Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve)

by Godwin, Pam

  I nodded and centered my stance.

  You suppose you are the trouble

  But you are the cure

  You suppose that you are the lock on the door

  But you are the key that opens it

  It’s too bad that you want to be someone else

  You don’t see your own face, your own beauty

  Yet, no face is more beautiful than yours.

  Rumi

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: TAP OUT

  Michio’s slouched posture seduced me into action. I aimed for his throat. My fist hit air.

  From out of nowhere, his forearm crossed my neck and pitched me backwards. My eyes closed for the impact, but my downward motion ceased mid-fall.

  I cracked an eye. Almond shaped ones stared back and my body hung in the cradle of his arms.

  He leaned in, his breathtaking face filling my horizon, and kissed me with lips as strong as the rest of him. Just as quick, he set me on my feet.

  I rose to my full height. “I didn’t even tap.”

  He towered over me. “You would have. When you hit the floor.”

  “If you were an aphid, I’d already have you squashed under my boot.”

  “Your aphid speed only works against them.”

  It wasn’t a question. He knew this. “I don’t need it.”

  “Sure you don’t.”

  My arms came up, spreading like a flower. I closed the flower with downward hands, knocking his out and away.

  Past his guard, I struck with my elbow. Our arms smacked. His hand trapped mine. His other pulled down on my neck. Between his weight and his strength, he had me on the floor in a heartbeat, pushing an oomph past my lips.

  Sweat dampened my skin. My fist hovered next to his groin, seized between his thighs. He squeezed my neck and applied pressure to the lock on my arm, coaxing my free hand to smack the tile.

  The burn from the hyperextension dimmed in my arm when his mouth fell over mine. My lip caught between his teeth and he bit down. I held still, absorbing the pain, the taste, the feel of him, wanting more, and communicating it with my eyes.

  He read me and angled his mouth, taking over. I gripped the hard ridges of his ass and held on.

  My name escaped the corner of his lips and his tongue thrust harder. Buttons plinked the tile as his shirt ripped from our tangle of body heat, my palms skimming through a coat of perspiration.

  Time passed without us. Eventually, I murmured into the kiss, “Feels like we’re keeping this contained.” The aphids were a silent presence in my head.

  His eyes darted to the chamber door and he continued kissing through his response. “Uh huh.”

  Wedged in the V of his squat, I swiped my swollen lips and narrowed my eyes. “Is defense all you got?”

  Was that a smile? I couldn’t be sure because I was spinning and my back hit his chest. The inside of his elbow connected with my jugular, pinching it.

  I pulled my feet beneath me and dug my chin under the lock. His arm tightened and cut off my airless grunt. My hands slipped over the velvet skin of his arm. The pressure in my head mushroomed and my vision dotted. My stroking fingers became an urgent tap.

  His arm lock melted into a meandering hand and hovered over my breast. Powerful thighs locked me in place. Lips flitted to my nape. Each lick swept chills down my spine.

  When he tweaked my nipple between two knuckles, I sucked in a breath and arched into his hand. My knees weakened under my half-crouch.

  The room spun again and his mouth latched onto my breast. Hot puffs wet the fabric of my shredded chemise. The graze of his teeth channeled shivers bone-deep. My hands sailed through his thick cropped hair.

  Then I was back on my feet, wobbling. His eyes flicked to the door and settled on my face, consuming me with their alluring depths.

  He traced my jaw with a thumb. “I’ve trained with master fighters most of my life. Yet, here you are humbling me.”

  My brows knitted together. “If you’re humbly kicking my ass, what’s that make me?”

  “Fearless.” His palm cupped my nape. “You possess a passion, a beauty, unequaled.” Each word was heavy, carried with emotion.

  “It’s called stubbornness. And you’re blind.”

  He swayed closer. “You are diligent, the way of the wise. And my eyes don’t deceive me. Neither does my heart.”

  The certainty in his tone flooded my chest and sent my thoughts hurdling into the future. Once I put a few thousand miles between myself and Malta, would I seek the Shard? Or prowl the planet slaying aphids? I didn’t dream of doing those things without Roark and Jesse at my side. As my fingers swept around Michio’s waist, I knew my future included him as well.

