“What about dad?”
“He’s still dry. I held him up high so he wouldn’t get wet,” he said wryly.
Her fingers were numb, clumsy. She couldn’t seem to unbutton her jeans or peel her wet shirt off. Connor pushed her hands away and pulled her shirt off. It splattered heavily against the ground. He paused seeing her naked chest, then roughly slid a replacement over her head.
The sleeves refused to roll down her arms and the front caught on her tits.
“I’m not used to putting clothes on a woman,” he muttered.
She gave a watery laugh. He knelt and peeled her jeans down her hips, his face inches from her pubic region. His warm breath felt like fire against her cold, clammy skin. A strange quiver threaded her insides, but she didn’t wonder on it long as he gave her his arm and helped her step into a dry pair of jeans. Pulling clothes up on wet skin was harder than getting them off. She’d warmed up nicely by the time she had everything back on.
Connor peeled his clothes off. His coat didn’t look wet at all, but everything else was drenched from saving her. She made no attempt not to watch as he rooted around in the bag and got some of her dad’s clothes.
The fact that she didn’t look away as he undressed should have bothered her. She was fascinated and drawn to him without quite knowing why. Maybe it was because he’d shown he was willing to sacrifice himself for them. No one had ever stuck their neck out for her or her dad.
“Wring these out. We’ll dry them by a fire later on,” he said, handing her his sodden clothes.
She took them, doing what she could while briefly admiring his backside glistening in the starlight.
Redressed but still chilled, they both got their shoes on and headed toward the mountains.
“How long until we know my dad will be okay?” she asked, shivering and trailing behind Connor. She was running on adrenaline and fumes now. Only the promise of the villagers tearing them to pieces if they caught up to them could keep her going now.
“It’s good he’s unconscious. The nanos will pass the blood/brain barrier easier that way. They bond with all the cells in his body. It’s not the same for everyone, but his bleeding has stopped and his breathing has regulated.” Connor glanced down at her. “I’ll take care of you. Both of you, Dahlia. You just have to keep up. We’ll stop a few hours before dawn and get some rest.”
She felt a warmth inside to see Connor taking care of her father. He didn’t have to, and yet he did. He had no reason to lug them along with him. Why didn’t he just abandon them?
“Where are we going?” she asked, trudging along behind him and ignoring her cramping leg muscles. The bag slung across her back made her ache. She couldn’t complain—he was carrying a heavier load than she.
“If we can make it to the valley past these mountains, there’s an old highway we can follow. Should be some stash spots along the way so we don’t starve to death. It’s a system we put up in case there’s trouble,” Connor said.
“Ah. Okay,” she mumbled. One foot in front of the other, she concentrated on keeping up with his long strides as the landscape climbed and grew increasingly harder to traverse.
Her mind went numb, unable to keep up with the passage of time except that the sliver of moon disappeared. She stumbled on the uneven ground, tripping over rocks, stepping into holes, scraping bushes. Her eyelids drooped, and her feet and legs felt like a rusted automaton’s.
She bumped into Connor’s back, barely registering he’d stopped until her nose was buried in the folds of his coat.
“You’re dead on your feet,” he said. “Can you get a blanket for him so I can lay him down?”
“Yeah,” she said, dropping the bag on the ground and following it down. She rooted around and pulled out a small soft quilt and spread it on the dirt. It wasn’t until he laid her father on the ground and wrapped him up that she took stock of her surroundings.
A huge black shadow dominated the sky—foothills leading up to rock crusted mountains. Tilting her face up, she could see light spots where snow dotted the peaks, almost with an unnatural glow. Standing still, the events of the night finally caught up to her. She barely pulled a blanket out for her to sleep on before she was collapsing on top of the hard-packed earth.
A spasm began in the arches of her feet, traveled up her calves, through her buttocks and back. She shivered, teeth chattering as cold seeped through the thin blanket into her body.
