Allie's War Season Three

by JC Andrijeski

  But I didn't have long to think about that, either.

  I'd expected there to be a car waiting for us, since we couldn't exactly walk around the city incognito and our clothes would only make us more conspicuous, not less...but I hadn't really expected it to be a limo. I couldn't help laughing when the driver opened the door for me.

  "Really?" I said, glancing at Revik. "You didn't have to do this, you know."

  He just smiled, not answering until he'd already followed me into the back seat of the white car.

  "I seem to remember getting lucky with you in limos in the past," he said. When I laughed, his voice dropped to a near murmur in my ear. "Seriously. Is it too much?"

  I shook my head, smiling at him, but still oddly nervous. When I turned my head, his face was still only a few inches from mine. He was looking at the dress again, his eyes a bit more predatory that time.

  When he glanced up, I laughed more openly that time, and he smiled.

  "Too much?" I said.

  He shook his head, looking me over once more, his expression unreadable that time.

  I bit my lip, realizing again he really might not tell me if he liked the dress or not. The Syrimne version of him had been the only one to really lavish me with compliments, and he'd probably been the most superficial of all the versions of Revik I'd known...or the crudest anyway. He certainly had a more idealized image of me...and of us...that made it harder to take his words seriously. In any case, the compliments hadn't really hit their mark with me a lot of the time.

  This version reminded me more of the old Revik...the one who only complimented me once, as far as I could remember, and that time, he'd been trying to get me into bed. Getting compliments out of that Revik had been like getting blood out of a stone. Most of the time, I didn't mind, but at times like this, it could make me a little paranoid.

  I could tell he didn't hate it. He was probably just relieved I didn't look like a Lao Hu prostitute.

  I did my best to look out the window, to try and guess where we were going, when he leaned closer to me, kissing my throat. He did it slowly, putting light into his tongue so that my brain stuttered, despite the caution I still felt from his light. He took my hand in the same moment, caressing my fingers through the glove as he looked down at my satin-clad arm. I saw the driver glance at us in the mirror and smile. It occurred to me in the same instant that I knew him...or recognized him, anyway. He was another of Wreg's new recruits.

  "Can we really go to a restaurant like this?" I said. "With our real faces, I mean? Isn't that kind of risky? We're still wanted criminals, after all..."

  "I think it will be okay," he said. He smiled at me vaguely, glancing up from where he'd been tracing my gloved wrist with his fingers. His touch remained soft, as if he were tasting my light as much as my skin through the thin material, but it was distracting as hell.

  "Where are we going?" I said, knowing he probably wouldn't answer.

  Smiling faintly, he just shook his head.

  "You're really not going to tell me?" I said, smiling at the look in his eyes. "But we're already in the car..."

  "I'm not sure if I've made up my mind yet," he said. He caressed my gloved fingers lightly again before leaning closer to murmur against my ear. "Gods, Alyson. I'm not sure if I'm going to make it through dinner..."

  I laughed, looking up at him again. "Meaning what?"

  He motioned, seer-fashion, towards my clothes, his hand resting briefly where the dress cut in at my waist. His eyes turned predatory again, right before I felt a coil of pain leave his light, seeming to wrap around and into my skin, and down my legs. That one was a lot less subtle. My light opened in response, enough that his expression tightened. His fingers gripped my waist a little harder, just before light left his hand, pulsing against me again, reminding me of what he'd done to me that morning in his old room, trying to get me to lose control.

  By the time he eased up with his light and the shiver of pain had finished passing through, I found myself struggling a bit to hold his gaze.

  "I thought you wanted to wait," I said, my voice lower.

  He didn't look up from the dress. "Rethinking that right now, wife," he said, his voice distracted. "Wreg and the others have bets...he was giving me shit about it as soon as he saw you. Kept saying, 'good luck, brother'...and 'see you on the other side'..." Revik grunted, his eyes still on the dress. "Bastards."

  I laughed. "Well, it's your fault. You should never have told them."

