tugs her shirt on and slips past, almost escaping me, though I catch a glimpse of her red face, her breathless lips.
Does she even realize what she’s just admitted?
What she’s just confirmed, even if I had my suspicions? It knocks the breath out of me and leaves me frozen, elated, terrified, awed, and fucking confused.
Because she’s just erased any and all doubts.
Zach’s mine.
All the more reason I’ll die before I let my family go to pieces again.
* * *
It’s a quiet night.
We do dinner at the main house. It’s strange for me to blend in like I belong.
Doesn’t leave me much chance to look at the data, though it’s hard to care with good company. By the time we get back to the cabin, Zach’s falling asleep.
He’d been riding on my shoulders. The boy’s like a cat. He digs being up high and will climb the tallest thing around, whether it’s a tree or me.
But once I know he’s dozing, I swing him down into my arms, and hold him cradled against my chest, his little breaths tickling my neck as I follow Rissa down the trail through the trees.
Shit, he feels so right, so perfect, and I’m bleeding a little inside.
My son.
My son, safe in my arms, with his fingers curled tight in the front of my coat.
Like he doesn’t want to let me go.
I have to pry him free when I finally settle him down in his room, tugging off his shoes before I tuck him in. His small fingers knit even tighter. I gently peel them loose one at a time, laying them against his blanket and resting my hand to his head.
“Sleep tight, little man,” I whisper. “Good night.”
And some deep, painful part of me wants more than anything to hear him say, Good night, Dad.
So I watch him sleep for a minute or two.
It’s easy to see the blend of her features and mine with the last doubt erased. My stubborn jaw, her nose. My dark violet eyes, her hair.
A long time ago, we made something beautiful together.
That something made someone even more precious.
He stirs, turning over, and I stroke his hair back from his brow.
You’ll be okay, I promise. Never gonna let anything happen to you. Won’t let the things that hurt me touch you.
Not you, and not your mother.
Fuck. Speaking of those things...
I can’t let anyone at Galentron figure out he’s my son. They’d jump at the chance to study the effects of their sick conditioning and unknown drugs on my kid, passed down to the next generation.
They won’t turn my son into a lab rat.
I’ll kill everyone in the entire company before I let that happen.
A soft sound at the door warns me I’m not alone. I lift my head, looking up to find Clarissa watching us with her heart in her eyes.
Tell me, I want to ask. Tell me he’s mine so we can make something out of this.
Slowly, I stand to join her in the dark hallway.
She only smiles, her eyes pained. “You’re good with him,” she says softly.
“Easy. He’s a good kid,” I answer. “It’s not hard.”
I pull Zach’s bedroom door closed, latching it silently. Clarissa sways closer, resting her hand on my chest.
“Stay?” she whispers, and my heart wrenches. “I just...I need you tonight, Leo.”
Like hell. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such perfect words.
And I brush my fingers under her chin, tipping her face up so I can lean down to kiss her. She rises toward me without hesitation, meeting me halfway. It’s a soft thing, a chaste thing, and I can feel her shaking right down to her toes.
“Of course I’ll stay, sweetheart,” I growl.
We’re quiet while we change for bed. She slips under the covers and holds her hands out to me.
I go to her in a breath, sliding under the sheets and pulling her into my arms, kissing her hair, pressing my forehead to hers.
She hides against me, still trembling.
That’s when I realize it’s not just body heat she’s after. She needs me to feel safe.
Needs me to make her feel safe.
“I’m so scared,” she whispers against my chest. “So scared for Deanna.”
“I know,” I answer, holding her tighter. “But we’ve got a fighting chance, Rissa. You made sure of it.”
She says nothing.
Let her have her pride and secrets. I squeeze her gently. She rolls her shoulders and shakes against me with dry, soundless sobs till she finally drifts off. I wait for her soft, steady breathing before I set a mental alarm.
There’ll be no rest for me tonight.
Not when my heart’s so heavy, and I wonder how much time we’ve got left to save her little sis.
* * *
I force myself to doze for a couple hours, but I’m awake well before Rissa.
Slipping out of the bed, I gingerly ease her down and tuck the covers around her before dressing, peeking in on Zach, and then heading into the kitchen to start breakfast.
Once the coffee’s brewing and I pop open one of those cans of doughy crescent rolls and leave them to bake, I settle in front of the laptop and wake up the screen.
The application’s still there, waiting to give me a window into the secrets on the drive. I start poring through everything.
A good deal of it looks like contractor agreements, financial records. Pointed highlights left in the documents by some unknown reader, outlining ambiguous language and correlations to illegal activities, financials that make no sense.
Receipts. Paper trails. Even medical charts.
I wonder if mine’s in there somewhere. Either from Nighthawks, or after they blamed me for torching their lab. I spent at least a solid week in a burn ward before they shipped me off to prison as inmate 907.
Fuck, I don’t even want to see it.
It’s all damning, but it’s not enough.
Not when it’s all vague, dull corporate speak that can easily be denied in court as long as there’s no concrete proof. And I’m not finding it here.
Proof would be photographs with enough context to link them to Galentron with no questions. Video capturing illegal activities, with perps easily identified. Emails sharing confidential info in free conversation instead of veiled terms.
What’s here is suspicious, but it isn’t evidence.
It’s just supplementary material, useless on its own. My heart sinks.
What the hell? There’s nothing here that would even tell me where to start looking for Deanna herself.
So why would Nash have kidnapped her over this?