Dahlia felt Connor behind her, laying with his body pressed tight against hers. “You’re freezing,” he whispered in her ear. His warm breath on the sensitive shell sent a different kind of shiver spiraling through her. Her skin prickled with goosebumps. She sucked in air, gasping as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her neck.
“W-what are you doing?” she whispered.
“Sharing body heat. These blankets are pathetic,” he said on a husky growl.
She squirmed as his mouth set her skin on fire. “My dad’s asleep?”
“Like a baby. Give him ‘til morning. He’ll be better. I promise. Now I need to take care of you,” he whispered hotly. His mouth trailed kisses against her neck.
She turned in his arms, twisting until her lips were inches from his and his breath fanned against her mouth. Her body tightened, and a pulse throbbed in her belly. Expectant and breathless, she wasn’t sure what—if anything—she should do. Unable to clearly see his face in the dark, she knew he watched her with superhuman eyes. “Men are cruel,” she managed to whisper.
“They are,” he breathed. He moved his hand up her body, slowly, not touching anything in a sexual manner. Yet her belly jerked as he trailed up and over her ribs. Her chest froze as he skimmed through the valley of her breasts. His rough fingers glided over her collarbone, up to her cheek, and he rubbed a calloused thumb along the edge of her jaw, like coaxing a skittish colt to heel.
She parted her lips on a sigh, wanting so badly to trust him and experience more than pain and regret.
“Just a kiss,” he murmured, closing the distance between their mouths.
The contact of his full, soft lips upon hers was as stunning as a sudden lightning storm. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Panic and stress revolved, spinning out of control into something else…something exciting and unknown. The gentle hold of his hand should have been incapable of holding her still, and yet she didn’t dare move from his exploration of her mouth.
His tongue, hot and wet, pushed inside past her teeth, feeling alien against her tongue. Not knowing what else to do, she sucked him, and when his groan rumbled from the back of his throat, she swore she could taste it.
She scarcely noticed his hand freeing her cheek and moving back down. When he closed over one breast and pinched the nipple, she twisted and flattened her back on the ground. Dahlia tore her mouth from his, trying to catch her breath as sensation flooded her body and pooled in her neglected center.
“No more,” she said, swallowing a whimper.
He stopped immediately, resting his forehead against her temple and breathing so hard, if she hadn’t known better she’d have thought he’d been running. Was it possible the kiss affected him as strongly as it had her?
“As you wish. It’s going to be a helluva night,” he groaned, shifting against her until the erection she’d thought was a knee moved off her hip and sent relief to the spot.
“Oh. Shit.” She tried to sit up, but he held her down.
“Sleep. I promise that’s all we’ll do.” Connor untangled his coat and wrapped it around them, trapping them inside with their combined body heat. She used his arm as a pillow, and turned into his body to snuggle his chest.
With his arms tight around her, she felt safe for the first time.
***
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
Her dad’s voice roused her from slumber. Dahlia opened her eyes to see her father smiling. “Dad! Are you okay?” she asked, stiff as she sat up.
He sat on the blanket beside her. She hugged him
and pulled back, staring at him. No longer did he have a strange gray hue to his skin. He looked well-rested, with bright eyes, and the wheeze in his breathing was gone.
“I’ve never felt better. Connor cured me. More than that—he saved my life,” Wallace said. “He found breakfast too. We’ve become friends while you slept.”
Dahlia glanced around her father and saw Connor pushing eggs from the ashes of a small fire. “You must’ve lost your knife in the river. I had a helluva time getting this fire going with the fire starter and chunk of granite.”
She touched her hip where she always kept her knife and found the spot empty. She’d been so tired, she hadn’t even noticed. “Damn. At least you’re resourceful. And you found the way to my dad’s heart, huh? Through his stomach?”
Connor laughed. “It’s the way to any man’s heart, Dahl.”
For some reason, the nickname gave her a fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach. The warmth continued as he peeled the egg and handed it to her. Ambrosia filled her mouth as she ate the protein rich egg and the yolk burst on her tongue.
