Primal
Page 13
SIX
A ping made Mockingbird turn to check it. So Silas was in Ecuador. He wondered if the Foundation tracked in the same way he did. Wait, they couldn’t. They might have Kestrel now, but they lacked his unique talent. He studied the picture of the fugitive, working with the Red Cross in the aftermath of the quake. Disaster relief, who would have guessed?
He needed to get an agent to Ecuador. Warn Silas not to use his ability, if he had one. If only I hadn’t lost Finch in Guatemala—but no use lamenting the irrevocable. If Finch wasn’t dead, he’d soon be working for the enemy. They needed to find Olivia Swift, like, yesterday. Her ability to fight covert battles while their adversaries slept would prove invaluable.
But that was a pipe dream. He had no idea where she was; she’d gone ghost. Then it occurred to him: Maybe she wipes our memories in our dreams. Maybe he’d found her. At that, he prowled through all his files, but there was nothing. Could she convince me to get up in my sleep and erase the records? A cold chill went through him. If she was unbalanced, there was no telling what she might be doing out there.
Anyway, he had no proof that was the case or that she knew anything about him or his efforts to find her. Sitting in this room, surrounded by humming electronics, was making him paranoid. Better to focus on the mission.
Tanager was in Florida. She could hop a plane to Ecuador, but getting to Puerto López, where Silas had last been sighted, would be tricky. Fortunately, Tan specialized in persuading people to do impossible things. That made her a natural for this job.
She hated carrying a laptop, so he used the phone straightaway, engaging the voice scrambler. “Tan, I have a job for you.”
“I’m on vacation.” It was a halfhearted protest, and they both knew it.
“Maybe I should call someone else. It’s bound to be dangerous.”
“Now I’m interested.”
He’d known she would be. “We have a possible recruit trapped in Ecuador.”
“What’s his X?”
In his opinion, Tanager had read too many X-men comics in her youth. “Uncertain. If he has an ability, he managed to keep it out of the Foundation records.”
“So he could easily be a zero.”
That was what they called failure to evolve, the term used by the lab geeks to describe all the corpses their experiments left behind and all the human detritus that wound up with tumors, lesions, and shattering mental illness. Zeros. Rage boiled through him.
“I think it’s a risk we should take, in case he’s viable. But if you don’t think you can handle it—”
“No, I can,” Tanager said. “Did you get my tickets?”
“You’re going first class to Quito, but you’ll be on your own from there. There’s nothing I can hack that far off the grid.”
“It’s not a problem. I’ll find and warn him. Am I recruiting?”
“I’ll leave that up to you. Do so if you think it’s safe and he’ll be valuable.”
“I live to thwart the Foundation. Over and out.”
He knew she did, and that was only a small portion of Tanager’s problems.
SEVEN
Getting the generator running didn’t take long. Silas dreaded going back inside because sooner or later, she was going to ask. She’d seen what he could do, so there was no way she’d accept silence on the subject. He could put it off long enough to shower, but there would be a reckoning.
The agony in his right arm had dulled to a low throb. Apart from general human empathy and not wanting to cause harm, the resonant pain he suffered in using his ability offered strong deterrent. He could count the times he’d done so on one hand. And no matter the torment or provocation, he’d never shown the Foundation what he could do. Eventually, his handlers had stamped his file with a big red FAIL and put him to work. That was the only accomplishment he could take pride in for the last five years.
And now, now his secret was out.
“Bathroom’s free,” she called.
But when he passed the sitting room, he saw she wasn’t dressed. Well, not exactly. She’d fashioned a makeshift toga from a bed-sheet. He tried not to stare, but she had amazing skin, all smooth and golden, and it didn’t look like she had any paler strips. Which meant—
No way. You can’t start picturing that. She’s already half a step from being terrified.
“You washed your clothes?”
She nodded. “There’s a line out back, I’d guess for wet beach things.”
