by Angela White
“Are you here because I’m safe...boringly dependable?”
She didn’t answer.
Jeremy didn’t repeat the question.
Samantha refused to let the voice of guilt kill her good mood. “Should I go?”
Very distracted, Jeremy paused.
A tense silence fell in place of the keys clicking.
“Do my feelings even matter to you?” he finally asked.
Samantha winced at the mild slap. “Yes.”
“Then how can you do this?”
She didn’t have an answer that he would understand. “It’s complicated.”
Jeremy grunted. “You can’t settle down, but that’s all either of us want. Not so complicated–just hard to accept.”
He snapped the lid closed on the laptop and peered over to find her lids closed and shiny blonde curls blowing in the breeze.
Samantha didn’t sensor her annoyance. “From where I sit, you’re both expecting way too much from someone you’ve only known a few months. You guys may be sure I’m the one who fits your forever dream, but neither of you fit mine that way. Until you do, friends and lovers is all I can give.” She lay on the truck bed. “And frankly, it’s tiresome to keep saying that. Why don’t you just type and I’ll snooze in the breeze? We don’t have to talk.”
Jeremy started to send a stronger blow, but found he didn’t have the heart for it. She was right to want a match that suited her, but did she have to be so cruel about it?
“I have a shift or something,” he stated, unable to look away from her blowing curls. He wanted them tangled and wild, dripping sweat.
“Go on, then,” Sam agreed. “Call my shadows back or Seth won’t let me out again for a week.”
The thought of Samantha being in danger kept him sitting by her. That, and those curls. The kiss had been hot, but the sensation of silken hair against his skin–any of it–was one that could send him into a daze of need.
Sam felt his hot stare, but wasn’t ready to take things much further with him yet. While she had no moral issues with having more than one partner, she didn’t intend to slide into Jeremy’s bed just because he wanted it. She had to need it, too, and right now, the magic of Neil’s touch was still lingering–keeping her demons at bay. When it wore off, she’d find this laptop-toting genius and either break through his wall or end their friendship completely. The odds were 50/50.
Jeremy set the laptop aside, but didn’t leave. He stared at her for a long time, trying to find a solution, when all he wanted at that moment was to be close to her. The thought of her with Neil was a stinging wound, but a few minutes spent in her arms–with no talking–sounded right. Jeremy was ashamed of it.
Samantha slowly rolled onto her side, away from him, and Jeremy scowled at the attempt to draw him closer. The sight of her from this angle was incredible. “That is so unfair!”
Samantha was tired and didn’t waste any more quiet time trying to convince him. She allowed her mind to slow as she shifted her arm under her neck. “I need to be up in an hour.”
A bit uncomfortable, Sam quickly began to fade into a doze.
Jeremy tried to resist the feeling of manly protective pride at having her on his truck bed, vulnerable enough to sleep. It showed that she felt safe here, even when she knew he was upset with her. It also said Neil wasn’t enough or she would have done her duty check and left. Instead, she would sleep here, dream here, and he’d want to be with her even then.
Jeremy also hated himself for that. He didn’t want another competition with Neil. Neither of them could win, only be hurt by it and spread that disorder. He also welcomed it a bit. Even the war hadn’t shaken Jeremy from his guilt over his fiancé’s death. Only Samantha and her cornflower blue eyes had been able to accomplish that.
Sam shifted, clearly uncomfortable on the truck’s hard bed.
Jeremy glowered. “Damn you.”
Samantha adjusted again, this time to sleepily sweep her hair over one shoulder. It bared her neck and cleared the place behind her. If he wanted it.
Jeremy recognized the request and couldn’t refuse. It was where he longed to be and at this moment, an hour was longer than sixty minutes.
Jeremy didn’t climb in carefully to keep from spooking her or even out of respect. He took his time–determined to steal every sensation that he could. He sensed instinctively that sharing sleep with someone like Samantha might be more than just a nap.
“Power rubs off.”
Jeremy heard Angela’s words again, but instead of bringing up the wall that she was teaching them, Jeremy consciously tried to drop his mental defenses. He wanted to go where Samantha did. He wanted to explore her dreams so that he could make them a reality.
Samantha allowed his arm under her neck to provide a sexy cushion. His big body pressed tightly to hers, other hand coming to her hip to pull her closer, and Sam moaned in pleasure. “Nice.”
Jeremy tightened his grip in response. The wind blew her silken curl over his arm and cheek, and the Eagle faced the truth. She hadn’t asked him yet, but there was no point in denying it to himself until she did. It didn’t matter. Samantha could sleep with every man in this camp and he would still want her.
No longer fighting himself, Jeremy’s mind clicked out of the high gear it had been running in since seeing those entwined shadows on the tent wall. Sighing in miserable happiness, he let himself drift and enjoy holding her openly. He and Neil were officially sharing Samantha.
Jeremy’s last thought was to wonder how Neil would take the news. After a night with her, the trooper had likely assumed they were a couple, that her desire for other men was over. This sight would tell him otherwise.
3
“Everyone ready to put on a good show?”
Angela opened the flap without waiting for any of their half-hearted responses.
Kyle followed her in with the wheelchair as Kevin held the flap.
