by Joss Ware
His heart was slamming hard and her mouth was just . . . there. A breath away. Then she lifted her face and brushed her lips against his, so lightly it was little more than a whisper. But sweet. Oh, so sweet. He felt his body lift, tingle, come alive.
But he didn’t move. Barely breathed. The ceiling seemed to drop lower, the night pressed in against him. He felt her breathing against him, gentle and easy.
And then she brushed against him again, and stopped when their mouths were aligned, lip over lip, and she pressed, slipped the tip of her tongue out and over the seam of his lips. Elliott was aware of a sudden rush of warmth, and he closed his eyes, just held there and felt the rightness of the moment, of the gentle, sweet kiss as his lips moved just as softly against hers. The taste. The light pressure. The tug of intimacy, drawing deep from his belly.
This is it.
After a moment, she pulled slowly away and gave a little laugh. Low and husky, the sound sent a little shiver over him. Her lips glistened and quirked at the corners, and he almost kissed her again. But instead he drew in a deep breath and remained still, stunned and fighting himself from dragging her onto the floor beneath him.
Jade was smiling when their mouths met again, but he felt the curve slip away as their lips melded together, hot and hungry and urgent. His hands came up around her shoulders, tugging her into his lap, and he felt her hand caught between them, splayed on his chest. All reason deserted him, replaced by a low-burning, deep need to delve deeper, taste more . . . to lose himself.
Elliott gave up. Those full, sexy lips covered his, all soft and warm and sinful. Want blazed through him when he tasted her, slipping his tongue into her mouth and tangling with hers, holding her head with one hand so he could delve deeper.
He closed his eyes, forgot to breathe, forgot everything but Jade and the heat of her mouth, the teasing, sultry nibble of her teeth, the softness of her lips.
He needed this. Her.
She sighed, turning her face away and drawing in a breath even as he couldn’t stop tasting the corner of her lips, that little devious curl. Her hand slipped around his neck, her fingers touching the tender skin there.
The lemon scent from her hair was in his nose, along with the gentle smell of woman, of Jade, the faintly salty taste of her. Warm, soft flesh curving under his hands, pressing into him, even a gentle gasp when he thumbed over one of her nipples. Lifting her shirt, feeling the smooth skin, the elastic of her bra. . . .
And then, somehow, he caught himself, dragging himself back when he realized that another man’s hand had been here only hours ago. And his mouth. . . .
He released her, moving away before his body overruled his head.
“Elliott?” Jade leaned awkwardly toward him balancing on one hand, her eyes heavy-lidded and bedroomy, her lips full and slick, her hair a tumbled mass around her face and shoulders.
A teen boy’s wet dream, right here, right in front of him. Elliott closed his eyes, trying to reason with his raging erection, which argued, Come on, come on, it’s been fifty years.
“Jade,” he said as much to focus himself as to get her attention. And damn if he wasn’t breathing like he’d run a marathon. “I’m not into this.”
“Into what?” She gave a little raspy laugh of confusion. “Kissing?”
“I’m not interested in being one of your conquests.”
“Conquests?”
“I don’t share,” he said flatly, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible, knowing it all sounded harsh and sharp. But he had to talk fast before he forgot what he needed to say. “Not with Luke, or the cowboy guy from the club last night—yes, I saw you leave with him. And not with any other man that you might booty call with on your Running missions.”
She sat away, looking at him, eyes wide and startled. Then she scooted back, taking those just-kissed lips and pretty feet with her. Elliott’s breathing settled and he busied himself by picking up a rusty stapler and examining it. At least, pretending to.
“So is that what you meant about my cowboy boyfriend?” she asked at last.
He nodded. He wanted to ask Who is he? He wanted to demand to know why she was spreading herself around like that . . . but he resisted. He suspected a woman who’d been through what she had wouldn’t react well to angry male demands.
“That was Vaughn Rogan. He’s the mayor of Envy,” she told him. “We’re old friends. Not lovers.”
