Awaken the Darkness

by Dianne Duvall

  She moaned and arched into him.

  He was so hard for her. Every time she rocked against him, pleasure shot through him, heightening his need. He kneaded her breast, tweaked the hardened nipple through her shirt.

  More, she pleaded mentally, sliding her hands down to grip his ass and urge him on.

  Stanislav’s control began to fray. He needed her so damned badly. He wished they weren’t in such a shitty motel room. She deserved better than to be taken here in this seedy dive. But he’d make it up to her. As soon as his memory returned, he’d…

  He froze. Harsh reality came crashing down, landing on him like a bucket of ice water. Swearing, he released her breast and planted both hands on the wall to either side of her. But he couldn’t bring himself to move away. Not yet.

  Tearing his lips from hers, he dropped his head forward and rested it on her shoulder. His breath came in gasps. His whole body trembled.

  “Stan?” she questioned breathlessly.

  Even something as simple as her speaking his name made him want her. What the hell was he doing? He might be married. Or engaged. He didn’t think he was, but he couldn’t make love to Susan without knowing for sure whether or not he was committed to someone else.

  A growl of frustration rumbled up from his chest as he curled his hands into fists.

  “Stanislav?” Susan repeated breathlessly. He could hear her heart thudding wildly in her breast and felt her confusion over his abrupt withdrawal.

  The desire that tightened her nipples and drove her to rock against him tempted him to abandon all honor and claim her.

  Pushing away from the wall, he instead turned and strode away from her, needing to put some distance between them and regain a little clarity. “Why the hell can’t I remember?” he snarled, frustration battering him once more. Cool air embraced his overheated body but did little to quell his lust or keep anger from rising within him.

  Susan remained silent, her breaths uneven. But he felt understanding replace her confusion.

  Felt, too, her arousal and badly wanted to satisfy it.

  “My body is healed now. I’ve rested. I’ve eaten.” He gripped his forehead, then slid his hands down his face. “This isn’t fair to either one of us. I need to remember. Why can’t I remember?” The last emerged in almost a shout.

  Quiet settled upon the room, broken only by their jagged breaths.

  Susan stared at Stanislav, both grateful that he had found the strength to pull away (a strength she herself had lacked) and regretting it at the same time. Her body still burned with the fire he’d stoked. Her gaze kept straying to the large bulge in his pants. But Stanislav looked positively tormented. And the need to comfort him overrode all else.

  When she spoke, she did so gently, uncertain of his response. “Have you thought that maybe it isn’t so much that you can’t remember now but rather that you don’t want to?”

  Frowning, he turned to face her. “What?”

  “I’ve heard that sometimes people—particularly those who have experienced something traumatic—don’t remember parts of their past not because they’re physically unable to but because some part of them can’t accept it and won’t let them remember.”

  He shook his head. “Why would I not want to remember?” A second later, he grunted. Pressing the heels of his hands to his temples, he staggered a step to one side.

  Hurrying forward, she steadied him. “Stan? Are you okay?”

  Eyes closed, he nodded. “It was just a quick pain. It’s already fading.”

  “Did you remember something?”

  “Just the same battle. Men firing automatic weapons. Explosions. Nothing more.”

  She hugged him, running her hands up and down his back. “It’s okay,” she soothed.

  “No, it isn’t,” he whispered, embracing her. “I can’t move forward until I know what’s behind me.” He sighed. “And I can’t protect you. Not without knowing—”

  “You protected me very well,” she protested, looking up at him.

  He shook his head. “You know this isn’t over, Susan. I need to remember who I am, who I can trust, so I can take you someplace truly safe.”

  She felt a rhythmic movement and glanced down. He was turning his battered cell phone over and over in his hand. She hadn’t realized until then that he had kept it with him, his only link—broken though it might be—to his past.

  She stepped back. “I have an idea.”

  He cast her a questioning look.

  “I want to try something. But you have to do exactly what I say, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  The ease and speed with which he answered, his willingness to put his trust in her, sent a rush of emotion through her. “I’m going to ask you a question,” she said, tamping it down. “I don’t want you to think before you answer it. I don’t want you to growl in frustration. I don’t want you to do anything but respond instantly. Okay?”

  Tilting his head to one side, he studied her. “Okay.”

  Susan crossed to her purse and retrieved her cell phone. Returning to stand in front of him, she held it out to him. “I mean it,” she reiterated as he tucked his broken phone back in a pocket and took hers. “Don’t think. Just respond.”

  “All right.”

  “Those men at the house were just the tip of the iceberg. More are on the way.” She saw no way Henry’s friends could possibly locate them but continued nonetheless. “They’ve tracked us here. They’re surrounding the motel right now and are armed with automatic weapons. They want to capture you. And if they think like Henry did when he first started clomping up the stairs to look for me, they will rape and kill me without a second thought. We don’t have a hope in hell of getting out of here alive on our own. What number do you call to secure my safety?”

  His thumb sped over the surface of the cell phone, dialing a number.

  Her eyes flew wide.

  His did, too.

  “Holy crap,” she blurted. “It worked!” Grabbing the phone, she raised it to her ear.