“And a woman’s,” Wallace said, winking at her.
She wiped her mouth. “We’ll have to find water soon. I won’t make it too far without it. The egg was delicious, but I’m already thirsty. I wish I hadn’t lost the other bag!”
They gathered their belongings and forged along a narrow game path—possibly trampled by mountain goats. If they went this way there had to be water.
“Why didn’t we just go around? Or follow the river?” Dahlia asked, feeling out of breath the longer they climbed and the steeper the terrain became.
“Everyone follows the river. If they were tracking us, it’s the direction they would go—the path of least resistance. Going around isn’t an option either. It’s been years, but I know it takes several days on the highway. We might not find water. Look on the bright side. We’ve only got to get to that crest up there. See the rocks? There’s a good chance of a water pool from that rain,” Connor said, looking down at her.
She nodded but couldn’t spare a breath to say more. The altitude messed with her. She could taste the thin air. She breathed with her mouth open, as if it would help her consume more oxygen in spite of the rigorous climb. A dizzy feeling made her head spin. She fought the sensation, keeping her eyes down as she dug in, almost laying down as she clawed and dug at the mountainside for a handhold.
Her panting continued, getting heavier as the hours passed. Her vertigo increased, and despite the drop in temperature and the wind caterwauling around them tearing at her hair and clothes, she was drenched in sweat.
“Almost there, baby girl,” Wallace said behind her, urging her on. “We almost at the top. I can just about smell the water.”
He didn’t sound winded at all. Nor did Connor. “O…o…kay,” she whispered, looking up where Connor clung to the rocks just above her. Her eyesight narrowed into a pinpoint of light and winked out as a weightlessness enveloped her body.
Chapter Seven
Wallace caught Dahlia’s hand before she could plummet to her death. The nanos had given him the same incredible strength and stamina they all possessed. Connor scrambled down the rock face. Tiny pebbles pinged as he sent them skittering south.
He grabbed her bicep, pulling her up with Wallace’s help until he could flatten her against the ledge with the security cage of his body.
His insides twisting, he patted her face and gave her a shake, trying to wake her up. “Dahl? Wake up,” he said. Worry cut like a knife, wrenching from his guts to his heart.
“I didn’t realize she was having such a hard time,” Wallace said quietly. “She should have said something.”
“She wouldn’t. She’s too headstrong for her own good,” Connor said, gathering her to his side. He’d climb the short distance with one arm.
“You got that right. Let’s go,” Wallace said.
The climb was harder now, but they were only six feet from a stopping point. Connor prayed he was right and there would be water. He and Wallace could last another day before succumbing to the madness and fatigue of dehydration. Dahlia wouldn’t last the night.
Climbing ahead, Wallace helped pull Dahlia up to the rocky ledge as Connor followed.
“Thank the lord. Water!” Wallace said.
Connor lay Dahlia gently by the rocks, flattening down the grasses beneath her. The small pool of water looked untouched by animal or insect, but appearances could be deceiving. He prayed it was free of bacteria and parasites, but he’d have no way of knowing for hours. They couldn’t boil water. He and her father would be okay drinking it, but Dahlia—in her weakened state—would be highly susceptible to anything lurking beneath its surface.
Connor cupped his hands and scooped up water while Wallace held her head and pried open her mouth. Between the two of them, they managed to strangle her on a mouthful of water enough to wake her up.
She sputtered—her eyelids fluttering open as she coughed. “You trying to kill me?” she croaked.
He couldn’t help but smile. “As a matter of fact… Here, drink.”
She drank from his hands. He tried to ignore the feel of her lips on his fingers, the way his cock reacted like a sensual punch in the gut that ached more than pained. Fuck—he was a glutton for punishment. Connor fetched more water and tilted his hands to her mouth. She watched him as she drank, holding him with her hazel eyes. He forgot to think—forgot to breathe—until she pushed his hands away.