  "I didn't," he said, looking up briefly. "I didn't tell them anything, Allie. Wreg could tell I hadn't had much sex yet...he and Jax started the bet. I think it's on the likelihood of one of us giving the other an orgasm before we make it back to the hotel."

  I rolled my eyes, but bit my lip, flushing a little. "Bunch of gambling addicts."

  "Supposedly some of them went down to see your dress...changed the odds in your favor, I'm sorry to say."

  "My favor?" I said, laughing again as I shoved at his leg. "How is it my favor?"

  "I'm afraid you've been cast in the role of temptress, my dear..."

  Clicking, I rolled my eyes. "It's that dumb Lao Hu dress thing again, isn't it? They all think I'm just messing with you...getting my kicks walking around half-naked just to screw with your head." When he only smiled, caressing my collarbone briefly with a finger as he gazed down at the corset around my upper body, I averted my gaze. "This was your idea, remember? To go all formal and fancy for the night?"

  He shrugged, but when I glanced over, his eyes were on the dress once more. I saw pain touch his eyes that time, even as he fingered the fabric around one of my upper arms.

  "But I'm not naked, right?" I said, smiling at him.

  His eyes remained on the dress. "Not naked...but seriously asking to be."

  "So you like it, then?" I said.

  He glanced up. Meeting my gaze, he nodded. "I like it, Allie. A little too much, I think."

  I nodded back, smiling slightly. "Good. You look pretty amazing yourself."

  "Amazing, huh?"

  At his smile, I let out a short laugh. "Yes, husband...a little too amazing, to tell you the truth. If your goal was to give me a heart attack about all the women who will be drooling over you all evening, you've definitely succeeded..."

  He leaned back against the leather seat, sliding an arm lightly around my waist before he ran his fingers through his hair. After another short pause, he gave me a sideways look, still smiling faintly. "Speaking of compliments, and lack thereof...I don't think you've ever complimented me before, wife...not once. Not about my appearance, anyway. I've heard more compliments from you on Balidor's looks than mine. Even Wreg's..."

  "Never?" I frowned. "That can't be right."

  "Pretty sure it is."

  I shook my head.

  "Okay," he said, still watching my face. "Remind me, then."

  I stared at him, fighting to answer his words. At first I was sure he must be wrong. I thought over all the times we'd been alone together, when I'd noticed his looks or something he'd done, when I'd had trouble not touching him...when we'd been in bed together, and even when we'd been friends before all of that. I wouldn't have complimented him on the ship...back then, things with us were way too awkward already. I wasn't even sure he liked me much as a person, much less whether he had any interest in me beyond that. I couldn't remember complimenting him at the cabin, either...or that whole time we were at the rebel compound in the mountains. I'd complimented him on his sight, especially the telekinesis, but not on his looks.

  "Wow," I said finally. "I'm a lousy wife."

  He laughed, caressing the back of my neck. "You make up for it in other ways."

  "Do lustful thoughts count?"

  He smiled, caressing my neck again. "Sure. Those can count."

  I watched his face when he leaned his head back on the seat. He didn't look angry. In fact, he was still smiling at me faintly, his hand caressing my hip where he had his arm around my waist.

 
"I was teasing, Allie," he said, when I continued to look at him.

  "No, you weren't," I said, clicking at him softly. Shifting closer to him on the long, leather seat, I slid most of the way onto his lap, winding my gloved arms around his neck. Seeing surprise flicker across his expression, I curled my fingers into his shorter hair, fighting not to tug on it as I leaned my mouth by his ear. "You really do look amazing," I told him, kissing his ear. Swallowing embarrassment, I shrugged, leaning against his chest. "I think you're the sexiest guy on the planet, Revik...I have pretty much since I met you."

  He laughed, looking up at me when I raised my head. "Now you're just trying to shut me up. Or get me so distracted I don't hear anything you say..."

  I shook my head, rubbing his collar with my finger to make sure I hadn't left a lipstick mark.