A single Notepad file among the many folders catches my attention.
It’s named COAIIG.SZ. Weird.
SZ isn’t a file extension. The software recognizes it as a text file. Except SZ isn’t the file type at all.
It’s the last two letters of Clarissa’s name, I realize, written in their sisterly code—with the period marking one letter off, turning the last two into a file extension.
CLARISSA.
And its last modified date was only two weeks ago. The rest of these Galentron files must be years old.
Before I can click to open it, though, the sound of little footsteps alerts me that I’m not alone. I lift my head as Zach comes padding down the hall, rubbing at his eyes, his hair sticking up like a chestnut cactus.
Can’t help but smile. “Hey, little man,” I say. “You’re up early.”
“I heard you typing.” He nudges his glasses up to scrub his eyes even harder, then plops them back into place and climbs up on one of the chairs opposite me, watching curiously across the table. “What’re you working on, Mr. Monster?”
“Typing too loud, I guess.” Chuckling, I stand, heading into the kitchen to pour a glass of orange juice and fish out a plate for him. “I’m just looking at some secret documents we unlocked last night. Your ma figured out the code.”
His eyes round, watching me raptly. “Are you and Mom spies?”
“Not your ma, candy’s more her trade. She’s just a smart lady.” I fetch the crescent rolls from the oven, covering my hand with my sleeve to protect it from the heat, and then toss a few on a plate and bring it back to put them down in front of Zach.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a spy, either.” I grin. “I just know some things.”
Zach grins back, his eyes glittering as he picks up a roll and starts plucking at it, tearing off little bites. Clarissa does that, too. “That’s kinda what a spy would say if he didn’t want me to know he was a spy, isn’t it?”
“Then I think you just answered your own question.” I reach over and ruffle his hair. “Eat your breakfast, and then you can go play for a while before your teacher comes.”
He nods, bobbing his head happily, and tears in.
It’s a quiet, cozy moment, eating with my son, me sipping black coffee as I browse the screen. I keep coming back to that Notepad file, though.
It almost feels sacrilegious, opening something meant for Clarissa.
Too bad it’s in the interests of finding her sister.
I don’t think she’ll mind.
Screw it. I double-click the file, sucking in a breath.
More star designations. Those six-digit strings with HR followed by four numbers. Only, more appear now.
A longitude point. No latitude. Plus a time.
Seven twenty-one p.m.
And a degree, an angle.
I frown, tilting my head. What—oh.
I know what she’s saying as clearly as if she’d whispered it in my ear.
Find the point where you can see this constellation. Right at this angle from the horizon at this exact time, along this line of longitude.
Christ.
Deanna’s brain could give Fuchsia a run for her money.
So this is the game. Following the trail of clues. In order to move to the next one, it looks like we’ll have to find it first.
Zach makes an excited sound. “Mr. Nine! Mr. Nine, Mozart’s here! Can I go feed him?”
I barely glance up, frowning at the screen. “There’s some turkey slices in the fridge,” I say. “Stay on the porch. Don’t go where I can’t see you.”
It’s almost funny, how easy I’ve slipped into the father role.
Luckily, Zach seems happy to listen, tumbling off the chair with crescent roll crumbs still around his mouth as he dives for the fridge, digs out some turkey, and then bounces out on the deck where that fat orange tabby waits, flicking his tail.
With a friend, apparently. I watch over the top of the laptop screen as Zach tears up little strips of turkey and feeds them to Mozart and another massive grey cat who looks like he’s had his ears chewed half off.
Mean-looking bastard.
Zach offers his hand. The new cat sniffs it, and then bu
tts its head into his palm.
Guess looks can be deceiving.
Clarissa’s voice purrs behind me, sleepy and amused. “Hey, I was saving that turkey for sandwiches.”
I glance over my shoulder at her. “He only stole a couple slices. Promise.”
“And you let him.” She smiles faintly, leaning against the wall. She looks smaller somehow, in her striped pink silk pajama pants and the thin, near-translucent white babydoll shirt clinging loosely to her slender curves. Looks younger. Sadder, too. “You’ve missed out on so much with him, Leo.”
Those words jerk me from my thoughts, right to the present.
I twist to face her, rising to my feet. “Clarissa...”
“No—no, I need to tell you something.” Her eyes glitter, going damp, her words thick as she shakes her head, holding her hand up. “I need you to know...to tell you...”
She can’t get the words out.
And I can’t stop myself.
“That Zach’s my son,” I finish.
Hell. Saying those words out loud? It’s like taking a bullet of pure euphoria.
She gasps, jerking her head up, staring at me. “You...you knew?”
I smile slightly. “You know anyone else with eyes like his?”
Her lips tremble. She takes a faltering step toward me. “Leo, Leo, I—”
I’m with her in half a second, pulling her into my arms, gathering her so close. “I know, Rissa. I know. And I get why you didn’t tell me.”
She huddles against me, burying her face in my chest. “You do?”
“What happened that night ran you out of Heart’s Edge,” I whisper, running my hands down her sides. I’m fucking breaking inside, but in the best way. “How were you supposed to come back even under the best circumstances, and tell me I have a son? Not exactly an option when I’ve been living in the goddamn mine, roasting wild rabbits for supper.”
She lets out a pained, amused sound. Her shoulders jerk as she burrows deeper into me. “You’re too good to me.”
“Real funny, babe. Feels like I’m not good enough.” I rest my chin to the top of her head, taking in her scent, her teary-eyed smile, every-damn-thing.