Elliott didn’t trust himself to speak. They hadn’t looked like friends.
Jade shifted and gave a soft sigh. “We tried to be lovers once, about three years ago, when I first came back to Envy. But it didn’t work. I was . . . well, I was a mess, having finally escaped from Preston. And Vaughn had recently lost a woman he loved. So instead of becoming lovers, we became friends—and let everyone else think we were involved. Because it was easier for both of us.”
He nodded. Yeah, right. She might disavow her interest in Rogan, but Elliott wasn’t stupid. The Marlboro Man wannabe was definitely interested in going beyond friendship. He’d be a fool not to be even if it hadn’t been blazing in his eyes for all to see.
“Thank you for telling me,” Elliott said at last. And waited to see what she’d say about Luke.
She looked at him, but didn’t speak. Silence hung there for a moment, blending with the dust motes that wavered in the half-light, and the only sound was the low rush of their breathing and a faint crackle in the pot of fire.
And after a long moment, she looked away. “I think I’m ready for some sleep,” she said.
Elliott felt as if he’d missed something important. Had she expected him to suddenly sweep her into his arms after her confession?
“I’ll keep watch,” he said. He didn’t think the Stranger would be able to get back, but he wasn’t going to be stupid about it.
Despite the burning in his dry eyes and the continued trembling in his muscles, the ache in his head, the weariness that he’d managed to put aside for a while, Elliott knew he’d be unable to sleep.
Especially when he had to watch over Jade.
Chapter 12
Jade woke in a pale yellow dawn to find Elliott curled around her.
She lay there for a moment without moving, simply feeling. Warm, muscular arms wrapped around her from behind, her head tucked under his chin, his legs curled into hers at the backside of her knees. Even his feet angled gently beneath her heels. A blanket covered them both.
She was warm, and comfortable, and she felt . . . utterly relaxed. Free.
Free to be who she was, free to do what she wished without any expectation from the man touching her. Free to make decisions, and to have him not only listen to her opinions, but to accept them. Act on them.
Free to retreat, as she had, to the other side of the fire last night. Without feeling as if she had to follow through on what had been one hell of a kiss.
And a revelation too. Elliott had wanted her, and yet . . . he’d wanted her on his own terms.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. And so she’d withdrawn, half expecting him to demand, or to coax, or seduce—especially after she’d explained about Vaughn. And not about Luke. Because she realized she didn’t have to answer to him. She wouldn’t. He’d have to take her as she was, or not at all. She had nothing to hide or to be ashamed of.
And so he’d simply taken her explanation, thanked her for it, and that was it.
He was different. Sensitive, serious, smart . . . and holy-crap strong. Even now, the memory of those sleek muscles moving with such grace in the Tunnel, the fierce battle against the Stranger here in this very room after he’d tried to get her to run to safety . . . it made her warm and tingly inside in a basic, female way. Her mouth went dry. Her heart picked up speed. Her belly did that little flip that sent tingles through her.
That kiss had been just the tip of the iceberg, though it had been anything but cold. Hot and sleek and oh-my-God. Definitely.
But the fact that he’d wanted it too—oh,
he’d definitely wanted it—and had declined . . . what kind of man did that? Especially one who’d shown off his prowess and masculinity hours earlier?
What kind of man was he, to reject her advances, and then to curl around her in the night while she was sleeping? To keep her warm, and to expect nothing else.
“Are you ready?” came his voice near her ear, surprising her. Though it was low and deep, it didn’t sound as if he’d just awakened.
And then . . . oh my. She realized what she felt pressing into her rear, hard and rigid. A wisp of regret slipped through her, just for a moment. Then it was gone. She wanted him too. No doubt about that.
Jade twisted around in his embrace, awkward because of their position, but she managed to get halfway toward him, her face toward the water-stained ceiling instead of looking away. She saw the dark fringe of lashes over his ocean blue eyes, and how a lock of dark hair had caught just at the tips of them. God, he was breathtaking to look at, with those full lips and square chin and dark brows.