He couldn’t believe she was so casual with him, after what she’d seen. But when he studied her more closely, he glimpsed tension in the line of her shoulders and a hint of fear in how she clutched the white fabric. Like he might use his mind to tear it off her.
And no wonder, he thought bitterly. It’s too bad it doesn’t because that might have a useful application. But his so-called gift didn’t work that way. He had dominion over the human body—over skin and bone—and the blood in between. It was the grimmest, darkest thing imaginable, and he had to control it. Fortunately, he’d learned to leash his anger long before this curse manifested … because he’d come into his full growth young.
Silas went on to the bathroom, gliding past the mirror without glancing at it. He hated his reflection, even now, because he still saw the empty-eyed monster he had pretended to be. In the middle of the night, he sometimes wondered if that wasn’t the truest version of himself.
Fortunately, the previous renter had left some shampoo behind, and he found a sliver of bar soap in the dish in the shower. It was a small stall, commensurate with the rest of the bungalow, and he felt pretty trapped the whole time. But God, it was good to be clean. Afterward, he scrubbed his clothes and then went looking for his own sheet. There were spares in the hall closet. This arrangement filled him with misgivings—it was surely a bad idea to sit around with her, nearly naked—until their clothes dried, but neither of them had a change. Sometimes you just did what you could in the circumstances and hoped for the best.
By the time he finished hanging his shorts and T-shirt, she had a meal ready: tortilla soup and crumbled crackers. Since they hadn’t eaten since the mouthful of crab the night before, it smelled divine. They devoured the food in silence, and then she sat back in her chair, regarding him with a determined expression.
“So I’ve been going over what happened in my head,” she said. “Because I can’t quite make myself believe it. I mean, it did happen, right?”
No question what she meant by it. “You didn’t imagine the incident, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You broke their arms. With your mind.” Her incredulity hit eleven on a scale of one to ten.
He put his spoon down and folded his hands in his lap, staring down into his white ceramic bowl. Patterns formed in the smears of soup: charged particles attracting others. As a child, he’d once imagined worlds existed on that scale.
“That’s accurate.”
“I don’t even know what to say. Wait, yes I do. Are you going to hurt me?”
The question hit him like a lash, though he supposed it was reasonable. He felt utterly exposed. Silas might’ve said any number of things, but he could only manage to answer, “No.”
But she noticed, and contrition flashed across her expressive face. “I shouldn’t have asked that. Duh. You saved me … and you did again with your brain trick, even though it hurt you. You’re a hero.”
“I’m not.”
“You are to me.”
At that, he finally raised his head; it was the second time she’d said so. She’d propped her elbows on the table, and the way she’d leaned forward to make her point, it pulled the sheet dangerously low on her breasts. He looked—and he wanted her. Silas wished he didn’t, because it reminded him of all he’d lost and everything he could never have again. But she was beautiful in the way of a sunset in the mountains or a black swan diving by night: haunting, memorable, but ultimately ephemeral. The memory might linger, but she would not.
Juneau went on. “I guess I ju
st don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, and really, I’m just numb, and tired, and I don’t have any more shock to spare.”
“Don’t be afraid of me.” He wanted to beg because he’d liked the easy way she treated him. It had been precious and new, and he hadn’t known how much he needed it until the fear crept into her eyes.
“I’m not.”
She seemed to sense his doubt and came around the table. To his astonishment, she planted herself on his knee. Oh, that was not a good idea. Though he didn’t intend to hurt her, it didn’t mean he lacked all male instincts. As she leaned into him, he noticed she smelled like him—the same soap, the same shampoo—but on her, it gained layers of sweetness. She’d taken her hair out of the braids, and it curled about her shoulders, brushing his bare skin in tantalizing sweeps as she breathed.
“I don’t know how to put this,” he said roughly, “so I’m just going to say it. I can’t have you so close to me.”
“Why not?”
Could she really be asking that? He found it hard to believe any woman could be so naïve. But he spelled it out anyway.
“Because we’re nearly naked, and you’re gorgeous.”
