Butterfly Ops

by Jen Doyle

  He was driving into her—harder as he heard her gasp, as he saw her lose her focus for just a second before she forced herself to come back to him. Trembling became quaking, and an unbearable flash of fire overtook him. She smiled as he spilled into her, crying out and forcing himself to keep from collapsing until her hands went to his face and she pulled him down into a frenzied, unfocused kiss, her body finally reacting, releasing; not losing the connection with him until she became still and let her hands slip away.

  There were tears in her eyes when she looked back, probably because her hair was threaded through his fingers, tangled and pulled much too tight. “Sorry,” he said after a minute. He would have said more, but at the moment, he wasn’t sure he was capable of it.

  “It wasn’t exactly fair of me,” she said as he disentangled his hand. “I kind of pulled out all the stops.”

  “Uh… yeah.” Fuck yeah. He shifted so that he was no longer on top of her. “I noticed.” And he was going to thank her. As soon as he could breathe again.

  “Bet you didn’t think I remembered that.” She rolled onto her side, her head even with his. “By the way, I am so much better at that than Tessa ever was.”

  “The stripping?” No complaints here, he thought as she grinned, looking plenty pleased with herself. Which she should; he was plenty pleased with her himself. Although he really didn’t want to be talking about Tessa right now.

  He leaned over and kissed her. “That was…?”

  Jesus.

  Watching the warrior be tamed, watching her fight for control. “…Intense.”

  Her face got serious and she looked away.

  Began to pull away.

  What the hell?

  “It was supposed to be, wasn’t it?” He put his hand to her chin and gently turned her head back towards him. “Lyndsey…?”

  She hesitated, looking into his eyes as though she was searching for something, as though she didn’t quite trust him. Given his track record, he couldn’t entirely blame her. “I swear I will never try and break up with you again.”

  She smiled—the kind of smile that said, That’s sweet, but not at all what I’m getting at here. Turning away again, it was a few minutes before she finally said, “We’re not just about the sex, right?”

  Sitting up, she put her arms around her knees. Her hand fell to the sleeping bag and she began playing with the material. “I mean… This thing we have going—it’s different this time.” Looking at him again, her eyes practically pleading, she added, “We’re so much more than what we were, aren’t we?”

  So that’s what this was all about. There had been something more she’d been thinking about all day. Sitting up, he murmured the phrase Joe had said to her. “True love.”

  Her gaze was solemn. “At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, I just…” Her eyes returned to the sleeping bag, now examining what seemed to be an incredibly interesting zipper. “I’ve never quite felt this way before. This…” She shrugged. “…Strong.”

  He stared at her, a little bit in shock, despite having this conversation with himself less than half an hour before. Even with everything she’d said that night a week before, he knew how much it meant for her to be thinking this, much less actually saying it. Saying it about him.

  True Love. Hell, Ian was still having to remind himself she hadn’t been with Zachary for the whole year after he left—for the sixteen years since.

  She was watching him, waiting for him to respond. Looking quite apprehensive, in fact.

  And that was even more stunning, the part he hadn’t yet fully accepted: she was truly worried about what he would say. “Lyndsey…” He held his hand out to her. She visibly relaxed as she took it. “Yes. This is different.” He could feel the heat rise to his face. “And I’m not just saying this because…” How to put it exactly?

  “Because that was one of the best sexual experiences of your life?” she finished for him, a wicked look in her eye.

  Well, uh… Yes. He grinned. “Do you want to keep talking? Or would you rather I show my appreciation?”

  Laying back and reaching out for him, she smiled and said, “Appreciate away.”

  “Lyndsey…” Ian reached out and shook her shoulder gently, trying to wake her up. It was the middle of the night—03:12, to be exact—and they were both pretty tired out. This was worth it, though; he shook her a little bit harder.

  “Mmm?” Her eyes were still closed as she turned to Ian and burrowed into his chest.