“Mmhmmm,” she said. “And I’m not the only one, hmm?” She shifted her hip teasingly into his hard-on.
His face turned grim. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.” He released her, and with his body no longer acting like a wedge, she rolled fully onto her back. “I meant, are you ready to get going,” he said, pulling to his feet.
“Sure.”
Jade wasn’t certain whether to be embarrassed or elated that he’d rejected her yet again, but the look in his eyes tipped her toward the elated side. She didn’t really understand why he was saying no when his whole body was practically vibrating with yes, especially since she’d told him about Vaughn. He couldn’t seriously think she had any interest in that lunk Luke, did he? Especially after that ridiculous comment he’d made about dropping his prices if she put Greenside on her Running route. But it was all right with her if Elliott wanted some space.
At least for now. Because she had bigger things to worry about. Like where Theo was, and what kind of cargo Nurmikko was putting together.
“There’s water collected outside,” Elliott said as he stood. “To wash up. And I want to take a look at that humvee.”
Jade frowned as she gathered up her pack. “I was thinking, as I fell asleep last night, that it was a little odd to find a Stranger alone. Usually they travel in twos or threes. And the fact that he attacked us right away . . . it made me wonder if those two facts are connected.”
“Like, he was alone because he’d gone rogue or something?” Elliott asked. Her confusion must have shown on her face, for he explained, “Gone off on his own. Maybe he did and expected someone to come after him—and that was why he attacked first.”
“That could be.” Jade looked around the room. “He was lying there when we came in. Maybe he had something with him he was trying to protect.”
The huge tree branch that had broken the window lay amid splinters and shards on the floor, and she noticed that there were other pieces of wood and glass embedded in the walls from the gale force. She shivered. How easily it could have been one of them that were skewered by the missiles.
Desks and chairs, a variety of electronics, debris from the storm, other items she couldn’t identify had been strewn around the room as well. Ashes smoldered in the waste can. She walked over to where the Stranger appeared to have been sleeping, shoving the tree branch away.
“What’s this?” she asked, lifting an oblong metal object that looked like it would open and close. “A stapler?”
“Yep,” Elliott replied, looking up momentarily from his own explorations. “Hey. I found something.” He lifted a backpack that didn’t appear to be old or torn and began to rifle through it. A moment later, she heard a soft jingle and he pulled his hand out, holding a set of keys. “I’m betting these are to the humvee,” he said, a smile breaking over his face. “We might be driving back to Envy.”
Jade’s heart leaped. She sure would like him to smile at her like that. “I haven’t been in a truck for a long time,” she said, remembering how unpleasant her last trip had been. That was when Raul Marck had captured her after her second escape attempt, and brought her back to Preston. For a big reward, of course.
Elliott pulled more items out of the pack, including a little book. Standing there, hips cocked to one side as he used an elbow to hold the backpack against him, he flipped through the book. The sun filtered in behind him, highlighting the dust stirred up by their investigations and tingeing the edges of his rich dark hair. Last night, she’d smoothed her hands over the wide, square shoulders and felt the swell of muscle beneath his warm skin, and watching that tall, lean figure in rugged jeans and a close-fitting red shirt made her feel all lightheaded and tingly.
Jade moistened her lips and swallowed. Whew. There was definitely something about Elliott Drake. Maybe she would be willing to answer to him.
No. That was ridiculous.
“What’s in the book?” she asked, unable to keep from moving closer to him. His hands, large and powerful, were nevertheless elegantly shaped, with long, tanned fingers. She noticed two blackened fingernails and a few cuts on the side of his thumb.
“Lists of people, it looks like. Not an address book—it’s got ages and gender listed. Hmm. Height and weight? A list of patients?” He seemed to be talking to himself, thinking aloud. “Some drawings that look like maps. And . . . hey, I’ve seen this before,” he said, his voice taut as he stabbed one of his fingers at the book. “But I can’t remember.”