“We’ll get his pants and boots on, you’ll help him stand, and I’ll wrap him up tight. Let’s do it.”
Daryl waited by the flap as they worked. He was firmly on Kyle’s right now, but he still hadn’t managed to make that connection with their team that an XO needed. Everyone still missed Chris, himself included. As a result, Daryl was putting in the extra effort to stay close to his team leader and that meant helping with all the undercover work that the mobster did for the chain of command. It was exhausting.
Angela unhooked Adrian from the IV, and injected a small amount of emerald liquid into his tube. Almost immediately, the deep lines of pain running across his forehead eased a bit. His knuckles were still white from their grip on the sheet, though, and he stayed that way as they put on his pants and boots.
When they lifted him to pull the loose (Kenn’s) jeans over his hips, a small moan of agony escaped his lips, but it was the only sound he made.
They put arms under him, Angela slid the bed over, and then Adrian was on his feet. His face was pale as he steadied himself, clearly not in control. It was scary how different he was.
“Ready?” Angela asked, trying not to care.
Adrian braced himself as best as the drugs would allow, floating in a world of hurtful instinct. “Do it.”
An arm around each man’s shoulders, they leaned out of the way as Angela gently taped two flat, hard pillows to his stomach and hip. A minute later, they put the shirt on him and buttoned it.
Angela placed three green pills into the front pocket of the shirt. “You’ve already had the equivalent of one. Try to save these for when we bring you back and do surgery prep.”
Adrian let Kenn and Kyle help him into the padded wheelchair, but his attention stayed on Angela. “What else do you have for me?”
She held up a capped syringe. “An energy booster. It won’t last but ten minutes, so don’t linger.”
Adrian slowly captured a pill and Angela sat an opened can of Coke in his hand.
“Push him to the flap, let him hear what he’s about to face.”
Nearly every member of the camp was outside the caution tape. They were staring at the tent with needy, worried expressions that begged Adrian to come out and tell them where to sit and stand.
Adrian listened to snatches of the conversations that he could distinguish. Concern, prayers, hopeful murmurs. My people!
“They’re going to cross the tape when we go out. Let them,” Adrian ordered.
Angela could tell from his steady tone that his body had finally taken notice of the medication and was reacting accordingly. “Ready?”
“No, but do it anyway.”
She quickly injected him with the syringe. A few seconds later, they were outside, in view. A loud cheer split the air.
“Adrian!”
“It’s Adrian!”
“Yeah!”
Adrian gave a slow, carefree salute. “Take me to them.”
The crowd broke the tape as they surged forward and then Adrian was surrounded by his followers. He didn’t flinch from pats on the shoulder and he shook every hand put out to him.
“You okay?”
“You need anything?”
“I’m fine. They’re taking care of me so well that I’m almost ready to be alone again,” he joked.
“What about your hip?”
“Yeah! How bad is it?”
“Can you walk?”
Adrian blew out a breath that looked like mild annoyance to the crowd, and pain to Angela and the Eagles.
“The hip’s bad. I can walk if I have to, but the docs tell me I’ll heal fully if I stay off it. Guess I’ll have to listen to them since I always tell you guys to.” Adrian glanced around cheerfully. “Anyone got a smoke?”
Cynthia’s hand was the quickest and Angela was glad when the reporter ran block between the more aggressive people, using her small body for his protection.
“This is another thing they’re against. If not for the great service, I don’t think I’d want to bunk with them anymore,” Adrian quipped, drawing grins.
Angela saw his finger put an extra cigarette into his pocket and come up with something green that quickly vanished under the cover of a swallow of Coke. He was hurting enough to risk someone witnessing it.
One minute and I’m directing you along, Angela sent, not shoving energy into him like she wanted to. She would need it later and so would he.
“I hear there’s a party tonight. Everyone gonna get drunk, throw up, and spend all day whining about their hangover? It wouldn’t be a Safe Haven party without that.”
Angela observed the crowd that was already starting to break up, trying not to resent them for getting to go to a stress-free evening while Adrian fought for his life. She was also grateful that in all the confusion, the big question hadn’t been asked. No one wanted to know why they were having a celebration now, when most of the men who were heroes weren’t even out of the QZ.
“I’m gonna get a tray, folks,” Adrian said, though even the thought of eating was painful. He forced himself to give another of those larger than the sun grins, dazzling them one last time. “I would have had three beers, two burgers, and danced with all the single ladies. You guys handle that for me.”
They laughed again and it sounded relieved, relaxed. Adrian was fine to their unobservant eyes.
The Eagles wheeled Adrian toward the little mess. On the way, he took the last pill and closed his hand into a fist while he waited for it to take effect.
Neil hated Adrian’s pain as much as he had Angela’s. “Why don’t you go back and we’ll bring them…”
“No,” Adrian insisted.
The little mess was full of recovering Eagles and the scene of joking and calm was repeated, along with praise for following his orders.
“You men did a good job, you should be proud. We’ve taken hits and we don’t forget or treat it lightly, but we can sleep better knowing we eliminated another threat to our survival.”
The Coke can crackled loudly under his tightening grip.