  “Lyndsey, come on. You need to see this.”

  She reluctantly cocked open an eye. “See what?”

  He lifted his chin, indicating she should look out the tent’s opening, up at the sky.

  She turned her head, sitting up suddenly as the sky erupted into blue and green, red and purple. Streaks of light flashed like dozens of shooting stars. “Ian…” She scrambled for her clothes, muttering something about Zachary usually giving her some warning when something like this was about to happen...

  Ian couldn’t deny he got a little caught up in the moment—okay, yes, instantly hard—as the warrior within her suddenly appeared, her hair wild and her eyes flashing. Watching her strap her knife to her thigh was possibly the sexiest thing he had ever seen, made more so since that hadn’t been her intention at all.

  “Ian,” she said sharply, kneeling over him as she buttoned her shirt. She was clearly wondering why he hadn’t gotten his ass out of bed yet, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him. She glanced out the opening of the tent, her eyes sweeping the campsite, taking note of Brooks and Malek’s tents about fifty feet away. “Let’s go. We need to do something.”

  “Do something?” He glanced outside and then back at her, wondering why she was acting like it was an end of the world thing.

  Oh. Duh. Reaching out to her, he smiled. “It’s not an end of the world thing.”

  “No?” she asked skeptically, her body still rigid and tense, her eyes drawn to the sky.

  He pulled her to him and shook his head. “The Northern Lights.”

  “But aren’t those a winter thing?”

  Wow. She really had done her homework.

  “Yeah. Usually. I didn’t think we’d see them.” Another month or so would have made it more likely. But, Jesus. “It’s…”

  Breathtaking. In a literal way.

  His words trailed off as he stared up at her. Was overcome by her.

  There was something in the air—whether it was the lights themselves, an awesome, eerie reminder of the power of nature, or the electricity emanating from Lyndsey’s skin, her own power barely contained. He could feel her relax, feel her body yield to his arms as she lay back down against him, obviously not entirely convinced this was a good thing.

  “It’s like the sky is falling,” she said, still on alert and instinctively covering him. His personal human shield.

  Normally, that would irritate the hell out of him; set off every stubborn ‘I can do it myself’ cell in his body. Now, though, with the lights flashing above him, with this potent force of nature—in the form of his girlfriend—on top of him, all he could feel was the basest of instincts fiercely rising up. He hoarsely asked, “You think so?”

  She turned to him, hearing the hunger in his voice. “Don’t you?”

  “No.” It was just the opposite—the rise of Mother Earth; the power of creation. Everything that was primal and primitive, fundamental and untamed.

  “How would you describe it then?” she said, her own voice on the raspy side as her lips curled into a smile.

  His body was on fire—the desire to possess her battling with a need to be owned. Despite the flames burning within him, only one word came to mind: “Heaven.” His hand went to her hair and he pulled her to him, more roughly than he intended.

  It excited her. She leaned into him, her whole body getting involved—from her knee pressing into him, pushing down between his legs, to her tongue at the hollow of his neck, lapping and licking, taking his br
eath away. She murmured, “This isn’t anything like what I think Heaven would be.”

  Probably not. He wasn’t sure what kind of activities they allowed up there, but had a feeling they didn’t involve the hilt of her knife rubbing up against the inside of his thigh, or her teeth skimming his neck as her tongue swirled around, tracing his scars.

  He pulled at her hair, forcing her head back so that she was looking up at him and whispered, “Then I don’t want to go there.”

  Her smile was not at all nice as she disappeared from view. Her hair brushed his chest, his stomach, and he closed his eyes in anticipation. He could feel her reach for something, heard her pull the knife out of its sheath, and had a split second in which he thought—no fucking way—before he felt the cold, flat side of the blade being drawn up between his legs, followed closely by her warm, wet mouth—pain and pleasure and apprehension and want all combining for the most unbelievable of sensations.

  Talk about trust. It was a damn good thing they’d had that whole true love talk just a few hours ago, otherwise, even with Lyndsey...