Juneau surprised him by leaning in and running her fingertips up his bare arm, tracing the pattern of his tattoo. Christ, it felt good. His muscles tensed. Maybe she wanted to go where this led after all.
“It might not be smart,” she said, “but I want you. I want sensation to dispel the pain and the exhaustion. I want to bang my heels on the bed until we both pass out and wake up feeling one hundred percent better, even though nothing has changed. I can tell you agree by the way you’re trying to pierce my hip.”
It was too much to hope she hadn’t noticed. But it had nothing to do with survival and everything to do with her golden skin and long legs and the way she sparkled with life. He had been dead so long that he wanted to get inside her and feel her heat. Maybe she could revive him all the way.
“That’s a natural physiological response to your warmth and proximity.”
Juneau raised both brows. “So you’re saying you don’t want to?”
“It’s more that I don’t trust anything good coming so easy.”
She grinned down at him. “I never said I’d come easy. I intend to make you work for it.”
He didn’t understand her lightness, especially under these circumstances, after everything they’d seen, and what she knew about him, for God’s sake. He said so aloud. Her smile faded a bit.
“Are you going to judge me, too? Tell me I’m not serious enough? Answer this: how does that help anything? How does misery make things better? I learned a hell of a long time ago that it’s better to decide to be happy—and pay attention here, Silas—make no mistake, happiness is a choice. If I choose to focus on all the terrible things in the world, then I might as well shoot myself because it’s not getting better. Or I can take my pleasure where I find it. I refuse to live my life under a rain cloud, even if other people think I should.”
“And what do you have to be happy about?”
“I’m alive. I’m clean and full, and I’m with you.”
God, he found her all but incomprehensible. How could anyone think being stranded with him was a good thing? And yet some frozen, lonely part of him melted just a little. Just enough.
She added with an impish grin, “Look, if you’re worried about your reputation, I’ll tell everyone you put up a big fight.”
Maybe all those years of playing dumb made him that way in truth. “What?”
She sealed her finger against his mouth. “Shh, don’t talk. I just want to kiss and touch you a little. We won’t do anything you don’t want … and we’ll stop as soon as you give the word.”
Reluctant amusement curled through him, leavening the ache in his cock. Eighteen years ago, he’d said the same thing to some girl he desperately wanted to fuck. Juneau made it impossible to brood, and just as difficult to excoriate himself with old guilt. Silas fell into the moment with her, willing to let her lead for a little while.
He gave a lopsided smile. “Fine. As long as you don’t tell.”
Then her mouth took his in a way that he’d never known: demanding and authoritative. She took, her tongue gliding against his, owning the kiss. It should have been funny when her hand crept up his chest, circling furtively toward his nipple. Instead it aroused him fiercely. By the time she turned her attention to his neck, he was squirming in the chair.
She sat back, her breath coming in little gasps. “Are you seduced yet?”
“Completely.”
His hands moved, almost of their own accord to where her makeshift sari knotted on her shoulder. She watched him, eyes shining. As he’d guessed, she sunbathed in the nude, so she was golden all over. Her body was finely made, almost too pretty for him to touch, and yet it sent a jolt of pure lust through him when he covered her breasts with his palms. She made a sweet sound in her throat, her head falling back. Juneau closed her eyes as he caressed her, sweeping his thumbs in delicately teasing circles. He turned her, so she straddled his lap, giving him better access.
“Your lips, now.”
He had to be dreaming. But disbelief didn’t stop him from leaning forward to nuzzle her breast in a soft, openmouthed kiss. She sank her hands into his hair, whimpering, and it gave him the courage to use his teeth a little. Oh, she liked that. Juneau responded with her hips, grinding on his cock.
“You’re gentler than you look,” she whispered.
“Is that all right?” He hardly knew what to do after all this time.
“I like it both ways. Depends on my mood.”