“Let me see,” she said, moving closer, her heart suddenly clogging her throat. She was suddenly so aware of him, so eager to get close to him. And yet, her palms sprang damp and her pulse pounded.
She looked around his arm at the book, and saw the symbol there. The labyrinth with a swastika superimposed on it and a border that looked like curling waves. She knew it well. “Oh, yes. That’s the symbol the Strangers use to identify themselves.”
Elliott murmured, “I’ve seen it somewhere before.” He pressed his lips together as Jade stepped back, for self-preservation as much as to be able to look at him. “Quent will know. He’s probably the one who showed it to me.” He slammed the book shut and shoved it back into the pack. “We’d better get going, see if I can get the truck started.”
“On to Envy.”
The second morning he woke in Envy, Quent tried to find his way back to Lou’s hidden computer center, and ended up in some dank, dirty, overgrown area inside the hotel. Every bloody time he touched a wall, he heard screams and saw blood and visionless eyes and other nightmarish images of crumbling walls, yawning crevices, fire, and raging destruction.
Sagging, sweat pouring down his face and terror in his brain, he closed his eyes, fighting the pull of memories that didn’t belong to him. Memories he didn’t want and didn’t need . . . thoughts he could no longer control.
The floor rose up beneath him, and he was swept away into madness and fear and pain. . . .
“Quent!”
The sound of his name tugged at him, and then pressure on his shoulders and arm drew him from the darkness that had overtaken him. Slowly, slowly, his mind crawled back to reality, and at last he opened his eyes.
Elliott Drake looked down at him.
“Quent, what the hell are you doing here?” His face was taut with concern. “What happened?” Before he could reply, Dred’s hands were moving over him, scanning to be certain he wasn’t injured.
But it wasn’t his body that was fucked up.
“I got lost,” he said, sitting up slowly. It had never been this bad before . . . the memories had never been that strong, that overwhelming. He realized with a deep, leveling shock that he no longer recognized his environment. Hadn’t his last real memory been of an overgrown part of the hotel, inside the building?
Now a blue sky blazed above him and moss-covered, mildew-blackened buildings rose in close quarters around him. He was lying on the ground, outside, and Dred and the woman . . . Jade . . . were crouched next to him.
Quent reached out and connected with Dred’s hand. No, it was really him, real flesh and blood. “What are you doing here?” he managed to ask.
“We just got back. We were coming into town and found you here.” Dred looked as though he were ready to call the guys in the white coats, and maybe he damn well should. “How long have you been here?”
Quent shook his head. “I don’t know. I was looking for Lou’s room and got lost. The next thing I know, I touched something. The memories swarmed over me, the images and violence . . . I don’t remember anything after that.” He was sitting up fully now, and only a lingering cloudiness remained. “Is it still Wednesday? I left my room around nine thirty or so.”
Elliott’s face relaxed a little. “Yes. It’s not quite noon on Wednesday. So you haven’t been gone for too long.”
Thank God.
“But you’re back from . . . where did you go?”
“A place called Greenside,” Jade said, speaking for the first time. “We have some things for Lou to look at, and Elliott thought you should take a look as well.” She sat back on her haunches and glanced at Dred. “It’s a good thing we came back in through the Tunnel, or we wouldn’t have found you here, in this area of town.” She glanced up and gestured to the building closest to him. “You must have come out here, which is on the unused side of the place. This is where we go in and come out when we don’t want to be seen.”
Dred was nodding. “Can you stand?”
“Yeah, as long as I don’t fucking touch anything I ought to be just fine,” he said flatly.
“Let’s go in and find Lou,” Jade said. “Maybe get you something to eat.”
Quent nodded, standing on his own, and wondering how the hell he was going to get through the rest of his life here in this place if he couldn’t touch anything unfamiliar without going into a tailspin.
He could use something to eat . . . or, better yet, something bloody strong to drink.