  But first, I had to deal with the Drone. Given the chance, I would take a potato peeler to his body, dehydrate the peelings under the hot Malta sun, and fold the paper skin into ornamental bugs.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “Epidermal origami.”

  Michio’s grin floated to mine.

  But the game was still on. I pulled in his hips and drove my shoulder into his gut. My foot slid back, shifting weight to take him down. He made an elegant adjustment of his pelvis and rolled. His fist clipped my chin, the angle perfect. My balance wavered.

  He yanked me against him, lips at my ear. “You also fight dirty.”

  “I do a lot of things dirty.” I raised my knee to his groin. A pang ricocheted through my leg as he caught it, paralyzed it and bent it backwards.

  I tapped in surrender, agog over the true surrender that would follow.

  The couch caught my fall and he pitted me into the cushions. Sea and sandalwood soaked into my taste buds as his lips fed on mine. Then they left my mouth to chase curves around my jaw, down my neck, over one breast, the dip of my waist, and tarried on the ripped hem at my thigh.

  His body trembled around me. Mine responded in kind. We sighed together and for a dimwitted moment, I thought he was done.

  A clever hand vanished between my legs, searching, stroking, and spiking my pulse. I fought for air. Each curl of his fingers cranked my knees farther open. Hand-to-hand combat wasn’t the only skill benefiting from his knowledge of anatomy. His touch reduced my body to a panting needy blob.

  My pleasure climbed, teetered on the edge. I reached for it. Just another second—

  He leaned back and straightened my tattered chemise. Then he heaved me to my feet with fingers wet from my arousal.

  My face fevered. I ground my molars and met his eyes. “You’re teasing me.”

  He stepped closer, lips rolled between his teeth, eyes glittering.

  “Bastar…arrgh.” My shoulder popped. I blinked. Both my arms were disabled behind my back, extended at the elbows. Hands numb and growing cold, I gave him wide eyes. “Tap.”

  He lifted me. The gate clicked. Trousers and boxers dropped in our wake. The mattress creaked. He pinned my hands above my head and covered my body with his.

  Locked at the lips, neither of us moved. Anticipation puffed and mingled in steam from our noses. I burned under his weight, crushed by packs of muscle from his chest to his thighs. My legs squeezed around him. My pleasure hung on the precipice, waiting.

  He lined up and drove his hips, his mouth catching my yelp, the feel of him hurtling me toward heaven. Hump after hump, my bliss built. By the fourth thrust, he discarded what was left of my shift. Two more and my defeat erupted in hoarse cries.

  When my full-body tingle tapered, I peeled my cheek from his pounding chest and spied something on his face I’d never seen there.

  “What is it?” He tucked a stray lock behind my ear.

  “Your smile. Perhaps I shouldn’t inflate your head, but you’re fucking gorgeous.”

  He widened it. “Ego’s still at a safe level.”

  “For now.”

  His nose traced mine. “Are you sated?”

  “Ditto on the for now,” I roamed a toe along his leg.

  He chuckled and browsed my lips, his b
owing up in a beautiful curve. Then he slid off the bed and glided to the gate.

  The shock of his sudden exit left me stammering, “W-wait. You aren’t sated.”

  “The terms were I ease you.” His neutral voice reeked with an undercurrent that said he was anything but neutral. I didn’t remember his terms barring reciprocation? What was he trying to prove? Stupid men and their egos.

  He breezed to the bathroom and dammit if the muscles in his sculpted bare ass didn’t ripple through his strides. Then my panorama faded behind the door and snapped me out of my stupor.

  I nibbled my lip for one breath, two…five, leapt from the bed and dialed in the combination. Maybe he forgot he gave that to me.

  The door muffled the spray of water from the shower head. I slipped inside.

  “Evie.” His groan floated from behind the curtain. “If you come in here, my restraint will not be repeated.”

  Good. I pulled back the drape and held my breath. Palm flat to the wall, head dropped on his arm, his other hand wrapped around his erection. Water sluiced off the ridges of his lats.