Angela nodded to Kyle. “Let’s go.”
Kyle and Neil pushed the chair while Angela carried the tray. As they disappeared into the tent, Adrian’s energy ran out and the can fell from his hand. He sagged forward, succumbing to the bright glare.
Angela hurried to catch him before he could slide any further. “Get John! Then tell Marc we need the camp distracted now. We can’t wait any longer.”
4
“All yours,” Adrian muttered, fever climbing. “Lead them right.”
Angela and John exchanged worried looks over his body. Time had grown shorter.
“Let’s get started,” Angela instructed, bringing the witch forward as she and Anne assisted. If John missed any of the infection, the witch might catch it.
The silence was thick as John began administering the drugs that would put Adrian out of pain’s reach. Two of them flashed to the last surgery John had performed and Angela shoved her thought away. Her surviving Cesar had not been this trade, hadn’t put Adrian under the reaper’s dark shadow. Even fate wouldn’t be so cruel…right?
It took most of an hour to cut out the infection and cleanse the gaping wound. Smells of blood, disease, and decay hung thickly as it filled the tent and then their noses.
“Mm…”
“He’s coming up already.”
“Damn. He’s at the limit. Can you do anything?”
Angela slipped into Adrian’s fog-layered mind. The hum of power rose softly among the gore.
Angie?
Angela winced at the variation of her name that Adrian was always careful not to use aloud. Coming from his lips, it was a caress, an endearment between lovers.
I’m here. Stop trying to surface. John isn’t finished yet.
Angela heard the monitor settle into a calmer rhythm and went in a bit deeper. She remembered the fog of the medication and the sense of aloneness. Would you like me to stay a bit?
Adrian reached out through the white glare, mind scattered, thoughts ugly. Yes. I hate to be alone.
Angela clasped his hand tightly, heart picking up a beat. So do I.
Angela listened to the music and fireworks, to John’s mutters and the machine’s steady beeps, unaware that Adrian was laboring to show her something. He shoved an image at her, one he’d been hiding–even from himself.
Angela stared at the picture, resolutely memorizing every curve and line of the object Adrian had sworn he had no knowledge of.
“The witch says if you die, you kill us all.”
John blanched at Angela’s words, working as fast as he could. He held many concerns–about the strength of the infection and Angela’s energy levels–but the worst was the self-doubt. Conner’s weakened blood and Adrian’s depression notwithstanding, John didn’t think he was good enough to pull Adrian through this.
Anne knew John was stressing–the way he bit his lip under the surgical mask hadn’t changed in thirty years. She didn’t distract him, though. She would offer comfort later, when Adrian showed signs of improvement and John made the call on life or death.
Unlike the others, Anne had complete faith in Adrian’s recovery. The men might not understand what was going on in this camp, but Anne was clear. The human species was evolving and much like with any other life form being forced to change in order to survive; having only one mate wasn’t enough to ensure extinction wouldn’t come within a few generations. Angela and Adrian were close–anyone could tell that–but Anne knew it ran deeper. If anything happened to Brady, Angela would go to Adrian. It wasn’t like Samantha, where the urges were driving her to have more than one partner. Angela and Adrian’s connection went further. If Marc weren’t in the picture, theirs would be a love match.
About Seth and Becky, Anne hadn’t decided yet. Teenagers were unpredictable when it came to matters of the heart. She was reserving judgement on that situation, but Anne didn’t think any of it would matter in the end. Evolving wouldn’t be enough against the government. Safe Haven’s power was a serious threat to the remain
ing authority and when they came, nothing would stand.
5
“Where is she?”
“In the medical camper. She said she needed to lie down for a couple minutes,” Kevin explained quietly. “I didn’t like how she looked.”
Marc walked faster, waving Kevin off when he would have followed him inside. “I know what she needs.”
Kevin took up a post outside the door and kept his ears open for any sign that he needed to call John.
Marc found her curled onto the small couch, nearly invisible under a stack of jackets.
When she smiled and her teeth began to chatter, he scooped her into his arms and dropped back down, holding her on his lap. “You’re empty, right?”
Angela slumped against his big chest, resisting the urge to inhale deeply. “I don’t want to.”
She sounded like a petulant child and Marc burst out laughing.
Angela couldn’t even summon the energy to adjust the slightly uncomfortable position. “Sleep, Brady. Just an hour.”
Marc shifted so that he could see her pale face “Meeting’s in half that, honey.”
She groaned weakly and Marc forced her hand. He talked directly to the witch.
Take what you need, but nothing more. You don’t need her permission if you have mine.
Marc stiffened as the witch greedily sucked at him.
Angela snapped their connection, gasping at the need fluttering in her veins. “Not in control now, Brady. Sleep!”
Marc wasn’t worried–the witch didn’t want him dead. But she did want him…
Marc leaned forward to deliver a slow kiss and felt the witch start drawing while Angela was distracted. After a minute of the blinding heat, Marc didn’t care how much energy was taken, so long as they weren’t interrupted.
Kevin, once he identified the noises, made sure that they weren’t.
6
Neil stared at the sleeping couple with a blank face and a breaking heart. Only napping together, it was more intimate than if they were naked.