Blood of Eve

by Pam Godwin

  I glanced at the shore, searching for my weapons. “Uh huh. What am I feeling now?”

  “Vulnerable. Unarmed.” He lowered his chin, his gaze brushing over my chest as he stroked a finger down my back. Then he looked away and nodded at the tree line. “I hid your guns under the brush.”

  I shook my head, smiling. “Lucky guess.”

  When my eyes flicked back to his, he asked, “What did the Drone say?”

  Prickles iced down my back. “He knew what his bite would do to Michio.”

  He inhaled through his nose and leaned in to— Holy shit. Was he going to kiss me?

  I held still as his mouth lowered to mine, hesitantly, maddeningly erasing the inches. He paused, angled his chin up, and kissed my brow.

  Well, it was something, and damn if I didn’t memorize the brief brush of his lips, the heat of his exhale, and the tightening of his fingers against my waist and neck.

  He lowered my body, steadying me until my feet touched the muddy bottom. Then he reached beneath the surface and tugged a beige bar from his pocket.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You have…soap in your pocket?”

  “You can thank Georges.” He lathered it up. “He tossed it to me when I told him to guard while we bathed.” He looked away, his eyes shuttering, and glanced back. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  I strained my vision to examine the surrounding woods, and off in the distance, the shadowy outline of Tallis’ shoulders came into view. “But now we have soap.” I attempted a smile, and it came easy because Wow. I hadn’t seen soap since, hell, a lifetime ago. “Wonder what else Georges is keeping from us.”

  “He found some girly supplies in one of those buildings.” He nodded to the structures off to the south.

  What did Jesse consider girly?

  “Like what?”

  “You wanna highlight your hair?”

  Ridiculous. I shook my head.

  “Paint your nails?”

  I crinkled my nose.

  “How about some Midol for your crabby moods?”

  Funny guy. I hadn’t had a period in four years because of the IUD. “I’m not crabby.”

  “Lower your head.”

  I did, bracing my hands on my thighs beneath the water. He combed the bubbles through my hair, rubbing the bar over my scalp as he went. His fingers were attentive, distracting, magical. All I could do was breathe. So I breathed some more, sucking air as quietly as humanly possible.

  “What else did the Drone say?”

  He expected me to have a conversation right now? Sweet pissing hell, this was torture.

  Bent slightly forward, my upper body was still unnervingly exposed above the waist-deep water as I scrubbed the edges of my fingernails. “He said we want the same thing. Nymphs.”

  The carved ridges of his abs flexed inches from my face as his fingers worked the bar through the ends of the ratty mess. “You can rinse.”

  Sweet hell, the hoarseness in his voice and the hooded glaze in his eyes produced a tingly throb between my legs.

  Squatting, I dipped beneath the surface and shook out the bubbles. When I rose before him, his gaze lowered. The turquoise necklace he’d given me hung between my breasts, but his eyes were fixed on the C-shaped scar that curved from my collarbone to beneath my boob. His lips bowed down at the corners.

  Not this again. He had stopped the mastectomy from being completed, but he blamed himself for not killing my attacker before the dissection began. For that reason alone, I resented the ugly thing.

  “If this scar wasn’t here,” I said softly, “where would your eyes be?”

  His head snapped up, mouth set in a grim line. Suds floated along the waistband of his narrow hips, his white-knuckled grip around the soap creating more bubbles.

  I grinned. “Taking off those jeans will be fun.”

  The soap bar plunged into the water between us.

  I eyed him through my lashes, and man oh man, that scowl. He was so volatile, standoffish, very much the loner in the group. No wonder his Lakota name was Lone Eagle. But despite his coarse personality, his body was a work of art, every sculpted edge polished and honed with care. From the lean cut of his waist to the broad stretch of his shoulders, corded muscles sloped and flared over a canvas of strength. And those indentions that dipped low on his hips served as a teasing road map to the mystery he refused to expose.

  My face heated. I’d never seen him without pants, never felt even a nudge of an erection, but I bet his cock was just as hard and intimidating as the rest of him.