  “Hello?” a male voice answered.

  “Hi,” she greeted him, then wondered what the hell she should say. She hadn’t really expected it to work. “Um, you don’t know me…”

  Stanislav winced.

  I know. I know, she said mentally. “But—”

  “Who is this?” The abrupt interruption offered no welcome. “How did you get my number?”

  Susan thought it might be better if Stanislav talked to the man to see if his voice would spark a memory, but when she offered him the phone, he shook his head. “Okay,” she said in a rush, making it up as she went along. “I know this is going to sound weird. But my name is Susan and I think my dog found your wallet.”

  Stanislav stared at her. Really? You couldn’t come up with anything better than that?

  She grimaced. Apparently I suck at subterfuge. Don’t you think you should talk to him yourself?

  He shook his head. Until I remember who I am and know whom I can trust, I want everyone to believe I’m still buried in your basement.

  “I’m not missing my wallet,” the man said, either caution or suspicion entering his voice.

  “Oh. Okay. Well, my dog chewed it up pretty good. There wasn’t much left by the time he brought it home and I pried it out of his mouth. No driver’s license or other ID. I don’t even know where he found it. All I could salvage was some cash and this number written on a folded piece of paper.”

  Silence.

  “Honestly, I felt weird calling you,” she babbled on, trying to keep the guy on the line. He was their only lead. “I mean, who carries their own number around with them in their wallet, right? But… I don’t know. I just thought it was worth a shot. It’s kind of a lot of cash, so I thought whoever owned the wallet would probably be anxious to get it back.”

  More silence. Then: “The wallet has nothing else in it? Just my number and some cash?”

  “Yes.”

  Stanislav arched a brow.

/>   She shrugged. Who in today’s society will turn down an opportunity to get their hands on a wad of free cash?

  True.

  “I wouldn’t feel right about keeping it without at least trying to find who it belongs to,” she said when the silence stretched.

  “Where can I meet you?” the man asked, his voice clipped. “It isn’t mine, but I may be able to tell you who it belongs to and help you get in touch with him.”

  She grinned in triumph. “Great. Let’s see. Um…” He wants to meet me.

  Not here, Stanislav instructed. And not at your home.

  Susan agreed. Somewhere public, right? Lots of people around?

  No, he said, surprising her. Someplace isolated. I don’t want any witnesses and want to be able to see him coming if he brings friends.

  Well, hell. That sounded grim. “Where are you now?” she asked, thinking furiously.

  “Carrboro.”

  “That’s quite a drive.” Not really. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we meet halfway?” She named a place out in the country that hosted a farmers’ market every weekend but was deserted on weekdays. It was located mere minutes from where she and Stanislav were now and at least forty minutes from Carrboro.

  “Sounds good,” he said.

  “Could you maybe come alone?” she added hesitantly. “I’m not in the habit of calling total strangers—men in particular—and arranging to meet them. You know how it is. A girl can’t be too careful.”

  “Sure,” he agreed. “I’ll come alone. See you in an hour?”

  Is an hour good? she asked Stanislav.

  He glanced at the window, then nodded.

  “Sure. See you then.” She ended the call. “Well, he’s not very friendly, but that’s about all I can tell you.” She clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh crap! I didn’t get his name.”

  “It doesn’t matter. His number wouldn’t have been in my head if I didn’t have a connection to him. Let’s just hope he’s someone I can trust and not in league with whoever stabbed me in the back and stuck me in the ground.”

  Dismay filled her. “Do you mean figuratively or literally? Did someone stab you in the back?”

  He looked as though he regretted mentioning it. “I’m not sure. That’s what the wound in my back felt like, but I couldn’t see it well in the mirror.”

  Susan wondered if—one of these days—he would grow tired of her gaping up at him.

  “What?” he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as though uncomfortable beneath her regard.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Are you getting any gut feelings about this guy?”

  “Only the one that made me dial his number. He must have been someone I trusted at one time.”

  “But you don’t now?”

  “I can’t. Not until I remember how I ended up so badly wounded where you found me. You’ve seen how strong I am, Susan. How fast I can move. Do you really think an enemy could have gotten the jump on me without a little assistance?”

  She hadn’t thought of it like that. It was a valid point. “No. I’m still hoping he’s a friend though. You need someone you can trust.”

  Smiling, he touched her cheek. “I already have someone I trust. You.”

  She clasped his wrist and turned her head, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Flirt.”

  He winked. “Just wait until I confirm I’m not married. Then I’ll take flirting to a whole new level.”

  “Hell yes, you will,” she declared.

  He laughed. “Let’s go ahead and hit the road. I want to get there before he does.”

  Stanislav stood in the shadows of the evergreen trees that crowded together fifty yards from the designated meeting place. Susan had done an excellent job choosing it.

  Just off the intersection of a couple of two-lane roads, a large patch of asphalt stretched where a structure had once stood. A store perhaps. He wasn’t sure since not even a skeleton of the building remained. Everything but the cement foundation and the gravel parking lot was long gone. Now the plot served as a gathering place for a farmers’ market that Susan said sprang up every weekend.