  He clicked at me, but softly. "I don't need compliments, Allie. I was teasing you...I promise."

  "I know you don't need them," I said, still avoiding his eyes as my mouth firmed. I shrugged, fighting embarrassment again when I added, "I get turned on just being in the same room as you...even when I should be thinking about other things. Life or death things. You're a huge distraction for me, really..."

  "Am I?"

  "Yes," I said, nodding seriously.

  He shifted a little under me, his fingers tightening on my back.

  "Am I bothering you, telling you all this?" I said.

  He shook his head.

  I slid my arms further around his neck. "Well, clearly, I suck at giving compliments." I tugged at his shorter hair, letting my light merge more into his. "...And you suck at receiving them. Even more than me."

  He laughed, squeezing his arm around my back.

  "You're probably right," he said. He shifted under me again, meeting my gaze. His accent worsened when he next spoke. "Even if we are both terrible at doing this thing, you had better stop complimenting me anyway, wife. I really would like to make it through dinner. I'd like to make it out of this car, for that matter..."

  I clicked at him, but I didn't move from his lap, or take my arms from around his neck. Neither of us laughed that time either, I noticed, mostly because he wasn't entirely joking; I could see it in his eyes...he was already turned on. It wasn't exactly helping me with my resolution not to pull at him all night. I was already doing it, sitting sideways on his thighs as my light pooled into his, tugging on his belly and groin. I was pretty sure he had an erection, too, but more than a small part of me wanted to confirm that, either with my hand or with some other part of my body.

  "Gaos, Alyson..." Looking away that time, he laid his hands cautiously on my hips. Before I could think around my embarrassment, he began pushing me gently off his lap. "Shield your thoughts, wife...please..."

  "Sorry," I said, reddening more.

  I tried to do as he asked, fighting to pull back my light and sliding off his legs when he urged me with his hands. I sat next to him on the seat again, taking his hand when he offered it. I couldn't help noticing he wore my father's ring. I stroked his palm for a moment, twisting the ring on his finger. I felt that affecting him, too, along with my fingers caressing his wrist. His eyes closed briefly where he focused out the window.

  "I am sorry," I repeated.

  "It's all right." His voice was slightly rough, but when I looked at him again, he was staring out the window, his expression difficult to read.

  "You did say I could touch you as much as I wanted tonight," I reminded him.

  He smiled, glancing at me. For an instant, that predatory look returned to his eyes.

  "I did, didn't I?" he said. "...When you were molesting me in that control room. Maybe I should rethink that offer..."

  "You can take it back altogether, if you want," I said.

  Still smiling faintly, he shook his head, once more gazing out the window.

  I followed his gaze, and realized suddenly that we were all the way downtown, nearly to the financial district. I couldn't keep the puzzled look off my face as the limo wound around a few more streets, then began cruising up Fifth Avenue once more.

  "Are we driving in circles?" I asked him.

  "Is that all right?"

  "Sure...are we early or something?"

  He gestured a yes with one hand, smiling at me faintly again. I saw the secret there in his eyes, but had no idea what to make of it. I knew bugging him about it would be useless, so when he offered me a glass of champagne, I took it with only a nod, leaning back in the seat and holding his hand. Both of us looked out the window then, sipping champagne in fluted glasses and watching the buildings and people pass by.

  We didn't talk again until we reached our destination.

  I still couldn't puzzle out exactly where he was taking me. We weren't by any of the theaters, and Jon implied something like a play might be happening when he mentioned him and Revik talking over details. Instead, the limo cruised by the park again, on the Upper East Side. We weren't near the theater that lived in the park itself...and anyway, I was pretty sure it was the wrong time of year for that theater, or at the very least the wrong weather, unless they covered it to compensate for fall and winter storms. It rained earlier that day, and although the sky seemed to be clear again, clear enough that there would probably be stars if any could be seen through the wash of lights from the buildings, the ground was still wet.