  Shit, I was staring. “I just meant… Wet jeans are, you know, heavy, sticky?” Awkward.

  He cleared his throat and paddled the water for the runaway soap. “I’m multitasking. Laundry and bath. Two birds…” His hand rose, one soap secured.

  My bloody clothes scattered the shore. Wish I’d thought of that.

  He jerked his chin in the direction of his pack. “I brought you fresh clothes.”

  Of course he did, always looking after me. As he stood there with water beading on his flat stomach, I wanted to catch those drips with my tongue, follow the rivulets beneath the surface, and thank him intimately.

  The hardness in his glare warned me off. Seriously, as an experienced stalker…err, tracker, he was as deadly with those looks as he was with the bow.

  I snatched the soap from his hand. “Your turn.”

  To my surprise, he unstrapped his bow and quiver and sank to his knees. Holding the weapon to the side, he wet his hair then stared up at me expectantly. The way the moonlight glanced off the coppery pools of his eyes… Fuck, he was killing me.

  He didn’t look at my boobs, which were right there, inches from his face. But we were both aware of my nudity, pretending to ignore the heat stirring the small sliver of air between our bodies.

  His distance had become so ingrained, I felt knocked off my axis. My hands actually shook as I pushed the sudsy soap through his hair. The strands fell around my fingers in thick, heavy, shockingly soft clumps.

  I’d done this often for Roark and Michio. But Roark’s hair was a tangle of dreads and braids, and Michio kept his short, leaving little to hold onto.

  A hum rumbled from Jesse’s chest. Or was that a moan?

  I massaged his scalp, smoothed out the knots, and lost track of time, discovering, giving, and…closing the distance. When his forehead brushed the skin between my breasts, he jerked away, ducked his head, and rinsed.

  I chewed my lip, wondering if it would always be this strained between us. The impact of his visions returned with a vengeance, pushing against my chest and weighing down my shoulders.

  He stood to his full height, slipped the bow and arrows over his back, and plucked the soap from my grip. I expected him to haul me out of the pond and return to business as usual. We needed to check on Michio and the nymph and give the others a chance to bathe.

  But he didn’t move. His hair, which normally stuck up in finger-raked spikes, now hung in wet strands across his forehead. His nostrils flared with a deep breath, and his lips bounced between a grimace and a smirk. He seemed to be wrestling with something.

  My hand reached up of its own accord and traced the ridges of his chest.

  His muscles bunched beneath my fingers. Again, he didn’t push me away. He wanted affection, needed it. What would he do if I demanded we pick up where we left off in France and move beyond that first and only kiss?

  As I roamed his chest, a shudder went through him. There, battling across his expression, was something I recognized. His arousal was palpable, charging the air, shortening his breaths, and spiking my pulse. If I voiced it, would he bolt? Only one way to find out.

  “We both want this. If it’s your restraint you’re worried about—”

  “Evie—”

  “—I’ll stop you. I’ll say no before it goes too far.”

  His knuckles blanched around the soap. “I wouldn’t…”

  “Wouldn’t what? Stop?” I slid my hand down t
he hairless planks of his torso and traced the V of his abs. “You wouldn’t force me. Trust me to say no.”

  Shadows deepened his dilated pupils. A heartbeat passed. Two. Thr—

  Plunk went the soap.

  He gripped my waist and yanked me against him, bringing his mouth to mine. The electric slide of lips shimmied through my whole body, the movement of his jaw restrained and slow but deliciously mouth-covering. Finally, he licked along the seam, requesting entry. I gave it up in the next breath and parted my lips.

  The first touch of Jesse’s tongue was a shock to my system. The next came like a tidal wave, ripping through every cell of my body and tingling my fingers and toes. Our mouths melded, our breaths collided, and our hands began to move.

  His hands slid into my hair and gripped the back of my thigh. I stretched on tip-toes, climbing his towering frame and hooking my arms around his neck.

  Tilting my head with his hand, he deepened the kiss, his restraint loosening with each diving reach of his tongue. “Say no.”

  To a kiss? I laughed into his mouth and held him tighter. “Not yet.”