  No, make that especially with Lyndsey…

  “Too bad,” she said, pausing just long enough for one long, slow stroke of her tongue. “Because that’s exactly where I’m taking you.”

  28

  Lyndsey wasn’t sure what woke her up quite so early the next morning—it wasn’t a cool, morning breeze rustling through the trees, because it was utterly still. And it wasn’t the call of the early morning birds because there was absolute silence. Nor was it Ian easing his way out of the sleeping bag because the space beside her was cold.

  All this she knew before she was fully awake. The moment she opened her eyes, she knew why.

  As she sat up slowly, her mouth dropped open at the sight through the tent’s open flap. It was the most spectacular sunrise she’d ever seen: a million shades of red, pink, orange and purple, the colors more intense as they reflected off the water. The sun was a ball of fire, igniting the horizon as it rose above the trees on the opposite shore.

  Brooks had been on watch all night so she wasn’t worried something had happened to Ian without her realizing it. Still, she pulled her clothes on quickly and was relieved to see him down by the shore. She made her way to where he was sitting, his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms around them; the comm dangling from his hand.

  As she sat down next to him, he turned to her and smiled grimly. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He looked…not scared, just solemn.

  Until now, everything had been conjecture—a collection of hints and theories which could so very easily have meant nothing. Now, though, with this sunrise—this Technicolor sunrise too fantastic for words, its colors so luscious, so vibrant that they came alive in front of her eyes… For as beautiful as it was, there was also something off about it. Something…eerie. Not quite natural.

  Her Sekhmet blood began to stir—her pulse ran a little faster, her heart pounded a little louder—but she pushed it aside for the moment so she could feel Ian’s warmth, just hold him close. Because, well… This was the day. This was definitely the day.

  She hooked her hands around his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder, though careful to give him his space. This was preparation for battle. And as hard as it would be, she wasn’t going to say a word. Right now he just needed to be looking within himself, figuring out how he’d approach the day, finding the strength he’d need to make sure he survived it.

  After a few minutes, Ian raised the comm to his head, positioning it as he said, “Morning, Command. Alpha Team checking in.”

  Lyndsey put her earpiece on in time to hear Matt say, “Hey.”

  “Matt, didn’t expect you quite this early.”

  “I woke up before dawn for some reason,” Matt said. “Couldn’t get back to sleep.”

  Ian looked at Lyndsey. Even after this brief time working with him, Lyndsey knew it was unusual for Matt to be up this early; more unusual for him to have decided to come in to work at dawn as though somewhere in his subconscious, he knew his presence was required. Ian looked back at the water. “Are you looking at the monitor?”

  “Yeah, why?” Matt asked.

  “Try it in color.” Ian didn’t bother to hide his frustration. Lyndsey figured it had something to do with the, well, to put it in the words Matt had used a few nights before they left Boston: brand-new billion—a fucking billion—dollar communications system couldn’t even show an image in color without going batshit.

  There was a second of interference as Matt switched the image from black and white. Silence then, before Matt’s–-

  “Shit.”

  That was kind of what Lyndsey had been thinking. Her hands tightened around Ian’s arm as he asked, “Any chance there’s a thunderstorm in the forecast?”

  There was a tapping of keys as Matt pulled up the weather report. “Seventy-eight degrees and sunny.”

  “Yeah.” Ian sounded unsurprised. “That’s what I thought.”

  Though the conversation was about the most mundane of details, Lyndsey could hear the words not being spoken and the things that would never be said: this friendship—this brotherhood—of twenty years is not about to end today.

  After a full minute’s pause, Matt said, “I’ll get the team leaders on the line. Zachary and TomCat, too.”

  Several minutes later, everyone had checked in and Matt brought them up to speed.

  Tommy was the first to speak. “Any butterfly sightings?”

  Ian answered, “Haven’t seen any as of yet. We’ll keep you posted.”

