Phoe shook her head. “He should not have sent you that book. It isn’t for little boys.”
“It was awesome.”
“As long as you aren’t up all night with nightmares.”
“I don’t have bad dreams much anymore.” The little boy’s face suddenly seemed sad. “Are you guys going to come visit soon?”
“In a few weeks. You’ll be home for a long holiday.”
“Promise?”
“Of course. In the meantime, behave yourself, okay?”
“I will.” Ben rubbed his eyes and Phoe searched for signs of tears. She supposed it was an awfully big change to expect the little boy to adapt to boarding school. He’d been shoved around so much in his short life. “Can you get Cage to send me a holo later?”
“As soon as he comes home,” Phoe replied.
There was a clattering sound as a large hoard of kids poured into the room from where Ben was calling. He laughed and nodded at them. They waved and shouted “hellos” at the camera. “I have to go, Phoe. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Love you, kid.”
Ben giggled, all hints of sadness having evaporated when his friends came in. “Me too.”
She closed the eSlate and shoved it down into her pocket. She loved Ben. When they talked, she felt like she could really be his mother. When they’d first brought him back from Kobi Six, he’d been so timid and clingy. He wouldn’t let them out of his sight and spent many nights curled up between them on the sofa. During the month he’d stayed with them before going to Arrington, Phoe formed a bond with Ben that had made her remember all those dreams she’d once had about getting married and starting a family.
But Cage was apprehensive. While he loved Ben as a father loves his son, she could tell he was holding back. And why shouldn’t he? His experiences with family had been horrendous, to say the least. He still woke up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and shivering with Lily’s name on his lips.
Phoe stirred the vegetables in the wok and added some soy sauce. Cooking was a comfort. Most people didn’t really cook at home anymore. Hydro-meals that were pre-measured and pre-packaged made to be thrown in an aquilaton were as close as most people normally got. She hated the “almost real” flavor and if she had time would always prefer to cook on a regular stove. In fact, that was the first thing she’d insisted on before moving to London with Cage the previous spring.
When she’d first moved in, Cage’s flat in the center of town had been downright utilitarian. Minimal furniture, bare walls, and obsessively neat. Ever since, Phoe had been imposing her own shabby-chic style to the place until it felt more like home. Fluffy couches perfect for reading and napping were arranged in front of a holovid monitor that was practically a wall in and of itself. Several afghans hand-knitted by her mother were thrown over the backs. Flowers and photographs anointed every surface. She had exchanged Cage’s uncomfortable bed for a large, four-poster rice bed almost exactly like the one that stood in her bedroom in St. Francisville. He may have grumbled a little bit about Phoe completely redecorating his life, but she knew he didn’t mind. He was more at ease now than he’d been in all the time she’d known him.
Cage’s arms wound around Phoe’s waist, startling her. “God, you’re like a ninja,” she chuckled, leaning back into his embrace. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“That was by design, love.” He brushed her hair away from her neck to kiss at the slope. “Your blood always smells sweeter when it’s racing.”
Phoe turned the heat off under the wok and turned to face him. “Is that all I am to you? A juice box?” she asked, smirking as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Hardly.” He pulled her into a deep kiss that she could feel clear down to her toes. His hands rested on the curve of her backside, pressing her body against his. She could feel that he was interested in much more than a “hello” kiss after a long day’s work. “Though I did think long and hard about eating you alive.”
“Ooh…” she whispered. “Long and hard. Two of my favorite adjectives.”
He laughed and licked her lips. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Hi.”
“I went to see Wilder about this ridiculous forced leave,” Cage said. He backed away and went to the fridge, picking up a metal bottle of blood and pouring some into a small glass.
“And what did he say?”
“He says we are deactivated as of Friday. Nothing we can do.” He sighed and sat down on one of the stools at the counter.
He looked so dejected that she couldn’t help laughing. “It isn’t the end of the world, you know.”
“You don’t understand. I don’t do vacations. I only sleep grudgingly.”
Phoe offered him a bite of the stir-fry from her fork. “But think of all the fun we can have. Some time together, just the two of us. And we can go and see Ben. He called a few minutes ago. I think he’s a little homesick.”
Cage nodded. “I never know what to do with myself when I’m not on some sort of case or assignment.”
She moved suggestively against him, nuzzling into his ear. “You’ll have plenty to do.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh definitely,” Phoe purred, sliding her hand down between them to brush it against the length of his cock. “Not that we have to wait until Friday.”
“You’re wicked, Miss Addison,” he rasped, biting down on her lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. She pressed her tongue against his lips, letting it slip between them to play at the insides. The mere scent of him ignited her desire with an intense, almost terrifying heat. Her kisses were greedy, biting at his lips while threading her fingers through his hair.
He stood, never breaking contact with her mouth as he pulled her roughly against him. Sliding his hands under her bottom, he squeezed at the tender flesh. She was breathless, wrapping her legs around his waist as he lifted her up on the counter. Her lips felt swollen when he released her to nudge under the shirt collar and nibble at the hollow of her throat.
“Maybe this is why Maurice wants us to take a vacation,” she muttered.