  I ducked under his arm and shimmied around him. A hum rumbled from his chest. He gripped the back of my thighs and planted my butt against the rock wall.

  In the next breath, he filled me. The clench of his hands pinched my skin. The pain sweetened the sensation. I gave him a rough shove with my hips and smiled up at him.

  Lines appeared between his brows and his mouth opened. I silenced him with a kiss that was as hungry as my body. All around me, his limbs hardened. Then his restraint snapped. Fingers readjusted on my thighs, digging further into flesh, and his pelvis pounded with a force that ensured I’d limp away.

  I clutched the shower curtain to brace for the impacts. The hooks squealed along the pole. Fabric tore. His hips surged on.

  A heady rush enveloped me. Climatic spasms racked my body and still, it screamed for more.

  Then something flashed in his wide eyes and he caught my face between his palms. “I’m hurting you.”

  “Hell, yes. Shut up and keep moving.”

  He squinted and stilled his thrusts. Steam thickened the air. His body shook.

  “Come on, gorgeous. I can take it.” I compressed my quadriceps around his waist for emphasis.

  A moan vibrated low in his throat, but his hips didn’t move.

  I dropped my legs and slid to my knees. My fingers made slow circles up the bunching tendons in his thighs. His erection jerked and I lowered my head. Then I savored him with a gluttonous mouth.

  He clenched all over as I pulled grunts and groans I never imagined hearing from him. Hands threaded through my hair, ripping at the roots. “Baby, you’re killing me.”

  Water sprayed my upturned face. I held his dark gaze and swirled my tongue over the glans. “You’ll live.”

  Then I took him deep and absorbed his responses. His head falling back, his labored breaths, the twitch of his cock against my tongue, his bucking hips. Then it all ground to a halt as the master of emotion lost the rein on his release in a raw and beautiful contortion of features.

  The warm splash of salt and man washed down my throat. I licked him and my lips.

  His laughter wrapped around my heart. “Christ, Evie. That was…” He leaned down and took my mouth, untamed and filled with fire. “I need a few minutes.”

  He yanked the faucet to fill the tub. His fingers wrapped around mine, pulling us to sit, me straddling him. I gave him his recovery time then melted onto him, taking him in, rocking my hips.

  The way he watched me, his smoldering eyes roaming my nudity, rivaled the heat in his voice. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get more beautiful,” he whispered, “seeing you wild and happy like this knocks the wind out of me.”

  His words, his timbre, the flame in his eyes sent another release through my body. When strength returned to my limbs and the water level submerged where we were joined, I turned off the tap.

  We soaked the bumps on our well-loved bodies. My chin rested on his chest and he traced my back. His finger paused. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Red sweat,” I mumbled in a lazy voice.

  “I’m supposed to take care of you. Not injure you.”

  I flicked water in his face. “You did take care of me. And now you’ve set the bar. Better get some more sewing needles.”

  His arms snaked around me, pulling me up until our eyes were level. “Do you know how many times I wanted to crawl in behind you in this tub and hold you like this? To offer some kind of reassurance that you weren’t alone?” His biceps flexed around me and rippled the water. “I was so worried in those early days, when you disappeared inside yourself. Took everything I had to keep secrets from you.” His voice softened. “You nearly dragged me into that pit with you.”

  I put my smile against his lips. “Instead, you dragged me back.” I drew up and planted my hands on either side of his head. “I like being with you, too.” More than liked it. I held the eyes of the man I trusted with my life, watched them soften. “If we ever get off this rock, I want to go with you. To Shard. To wherever. Got a problem with that?”

  His smile lit up his face. “Only way I can protect you, Nannakola.”

  Till the day he died. I smiled back, knew my eyes were brimming with it. “Even if I have a priest and a savage in tow?” They’d come with me. I’d make damn sure of it.

  He gave me his answer in a kiss then whispered into it. “Sun down tomorrow. We’re breaking out.”

  My robe dusted a path in my cell. Michio hadn’t returned from his final walk in the quadrangle. He was supposed to check for Jesse and come right back. Then we’d escape.