Silas didn’t think he’d ever dare to be rough with a woman. It mattered he succeed in giving pleasure, if she trusted him enough to allow him close. But he couldn’t be sure what she wanted: tender and soft or wild and demanding. It had been five and a half years since he’d been with anyone like this.
“And now?”
“Gentle,” she said dreamily. “Until I’m all over tingles.”
Silas scooped her into his arms and strode out of the kitchen. There had to be a bed in this place.
EIGHT
Few men could manage this with her height, but Silas made it look easy. Juneau enjoyed the ride down the hall, but then he set her lightly on her feet outside the bathroom. The sheer size of him took her breath away. He carried the muscles of a man who had done manual labor: tight delts, broad shoulders, bulky arms. The ink on his biceps showed to advantage with every movement, and his dark hair had a tendency to curl. Juneau admired him as she watched him rummage through the medicine cabinet.
They were both adults; she knew what he was looking for, and she was grateful he’d remembered. It spoke to the kind of man he was, caring for his partner, even when she got a little carried away. Maybe he should take it as a compliment … because low-level arousal still simmered in her blood.
“Any luck?”
Please, give us a break, here. It’s been a rough week.
He flashed an oddly shy smile. “Apparently. The previous renters left a few things behind, besides the soap and shampoo.”
“Tell me you found some.”
In answer, he held up a partial box of condoms. “Score.”
“If the stars align, you will. Check the date?”
“They’re good for a while yet.” He paused. “Has this ruined the mood?”
“Look on it as an intermission. We’ll get warmed up again. Although from the looks of you—” Juneau admired the tent in the sheet still tied around his hips.
“Yeah. It’s been a while.”
“Really?” He looked like a guy who could tap some ass anytime he wanted. Maybe in a bar, not a Starbucks, but women who went for a certain type would eat him up. God knew she wanted to. “How long?”
“Five and a half years.”
“Jesus, why? Were you locked up?”
Silas regarded her, his black eyes intense on her face. “Would that change your mind about me?”
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It was a terrifying question, and her family would be horrified that she was actually thinking about her answer—that it wasn’t an immediate yes and where are my clothes? Over the past week, they’d spent more time together than people who dated for weeks. She’d seen him caring for injured children with endless patience and comforting grieving women in his broken Spanish.
“No,” she said at last. “But I’d want to know what you did.”
His face stilled. “I wasn’t incarcerated in the sense that you mean. But I’ve been … away.”
“Like on sabbatical, living in the wilderness?”
“Not exactly.” In a curt gesture, he sat the condom box on the edge of the sink. “Look, Juneau, I’ve hurt people. Killed with these hands.” He stared at them with such loathing, as if they didn’t belong to him, as if they did those things against his will. “And I understand if you want to walk away from this. I won’t stop you. But I won’t lie either. Not even for someone I want as much as you. I’ve promised I won’t hurt you … and you either believe that, or you don’t.”
“Shit,” she said. “Were you a soldier?”
“No more questions. Do you want to fuck or not?”
When he put it like that …well, yeah. Maybe he was dangerous. And she was definitely crazy, because she liked it. She wanted all his strength stretched out beneath her, wanted to drive him wild. A bolt of pure lust lanced through her. Juneau took two steps and leaped at him. He caught her, both arms wrapping around her.
Silas buried his face in the curve of her neck. Christ, he felt good. Nobody had ever held her this way, her thighs around his hips. But he wasn’t content with that for long; his cock throbbed against the curve of her ass. She snagged the condoms as they left the bathroom. Gonna need these.
“You thought I’d back out on you.”
He tossed her onto the bed. “I was afraid you might.”
“You know why I didn’t?”
“No clue.”
One possible answer occurred to her as he untied the sheet from around his waist. A woman just didn’t turn down a man like that, whatever the reason. He was built on … grandiose scales. As if he could read her mind, he glanced down and lifted his shoulders in an amused shrug that was part diffidence, part pride. Naked, he was every bit the gladiator: equal measures in sinew, ink, and scars.