  He dug his fingers against my back, bringing me closer for a better angle against my mouth. I hugged his shoulders, reveling in the slide of our chests. The way he lifted me and the position of my groin against his belly, I knew he could feel the friction of my pubic hair against his skin. He’d never been this close and personal with my nudity.

  We kissed for an eternity, making up for so many lost moments. He sucked and licked and ate at my mouth, the intensity and skill of his tongue expressing his thoughts before he spoke them.

  “Fuck, Evie.” Sultry tones infused his breath. “There was a spring-fed creek near the reservation.” His hands roamed the rise of my ass, fingers sliding down the crease and squeezing a fleshy cheek. “The water was so pure and clean you could taste the minerals from the soil and the fallen sprigs of mountain mint.” He nibbled, pulling my bottom lip with his teeth. “You taste like that.” He sucked on my tongue, released it. “Natural.” Another sip. “Vital.” Then he kissed me like he was taking the flavor of his memories from my lips.

  God have mercy. I was lost in his poetic honesty, the heat of his mouth, the velvety feel of his lips. I wanted to know all of him, feel him, and bite after bite, he fed me more.

  The water lapped at our hips, and the humidity in the air enveloped us in a warm cocoon. So many sensations burst inside me, but one in particular concentrated below my waist and throbbed between my legs.

  His breathing slowed, and his hands returned to my waist. I felt immediate loss when he tore his mouth away, panting.

  “Jesse.”

  He put his frown on my uninjured cheekbone. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Don’t ruin it.”

  His frown became a scrape of teeth across my jaw and ended with a nibble on my lips. “Don’t you know? You are my everything. My anguish. My heaven. There is nothing but you.”

  I hummed, unable to contain the conflicting rush of contentment and loss. “And your visions?”

  His palms traveled up my arms, over my shoulders, down my back. He pulled me closer, chests aligned, our breaths in sync. “You are my visions.”

  I hated them, the omens that burdened him, but my feelings didn’t make them go away. “We’re not stopping at that kiss.” His jaw set, but I kept talking. “Doesn’t have to be tonight, but Jesse, we’re not going to pretend this didn’t happen. We’ll work through it, figure it out.” I tilted my head to catch his eyes. “Which means more talking. Okay?”

  He dipped his chin in a nod, rubbing his cheek against mine. The scruffy hairs on his face tickled against my skin. Just another coarse, masculine attribute that deliciously defined him.

  “I have another request.”

  He looked away, the muscles in his face tightening.

  “Are you listening?”

  His eyes flicked back to mine.

  “Never ever shave that stubble.”

  He rubbed his jaw, the scratchy sound drifting around us as he returned my grin. “I lost the soap.”

  What a gorgeous fucking smile. It filled me with all kinds of hope. “I’ll trade the last bar of soap on the planet for a kiss like that any day.”

  His smile dimmed to a smirk then faded completely. His eyes seemed to darken, deepening with purpose and responsibility.

  I held his gaze, aware he was seconds from shutting down, and clutched the turquoise stone on my breast bone. “A wise man told me that turquoise strengthens one’s ability to love and connect with others.”

  Though the stone was a gift from Jesse, Akicita had explained its value when he tied it around my neck the first time I left the Lakota in the mountains. It had been with me through some ugly shit, but it had done its job. I’d learned to accept love again, three times over.

  Lifting the leather strap over my head, I held it up. When he lowered his head, I secured it around his neck. “Just a loaner. When it’s done doing its thing, I want it back.”

  The corner of his mouth tugged up. “Indian giver.”

  “Since you gave it to me, I think that makes you the Indian giver.”

  His hand covered the rock on his chest, and the shadows on his face softened.

  “Evie. Evie?” The voice called out behind me, drawled in an Irish accent.

  I spun toward it, suddenly blinded by the beam of a flashlight. Jesse took two steps back, his movements rippling the water.

  The stark light darted to the shore, and Roark’s worried expression appeared through the lingering spots in my vision. “Doc did a legger.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Jesse snapped, already on the move.