  “Brady,” Matt said, “you’re about fifteen miles west of Alpha Team. What are you seeing?”

  “Nothing unusual, sir. Why?”

  Matt’s voice crackled with tension. “Because if you’ve got the same sunrise as Ian then we chalk it up to Mother Nature. If not, it means Ian’s been tagged.”

  “Understood,” Brady answered. “Ian, you sure you’re seeing something out of the ordinary? This sunrise is pretty and all, but nothing I haven’t seen.”

  “Take off your headsets for a minute,” Matt said. “Brady, hold your camera up. Everyone—count to fifteen then come back to me.”

  Lyndsey wasted no time in following that order—she knew the “going batshit” was a direct translation for “deafening feedback” as soon as a second monitor was turned on. She’d been one of the unfortunate people wearing her earpiece when they’d discovered the problem. Just to be safe, she gave it a few extra seconds before putting it back on, coming back just as Matt reported, “Yeah. They’re definitely different. This is not a drill, folks. So—options?”

  Ian said, “I don’t think we have any. We’re here to stop this thing; we can’t do anything if we don’t go in.”

  As he spoke, he pulled away from Lyndsey, transforming from the man she shared her bed with to the soldier of twenty years. Though she missed his warmth, her own senses were tingling. Time to let the birthright come out to play.

  She stood up and walked a few feet closer to the water, closer to the colorscape and asked, “Go in where?” They were still quite a distance away from McAree Lake—‘No Man’s Land,’ as Ian had called it that night in Atikokan, but maybe they didn’t actually have to go that far to find something. “I’m not saying we should hold back,” she added, noticing Ian bristle as she turned back to face him. He’d misread her resistance as over-protectiveness. “I just mean we don’t really have anywhere to go. If we’re seeing the sunrise here, then this is the place. This is where the action is going to be.”

  “I disagree,” Sprague said, chiming in for the first time. “Annika Willett saw the sunrise from her campsite, but she was fine. The fiancé was lost when he went out on his own.”

  “So,” Ana said, “obviously, Ian shouldn’t go anywhere by his lonesome.”

  An edginess crept into Ian’s voice. “No one should.”

  “Well, yeah,” Brady responded, “but with all due respect, sir, you’re the one seeing the sunrise.
And you do fit the profile.”

  “Brady,” Ian said, clearly trying to take the focus off him, “that’s the second time you’ve said ‘sir’ in two minutes. You feeling okay?”

  “Don’t try and change the subject,” Lyndsey snapped. It was one thing when something was coming for her, it was another entirely when it was gunning for someone she loved.

  Ian looked at her, about to snap back when he seemed to see something in her eyes. Something that—if she had to be honest—might possibly be defined as worry. His expression softened.

  It turned hard just as quickly when Matt said, “I don’t know. You’ve got some rough territory to cover today. Maybe you should just stay put. Let it come to you.”

  Shaking his head angrily, Ian said, “I’m not sitting here all day biding my time. Let’s at least stick to the original plan and keep moving.”

  As he spoke, Lyndsey turned back to the water, her eyes scanning everything in sight on the off chance that she could identify where the attack would come from or what form it would take. On the surface, she was calm—probably almost eerily so to anyone watching—underneath her skin, though, everything was jumping; she was completely wired.

  Bring it on, Madame Butterfly. Bring it on.

  It was clear she wasn’t the only one itching to get this started. She could practically feel it coursing over the comms: adrenaline surging, threatening to overtake the need to stay rational, to think things through. It would be easier for her, Ian, Brooks and Malek, because they were the ones who would get to duke it out. The others had it worse; they’d be sitting on the sidelines unable to do anything but listen.

  That frustration was no doubt at least partly to blame for Matt’s being particularly irritable as he responded to Ian. “The plan includes some class four rapids followed by a lake that will take you at least an hour to cross. You’ll either be too distracted or a sitting duck.”