She wiped the back of her hand across her lips, making him remember how lush and soft they felt against his own. “I hope I don’t regret that.”
Connor nodded. “We’ll stay here. It’s getting late. We’ve got a wind break with those rocks. Won’t be able to start a fire with this wind. I don’t fancy waking up with my ass on fire.”
They spread blankets out on the grassy ledge. Connor took the spot closest to the edge and hoped he didn’t roll to his death in the night. He damned sure didn’t want Dahlia on the precipice. She was tough and plucky, but no human could survive that fall.
The days were getting shorter, harkening a return to fall. From their perch, they watched as the sun disappeared over the other mountains, leaving them to wait on the rising moon. It was fuller tonight but not by much. Maybe it was the elevation along with his enhanced vision, but the distance they’d traveled seemed to stretch for miles. Even with the distance, he could see the winking of fires from their town. A normal human eye could see a candle flame for miles in the dark—his vision far surpassed that.
They were lucky as hell they hadn’t been followed. He was lucky to have Dahlia curled up beside him.
Their good fortune didn’t hold. In the early morning hours, after a night of misery with the wind howling and finding every uncovered nook on their bodies, Dahlia awoke sick.
She heaved until there was nothing left to come up, and then heaved some more.
“It’s the water, isn’t it?” Wallace asked, his face a mask of concern as he watched his daughter writhing in pain.
Every fear Connor had went flashing through his brain. He fought the panic back to a dull roar. He glanced around, but he knew there was nothing around them that could cut a deep enough wound in his hand to transfer the nanos to her bloodstream. Seminal fluid could spread it to her, but the thought of forcing that on her while she felt like death made him sick to his stomach. They’d have to take their chances and see if they could find a cache with some adequate supplies before she got any worse. “Can you move?” Connor asked her. She shook her head.
“We can rig up a sling with these blankets. I’ll carry you on my back,” Connor said, quickly ripping the blankets to fashion them into an extra-large carrier to hold her. “I wouldn’t do this, but there’s no way I can go down the other side with you in my arms. We still might fall. I don’t know.”
Wallace helped her into the carrier. She rested her head on his shoulders and hugged his back. “You’re going to be sorry if I get sick again. I feel
like a big baby.”
Connor chuckled. “This is serious, Dahl. Just let me know if I need to stop so you can be sick.”
“You don’t want puke in your hair?” she said.
“Try to turn your head and warn me if you feel it coming on,” he said, grunting as he maneuvered around to make their descent. She didn’t feel nearly as heavy as he thought she should. Was it possible she’d lost that much weight in so short a time, or was it his adrenaline giving him a boost?
“You’d think going down would be easier,” Wallace said, stopping just long enough to wipe sweat off his forehead. “Or the wind would keep you cool.”
“Too strenuous. If we keep going this way”—Connor traced the direction in the air—”we should end up on the road by the time we get to the bottom. I don’t know if you can see it from here. It’s covered in grass. There should be a mile marker close by with a stash of supplies. If we’re lucky, we’ll hit the jackpot and find a signal to call the border scouts.”
“Let’s go. She’s passed out,” Wallace said.
The nanos in their blood allowed them to push harder than they ever could as mere human. He recognized the strength and stamina in Wallace. The old man should have been dead, and now he was moving like a man half his age.
Connor prayed Dahlia would make it. Her will was strong. He couldn’t bear thinking of the alternative.
The descent was brutal and seemed only slightly faster than going up on the other side. It was probably in his head. Nothing like an emergency to make a situation take forever to resolve.
She’d been still and quiet for so long, when she finally spoke, she startled the shit out of him.
“We’re a burden. We shouldn’t have come. You carried my father and now me. Why do you keep on going?” she whispered into his ear, as if speaking any louder was impossible.
He squeezed her hand, looking over his shoulder at her. Her eyes were closed, and her face looked pallid. “I do it because I want to. You’re going to make it to our settlement. I plan on making you my woman.”
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