  The sun dipped past the rafters hours earlier. Two prayer times came and went.

  Perhaps he found Jesse. Or maybe the gig was up. The Drone approached him in the kitchen that morning, said he found the tongue-less chef, that Roark had overpowered him, taken his tongue and fled. He also assumed it was Roark who severed the Imago’s tongue during an unscheduled visit to his chamber.

  My stomach cramped and my head thrummed under a sheen of sweat. What if the Drone had since figured it out? I stopped at the gate and pulled off my headscarf. Fuck that.

  It took three attempts to get the combination on the lock to click. I sprinted to the chamber door. Michio could come and go because the Drone allowed it. The guards were his eyes and ears. As soon as I opened the door, he’d know. I’d have to be quick. Didn’t Michio say the kitchen was next to the hall? If I could get there, I’d find a knife.

  I reached inside and gathered my guts. I didn’t have Michio’s Yang to power my whatever, but I could do it. I opened the door.

  The guard crouched. Spit flew from its snapping jowls.

  For a fearful moment, I locked up. Forced a breath. Then pushed my command. Stay.

  Black veins pulsed under its glowing skin. Its pincers clicked. I sidled around it. Stay beat with every breath I took.

  The dizziness crowded in. I tripped down the stairs and bounced off the first bend in the wall. Nausea chased me. But the guard didn’t.

  Despite the fog in my head, the stairway was clear. I stumbled off the bottom step and released my hold on the chamber guard. The strain inside me receded.

  Slithering feet crawled through the adjoined corridor, followed by hissing and the waft of blood. I waited.

  Heart-pounding moments later, the unlit tunnel drifted to silence. I forced my feet to move.

  Sconces illuminated the end and framed the double doors to the hall. I slipped out of the corridor and remained in the shadows. A large swinging door loomed ahead. The kitchen.

  Big breath. Then I ran.

  A buzz spiked through me. A clammy arm slammed into my throat. My face skidded along the rock wall.

  I pawed at my neck, gripped the pincer that held me. Back, back, back I shoved from my spine.

  A mandible yawned next to my face. The spear telescoped out. A drip glistened on the point.

  Your blood’s not on
ly poisonous to the aphids but exponentially more potent.

  No time like the present to put Michio’s hunch to the test. I caught the spear and squeezed the razor edge. Pain streaked up my arm. Wet warmth poured over my fingers. I let go.

  The tube receded, stained with my blood. Pressure eased from my neck and the claw dropped. Fumes of burnt hair assaulted my nose. Then the violent release of flesh and blood sprayed the floor, the walls, my face.

  I plodded through the sludge and banged the kitchen door open with my shoulder.

  Two pairs of wide human eyes looked up from bubbling pots and locked on my bleeding hand.

  “English? Do you speak English?”

  A pan dropped, scattering fish heads across the floor. A man with wild hair and lanky limbs crumpled like a marionette and canopied his head under trembling arms.

  The second man’s neck sank into his shoulders, a surprising feat given the rotund folds engulfing it.

  “Knives? Pokers?” I made a jabbing motion.

  Their eyes bugged and their mouths sucked air. Useless.

  I jogged through the room. Copper pans and ceramic plates cluttered the stainless counters. Nothing sharp or dangerous.

  My foot slipped on fishy parts. “How’d you cut the damn heads off?” I gestured to the eyeless faces on the floor.

  The fat man stabbed a shaky finger at the rack above the next counter. Torchlight flickered on a half dozen steel blades dangling from the ceiling. Jackpot.

  I leapt onto the counter and rolled the knives into a nearby towel. “The doctor? Have you seen him?”

  The marionette on the floor curled farther into a ball. The fat one blinked. It was possible one of these asses was missing a tongue.

  I yanked up my sleeve and pointed at my stitches. “Doctor?”

  Layers of chin rolls shook side to side. His belly jiggled with his backward shuffle into the counter.

  Jesus, fuck. Knife in hand, I tied the rolled spares at my waist with the sash on my robe. Then I touched the door and put out feelers. Hunger pushed back. Enough for a single aphid. Close. The other side of the door?

  Fffffound rattled through me.