  He glanced around. There was nothing else for miles. No houses. No places of business. Just fields boasting thigh-high weeds and a crooked border of trees. Very little traffic traveled the roads. Only a handful of cars had passed in the forty-five minutes they had been there. None had spared Susan’s car a second glance.

  If he doesn’t get here soon, I’m going to fall asleep, Susan grumbled.

  He loved hearing her voice in his head even when she was cranky.

  The thought made him smile. I’ve been keeping you up too late.

  Not really, she replied. I’ve always been a night owl. I just haven’t been sleeping late the way I usually do.

  And had had one scare after another whilst awake.

  Did I mention I’m still sore from digging your handsome ass up?

  He laughed.

  It was totally worth it, of course, she went on. But if we find out you’re single, I might hit you up for a nice long massage.

  He cursed when his body immediately responded to the image of her naked and laid out before him, waiting for him to run his hands all over her body. Now who’s flirting?

  Ooh, she purred. That’s so cool. Even in your thoughts, your voice deepens and gets all growly when you’re turned on. Before he could respond, she made a sound of impatience. Damn it. Now I’m turned on.

  He laughed, delighted that she inspired him to do so even in such grim circumstances.

  Stanislav caught the sound of another vehicle approaching from the east. This one began to slow down long before the driver caught sight of Susan’s car. Heads up. He’s here.

  He felt the spike of fear that shot through her and regretted anew thrusting her into the middle of all this. It’s okay, he told her. I won’t let him hurt you.

  I know, she said, exhibiting no doubt. Would you take away my fear, please? I don’t want it to hinder things.

  He did so in an instant.

  Thank you.

  Thank you for doing this. She had really gone above and beyond for him.

  A sleek black Tesla Model X slowed, then pulled into the gravel parking lot.

  Susan stepped out of her economy car.

  Leave the door open, he instructed her. If shit goes down, dive in and get the hell out of Dodge.

  Yeah, like I’d leave you here to deal with him alone.

  Though day had not yet yielded to night, the sun had dipped low enough to hide behind the tall trees to the west. So if Susan needed him, he wouldn’t roast while coming to her aid.

  She frowned. What do you mean, roast?

  He swore. He had forgotten to hide that particular thought.

  Stan? she prodded. What do you mean, roast? Does the sun harm you in some way?

  It’s just a minor photosensitivity I discovered I have, he told her as the Model X’s engine quieted. Roasting was an exaggeration. Stay sharp.

  The driver’s door opened and a man stepped out.

  Stanislav studied him.

  He was about six feet tall with an athletic build and closely cropped dark brown hair. His clothing was nearly identical to Stanislav’s: black cargo pants, a black T-shirt, and heavy black boots. Only he wore a black leather jacket as well.

  He seemed familiar. But when he sparked no memories, Stanislav wondered if perhaps the sense of recognition wasn’t simply because they were dressed alike.

  The man studied Susan, then examined their surroundings.

  Stanislav had a feeling those sharp eyes missed nothing.

  Well, nothing except Stanislav, who stood in deep shadows that camouflaged him.

  What’s he thinking? he asked Susan.

  He’s wondering if I really came alone. Do you remember him?

  No.

  “Susan?” the man inquired.

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “Either you’re incredibly naïve or this is a setup.
No woman in her right mind would arrange to meet a strange man in the middle of the sticks where no one will come to her aid if she needs it.”

  “Will I need it?” she asked, deadly calm since Stanislav was suppressing her fear.

  He lifted one shoulder in a faint shrug. “Depends on whether you’re from column A or column B.”

  “How about column C?”

  He arched a brow. “What’s column C?”

  “Someone who simply found something that doesn’t belong to her.”

  I belong to you, Stanislav couldn’t resist countering.

  Her lips twitched as she rounded the driver’s door and cautiously walked forward. Let’s just make sure you’re single first, cowboy.

  If he weren’t so concerned about her, he would’ve laughed. Not too far, he cautioned, wanting her to remain close enough to seek shelter in the vehicle if necessary.

  “I don’t believe you mentioned your name when we spoke on the phone,” she said.

  “Alexei Mikhailov.”

  An emotion Stanislav couldn’t identify rippled through him at the sound of the name, kicking up his heartbeat a bit.

  Alexei slowly approached Susan, his eyes constantly skirting the fields and trees around them.

  Susan extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Alexei shook it. “Let’s hope so. Where’s this wallet you mentioned?”

  “Actually…” Susan drew Stanislav’s cell phone from her back pocket. “I didn’t find a wallet. I found this.” She held it out to Alexei.

  Stanislav felt a surge of suspicion strike Alexei. Did he think the phone confirmed it a trap? Or did he fear his part in Stanislav’s being wounded and buried alive had been unearthed?

  “Whose phone is it?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me,” Susan said.

  Alexei scanned their surroundings once more before taking the phone from her. Birds twittered while he examined the shattered screen. “Where did you say you found this?”

  “My dog brought it to me. He found it while he was out exploring.”

  “Where?”

  “Near my home. Why? Do you know who it belongs to?”

  Alexei turned the phone over. He started to shake his head, then froze as he examined the damaged casing.