  We turned off Fifth Avenue and onto one of the roads that led into the park itself. I found myself looking around to see if we drove on the same road where we'd surfaced from the sewers after the bank job. I didn't catch the street sign, but I was pretty sure it wasn't. I'd seen the car pass the Met already, which told me that we'd already ventured further uptown.

  Within a few minutes of passing through the lamp-lit road and the dark trees, the limousine pulled into a circular driveway that led directly to a glass-covered building awash in lights.

  Small, white lights clustered in the trees and bushes at the main entrance, but through the windows and glass front doors, I saw green lights inside, making it look somewhere between an old-style glass atrium, an enormous greenhouse and a Christmas ornament. The outline of the glass building, along with the white lights in the trees and shrubs, reminded me more of a German town square than the average American home during the holidays. All in all, the scene looked otherworldly, an odd mixture of old and new, and nestled among the trees of the park. I knew a few famous restaurants lived in the park, but it still caught me off guard when the car began to slow.

  "Dinner?" I asked, glancing back at Revik.

  He made a 'more or less' sign with one hand, smiling again faintly.

  By then, the car had rolled to a stop. The driver got out, walking briskly to my side door. Opening it, he offered me a hand that I almost missed seeing as I stepped out onto the still-wet path under the trees. He helped me out of the car and then stood aside for Revik to get out behind me. I noticed that the paving stones in front of the restaurant were wet, too, along with most of the walk. The rain had died down over an hour before, so I couldn't help smiling when the driver shielded my hair with an umbrella.

  Revik took my arm and the driver bowed, leaving us to walk the rest of the way up the narrow path towards the lit glass building.

  "How are we going to push all of these people?" I asked him softly.

  He smiled, glancing at me. "You only thought to ask that now?"

  "I was figuring dark, hole-in-the-wall type restaurant...you know, small. Like we push the waiter and anyone who walked by. Or maybe a dark theater, entered after the show began..."

  He clicked softly, glancing around at the lit windows, and the shadowy trees behind the main building. "It should be pretty much the same thing here."

  "Really?" I said, my voice skeptical. "How do you figure?"

  He didn't answer, but gave me another of those sideways smiles as he led me inside. I didn't see him push the man who greeted us at the door, but he must have...right before he gave our names as Marion and Thomas Dillinger, which I mig
ht have thought was cute, if I wasn't staring at the surveillance cameras embedded in the walls.

  "Revik..." I muttered, nudging his mind in the same direction.

  "Already taken care of," he assured me in an answering murmur. "Jorag and some of the others cased the place a few hours ago...whoever's watching on the other side, they'll see pirated feeds all night."

  "Are they hanging out in the bushes, too, watching us now?" I said.

  He laughed a little. "Maybe one or two."

  I rolled my eyes. "You are such a liar. You said you'd convinced Balidor not to stalk us all night. I might as well have invited Jon..."

  "'Dori's not out there," he said, giving me a mock-offended look. "Anyway, I had to be realistic. They promised not to bother us." At my second eye-roll, he tugged on my arm. "...It was this or dinner in the restaurant of the hotel. Or in the penthouse..." He glanced down at my dress, clicking softly. "...Which really wouldn't have been terrible, all things considered."

  Snorting, I followed him up a darkened stairway to the left of the main door.

  It wasn't until then that it occurred to me that we had entered through the back of the building, not the front. The man who'd greeted us had said he'd been waiting for us, but it wasn't until I could hear the murmur of voices and clink of glasses on the lower floor as we ascended the stairs that I realized just how far the restaurant extended back into the trees. We still hadn't even seen the main dining area, and from the rise of sounds as we reached the second floor, I could tell it wasn't small.

  I also realized what he'd meant, about a darkened restaurant and a darkened theater rolled into one. The staircase led to a circular corridor broken evenly by curtained doorways ringing the right side as we continued to walk left. I immediately thought of box seats for a theater, even though I'd never actually been in one myself. The curtained areas seemed to go on forever as we walked, until finally, the waiter, or maitre d', or whatever he was, stopped and motioned us towards one of those dark red openings.