  I rubbed my forehead, my attention on the trees. “Means he ran.”

  Jesse threw his arms up. “You’re supposed to be watching him.”

  Roark jogged to the water’s edge. “Have ye seen how fast the bugger moves? What was I supposed to do? Hack off his noggin?”

  My heart gave a horrified thump. “No! If anyone—” My voice came out harsher than I intended. I softened my tone. “If anyone hurts him, I swear—”

  “No swearing needed, love.” Roark waved the light over the trees. “He wanted to see ye. Couldn’t be arsed when I refused him, so—” The flashlight beam flicked back to my eyes. “Wha’ the feck happened to your face?”

  “We’ll get into that after we find Michio.” I waded to the shore and dressed on autopilot, with Jesse glued to my side.

  “Jesus suffering fuck.” Roark slammed his boot into a rock, sent it skittering along the shore. “Nothing worse than a standing prick.”

  Whatever that meant. I pulled on the t-shirt, buttoned the jeans, and gathered my blades from the shore. “It’s not like we were keeping him prisoner, Roark.”

  Of the four of us, Michio had always been the fastest and smartest, trained in hand-to-hand combat and a genius IQ to match. And now? He was a force of nature. Roark wouldn’t have been able to restrain him. And I didn’t want him to.

  If they made an enemy out of Michio, the outcome would be devastating. My heart felt like it was folding in on itself, as if protecting me from some unimaginable decisions on the horizon. But of all Michio’s faults—his jealous possessiveness, his omissions of truth, his new craving—one thing was certain.

  “He would never intentionally hurt me.” I finished lacing my boots and strode to the tree line in search of my guns. “I just need to tread carefully.”

  “And always have backup,” Roark bit back in warning, matching my strides.

  Jesse jogged ahead and led us to a drooping bush. As he removed my guns from the ground cover, his voice dropped low and growly. “I trust you to say no.”

  I strapped on my weapons. “I told you—”

  His finger pressed against my lips. “I don’t mean just me.”

  Michio. When I glanced at Roark, he had an eyebrow cocked, watching our interaction.

  Was this the time to remind Jesse my nightmares were a
living hell if I slept without a bed partner, and with Michio out of the rotation, he might have to take a turn in filling the empty spot on my bedroll?

  Jesse’s eyebrows slanted in a V, his gaze tapered with impatience.

  Nope. “Fine.” It was anything but fine.

  Michio was out there somewhere, alone with whatever was happening to his body, and no doubt worrying about me and his place in our group. I’d hated him once, but that hate had been misguided and eventually developed into something selfless and joyous and safe.

  I held onto that as I walked toward the animal clinic. “Which way did he go?”

  Nervous energy coursed through my veins as Roark led Jesse and me to a man-made island on the north side of the animal reserve. Took us thirty minutes to hike there in the dark, and not a single trace of Michio. I wasn’t sure what worried me more. Finding him mutated into a crazed monster. Or not finding him at all.

  But how fast would mutation occur? It had been three months since he was bitten, and I’d noticed very little change, aside from the teeth and the inhuman reflexes, both of which he’d been hiding. What else was he keeping from me?

  With Jesse’s shadow hovering at my elbow, I walked the edge of a concrete moat of black water, squinting at the strange structure towering over the land at the center. Trees surrounded massive rock walls, which were hollowed out with crevices and caves. Way too many places for creatures to hide.

  I couldn’t stop my nerves from rattling my voice. “What is this place?”

  Roark paused in front of me, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Relax the cacks, love.” His gaze roamed the ring of water, snagging on the rippling reflections of moonlight. “It was an island for monkeys. See the vines?”

  He pointed to the canopy, and sure enough, braids of thick rope snaked between the trees. But not a monkey in sight. A closer look at the field surrounding the moat confirmed that Georges stood some thirty yards off, rifle in hand. And we left Tallis with Shea, who was still safely caged and sleeping.

  I drew a deep breath. “Are you sure Michio headed this way?”

  What if he left? Would he do that? Leave me? Panic spiraled through me, but I paced my breathing, shoulders squared, chin up.