“What do you mean?” he asked, pulling her shirt open. The buttons popped off and they could hear them bouncing off the tile floor below.
Phoe moaned as he buried his face between her breasts, kissing each one in turn. “We can’t seem…to keep our hands off each other.”
“Well,” Cage growled. “I do love it when you cook.” He pushed the shirt from around her shoulders and pulled it off completely.
She groaned, pulling him tight to her body. She enjoyed the feel of his hardened body against her own. She ground her center against his, wanting him more with every breath she took. “I really should cook more often then.”
“It seems when we’re together, I can’t seem to think of anything but eating.” He kissed down her body, lingering at her belly button as nudged her down on the counter. With a swift sleight of hand, her stretchy pants were sliding over her thighs and he was pulling them away from her ankles to toss aside.
“Cage,” she whimpered. “The dinner’s going to burn.”
“Fuck it,” he mumbled, insinuating himself between her thighs to nibble at the soft spot on the inside.
The ends of his hair tickled at her knees, then higher. His mouth was warm as he found his way to the junction of her legs. Reaching behind her, she fumbled for the controls on the stove. Their games would not come to a happy end if the flat burned down around them. Not to mention that Cage had just been allowed back in London.
“Would you fucking leave the food alone,” he complained.
“Safety first…” Her words trailed off in an incoherent moan as he took the lips of her sex between his. He teased first one and then the other, nibbling and biting at them. He was such a tease and she loved it. By the time he pressed his tongue between her sensitive lips to lap at the innermost petals, she thought she’d come apart.
Her fingers wound into his hair, pulling his mouth against her. He toyed w
ith her expertly. His tongue mimicked future activities enough to make her panting and wet. Would he let her come, screaming out her ecstasy in the kitchen, or would he be selfish?
Over and over he brought her to the edge, only to let her fall back down until he was ready to take her. It was a game they played often, and she couldn’t wait to find out. His lips found her clit, kissing it gently. Then harder, pulling it against his teeth until it was so swollen that she could feel it throb. She gasped, calling his name as she came with a sudden and frightening fury.
Phoe breathed hard. She tried to shake off the orgasm that had been building since their sparring session, but Cage had other ideas. He pulled her legs around his waist and yanked her into his arms. She held on tight as he used his other hand to grab the wok, still warm from the stove, and took it with them into the bedroom.
*****
Phoe lay across the bed, the blanket barely covering her ass as she flipped through the images on her eSlate. Stefan had come through, sending her the full holo-ad for Absinthia, and now that Cage was properly plied with sex and stir-fry, she could spring the trap on him. It also helped that he was sleepy after his exertions.
“So Stefan sent me the full skinny on our trip.”
“Our trip?”
“Yeah, to Absinthia.” She flipped her hair to one side and peered over her shoulder at him.
“I wasn’t aware that we were going to Absinthia.”
“Well we should go someplace on our holiday.”
“You mean, our forcibly imposed leave?” Cage grumbled, popping another bit of food into his mouth.
“Yeah, that.” She was clumsy as she got up onto her knees to crawl back to him while balancing her eSlate in her hand. “Look at this. It seems like it would be so much fun. There’s lots of things to do and romantic little boarding houses with secret gardens. Theaters and exhibitions—the whole place is like a perfect replica of Victorian London.”
“Wouldn’t you rather go someplace like…I don’t know…Bora Bora?”
She groaned and threw herself down beside him. “I’ve been to the beach.”
“Or maybe Paris? I hear the one here on Earth is as authentic as it always was. It’s like a real city.” He flashed a sarcastic smirk that infuriated her.
“Until a hoard of crazy zombies breaks into our hotel room and eats our brains.”
“Most of the major cities are pretty well-secured against Others these days. I don’t think we’d be eaten.”
“Except for the vampire covens who know exactly who we are and would like nothing more than to rid their community of us.” She sat up and stared down at him, feeling the heat of anger creeping into her neck and shoulders. “Look, St. John. I’ve gone everywhere you wanted and done everything your way. The least you could do is take me someplace nice for our vacation.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really. I’ve been shot at, had my brain reprogrammed, turned into an alien, and I burn to death at random intervals—you owe me.” She didn’t wait for him to respond and stomped out of bed. She grabbed her shirt that was lying across the dresser and pulled it around her shoulders. “Unless of course, you’d rather I go alone.”
“Phoe…don’t be like that,” he called after her. “Come back to bed. Maybe we can compromise?”
“No,” she shouted from the bathroom. “I want to go to Absinthia.” She could see him in the bathroom mirror. It was almost comical, the expression of confusion and surprise on his face. She had never stood up to him this way, and to be honest, she felt a little guilty for doing it now. But Cage was one of those dominating types who wasn’t willing to entertain the notion of doing something new unless it was forced upon him. She also knew that it was a battle she’d already won. She’d won it back at the training facility when she initially said she wanted to go. She knew that he would never deny her anything she truly wanted if it was in his power to give it to her.
And the feeling was entirely mutual.
After several minutes of Phoe watching his inner monologue play out all over his face, he finally acquiesced. “You’re kind of a brat, you know.”
Phoe peeked around the doorframe. “I look forward to your reprimand.”
Three
“Pardon me, guv’nor.” A man in the largest top hat that Cage had ever seen pushed past them in an attempt to get to the exit of the transport ship that had brought them to the Victoria and Albert Spaceport. He laughed at his own cleverness, belching out a cloud of bourbon breath in Cage’s direction.
“Not at all,” Cage said. He gritted his teeth and tried to smile pleasantly as he stepped aside.
“Wow. Your accent is fantastic,” the man exclaimed, his voice dripping with a down-home Midwestern American drone. “Did you get a port card already?”
“No, mate. I’m actually English.” Cage shuddered at the thought. In the six months since Sugoi, the ports like the one at the base of Phoe’s neck had become commonplace. It wasn’t any surprise. Manticore Industries and their head psycho, Derek Machine, never missed an opportunity to make a buck. They even had a clever name: a mindjack.
The man nodded, looking almost disappointed. “That’s great. Honey, come here,” he called to a rotund woman with squirrel-like features. “Hey mister. Talk English to my wife. She doesn’t have a jack and needs to practice.”
“Pardon?” Cage couldn’t believe the nerve of this dolt.
Luckily, Phoe’s clumsy return from the lavatory interrupted any further pleas to perform like a trained monkey for the townsfolk. He’d never been so glad for her to step on his foot. “Sorry, babe.”
“No. Don’t be,” Cage responded. “Really.”
Mercifully, the exit doors opened and the two of them were rushed along on the wave of tourists toward the port. The place was bright and bustling. The entire spaceport was a replica of a train station circa 1850, save for the domed glass ceiling above them that allowed the artificial sunlight to stream in.
Every so often the shadow of a passing airship would block out the light. Tourists hurried to make their connecting flights and others were like slow-moving lemmings, pointing and taking pictures of everything with their eSlates. Phoe would have been one of them if Cage hadn’t kept a tight grip on her wrist, dragging her across the spaceport.
“God, would you slow down?” she squeaked after she ran over her heel with the edge of her suitcase for the third time.
“I want to get to the hotel.” It was no secret that Cage hated crowds. He always felt like he was one little tick away from shifting to some horrible creature and eating everyone. “And away from all these…tourists.”
“In case you missed it,” she started, “you are currently a tourist.” She snapped another photograph of a gaslight as if to emphasize her point.
“How can you, of all people, think this is pleasant?” he asked, narrowly missing a woman in a Victorian bustle with a latte and three hatboxes in her hands. “Did you see that you can purchase port cards to make you sound more Victorian?”
“That’s fun,” Phoe replied.
“Fun? Manticore can jack right into their minds and like good little morons, they’re paying for the privilege.”
“I know,” she muttered, not really paying attention. She was much more concerned with the Baedecker application on her eSlate. “Listen to this. ‘The Alice & Ludwig Pension is situated at the heart of Absinthia’s theatre district.’ Maybe we can see a show.”
“Pension. What do you mean, pension?”
“You know. A bed and breakfast. An inn.”
“I thought we were going to a hotel.”
“Well,” Phoe stammered. “We were, but I saw a holo for this in all of Stefan’s stuff. It looks so quaint and pretty.” She shoved the eSlate in front of him. “They have beautiful gardens and they serve dinner every night in the dining room. Just listen: ‘Each night at seven sharp, you and your fellow guests will be treated to an authentic Victorian dinner between six and thirteen courses.’ Doesn’t
that sound divine?”
“It sounds nauseating. Who can eat that much food?” Cage was feeling self-righteous. He’d spent all that time on Kobi Six, watching those people struggle for every bite they put in their mouths. Decadence like she was describing was abhorrent.
She stopped in the middle of the corridor, dropping their bags. “Are you going to be like this the whole trip?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you have done nothing but complain about this trip since I booked it. You could be a little nicer.”
Cage sighed and stalked back to her. “Can you please not cause a scene right here in public?” He picked up the bags and started toward the rendezvous point: an enormous shop in the center of the spaceport.
“Please proceed to C. Babbage & Sons Emporium to validate your passkey,” an artificially cheerful cyborg voice droned. “Be reminded that once you exit the port, you will be inside a fully interactive environment. Please familiarize yourself with existing regulations per the Interplanetary Union. These can be found in your Baedeker. Thank you for visiting Absinthia.”
“I’m not making a scene. But I think that you could find it in your heart to be a little bit more enthusiastic. This is something I really want to do. I don’t ask for a lot, do I?”
He considered Phoe’s question and supposed she was right. Ever since they’d gotten hooked up, she had been content to follow him from one thing to another without complaint. She’d saved his skin several times in the process, so it shouldn’t be such a hardship to grant this particular wish. Even if he thought the whole thing was profoundly silly.
“You’re right, mouse,” he acquiesced, slipping an arm around her waist. “I promise I’ll stop being such a bear.”
“Well not too much, I hope,” she sassed, stretching up to kiss his lips. “I kind of like it when you’re gruff and overbearing.”
They continued through the checkpoint and into the shop, though calling it a shop was an understatement. C. Babbage & Sons Emporium was actually a series of shops where one could find anything they needed to have the “real Victoriana experience.”
In Absinthia Page 2