by Pam Godwin
“Shea!” Roark’s voice punched like a jolt of electricity on the top of my head. “She’s having another seizure!”
It felt as though my organs froze solid, dead and splintering, too late to thaw out. I screamed at the agony, trying to shove free and unable to make my arms or legs work.
Everything went black.
The pain disappeared, and I floated in a vacuum, watching myself from above, circling around my distressed body as it writhed and tumbled into the emptiness.
A bright wash of light flooded my senses, illuminating my house in Missouri. Hundreds of cracks forked across the stone facing, each fissure in the foundation sprouting leafy tendrils that stretched upward, swallowing my beloved home. The driveway crumbled into broken slabs, the concrete pieces tilting, giving way to the soil pushing free beneath it. And there, in Annie’s window on the top floor, waited the dark silhouette of a man, the outline of wings behind him, and the black unfathomable caverns of his soulless eyes.
The dream flickered, like a light bulb turning on, turning off, on, off, until all I saw was that pulsing globe.
Light bulbs didn’t glow in the real world, but I was certain I was no longer dreaming.
“Where am I?” Ow, fuck. Had I swallowed razorblades?
The surface beneath me bounced. A bed?
I tortured my throat again. “Where—”
“Shhh.” A voice hushed in my ear.
The cool lip of a glass rested against my lips. I swallowed, choked, and lifted my head for more, but the water moved out of reach.
“Evie.”
I opened my eyes at the sound of Jesse’s voice, blinded by the glare of an overhead light. I blinked rapidly, focusing on the bulb. A light bulb?
There it was, screwed into a socket in a ceiling I’d never seen before, surrounded by peeling paint and cracked plaster, its filaments burning with electricity.
“Where are we?” I tried to sit up but my arms wouldn’t cooperate. I looked toward his face, and yellow halos blotted my vision. I’d stared at that damned bulb for too long. “Where’s Roark?”
“Here, love.”
I gasped at the nearness of his accent, so fucking relieved he was lying on my other side. I tried to move toward him, and my aching body clenched in pain. “What about Shea? Darwin?”
“Everyone’s safe.” Jesse’s face filled my view, his stubble thicker but trimmed, the hair on his head clean and clipped short around his ears.
He smiled softly, his expression content despite the fatigue swelling his pink-tinged eyelids.
I turned my head to see Roark, and my breath caught. His dreadlocks were gone, his face completely shaved. I wouldn’t have recognized him at first had it not been for the jade pools of his gorgeous eyes. My God, he looked young. Refined. Like a goddamned gentleman.
I reached up, my arm wobbling in a haze of disorientation, and smoothed my palm over the soft skin on his jaw. I pushed my hand over his ear, his blond curls sifting through my fingers. He leaned closer, allowing me to feel the textured length around the back. Short, but long enough to curl at the ends.
My nostrils filled with the scent of soap and fresh linen. “You smell different.”
It wasn’t a bad smell. It just wasn’t his smell. I played with the satiny curls around his ear and nape. His hair felt amazing, and I bet he didn’t miss the itchy dreadlocks, but I mourned the loss, aching for the comfort of familiarity.
“A shave and a shower, love. It’s feckin’ cla, isn’t it?”
A working shower? A glowing light bulb? My hand fell away. “How? Wait, how long have I been out?”
Jesse cupped my face, angling it toward his. “Two weeks.”
I inhaled a deep breath, chasing off the shock enough to speak. “How? That’s not possible. I mean, how did I eat? Why don’t I feel hungry?”
He tucked my hair behind my ear. “You ate what we fed you. Your body did all the things it needed to survive, but your mind wasn’t…” He glanced up at Roark and returned to me. “It wasn’t here.”
Awake but not aware? Was it a self-preservation mechanism? A cataleptic way to block out the pain?
Jesse gripped my hand and placed my palm against the coppery whiskers on his face. “I wanted to get rid of this, but you told me once to never ever shave.”
My heart gave a heavy thump. Could I love this man any more than I already did?
He turned his head, pressing his mouth against my fingers. “We’re in Charlottesville, Virginia. About eighty miles from Arkendale.”
My pulse revved up, and my muscles tensed, triggering sudden pressure in my bladder. I clamped my hands over my lower belly. “What happened to the plan? The peninsula? Where are the women? All the nymphs?”
“Up ye go.” Roark scooped my naked body into his arms. “Told ye the bettys are safe. Empty your bladder, then we’ll tell ye the rest.”
He carried me through the bedroom, passing heavy wooden furniture, ornate rugs, and framed pictures of unfamiliar faces peeking through a layer of dust and cobwebs. They’d found an extravagant house to hole up in, but it was quiet. Too quiet. The women weren’t here.
I lay my heavy head against his shoulder, noticing he wore a shirt for the first time in months. Jesse trailed behind us, hands in the pockets of clean-looking jeans, his beautiful torso also hidden by a t-shirt, the red cotton unsoiled and free of holes and tears. Despite the new clothes, my savage man still had his scruff, his predatory gait, and his intense glare.
Inside the attached bathroom, Roark set me on a toilet. Marble spread out around us, and a single bulb burned over the vanity. Little flower-shaped soaps lay in a ceramic dish on the counter. Embroidered towels hung on brass hangers. A pair of men’s slippers waited beside the glass shower. What the hell was this place?
“Toilet and shower works.” Jesse perched on the tub across from me, his gaze glued to mine as if he was afraid I’d disappear. “There’s a generator pumping the well water and powering the lights.”
I’d woken in another dimension, in a land of marble and crazy filled with what-the-fuck shit, where everyone used toilets and wore clean shirts and shaved their beards beneath electric lights. Once upon a time, this was the only place that made sense, but now it was all so very odd. Fancy little things and ideas spun round and round. Or was the room spinning? Maybe it was just the weak state of my underused mind and body.
Roark squatted beside me and steadied my teetering shoulders as I released my bladder.
“Shea and Darwin are downstairs with Paul and Eddie.” His thumb stroked over my arm. “We left everyone else in Arkendale this morning.”
“What?” My head snapped up. Oh fuck, I felt dizzy.
“Back to bed.” He tore off some toilet paper and made a move to wipe me, obviously accustomed to performing this task.
I swatted at his head and grabbed the wad, my fuzzy head muddling through this alternate universe of toilet paper and flushing water.
That done, I glimpsed a toothbrush on the counter, the sight of it prompting my tongue to drag over my teeth. The enamel felt smooth. No grit.
I licked my lips and tasted mint. “Did you guys brush my teeth?”
“Aye.” Roark lifted me and carried me back to the bed. “And daily baths.”
It was probably insignificant compared to all the things they did for me while I was out of it, but something about the simple gesture in cleaning my teeth and washing my body filled me with an insane amount of warmth.
I lay on my back, my gaze locked on the bulb in the ceiling. “Does Arkendale have electricity and running water?”
“Yes.” Jesse climbed in bed beside me, pulling the sheet over my chilled skin. “The scouts Link had sent ahead negotiated a partnership with the existing residents.”
“There were men there?”
“Forty or so.” Roark sat on the edge of the mattress. “And a handful of nymphs. The men kept them confined on the peninsula to protect them. They’d already constructed a wall where the cape
connects to Virginia.”
I could guess the rest. “Link offered to cure their nymphs as he barged his way in and took over their sanctuary?”
“He’s a brutal one right enough.” Roark pushed his fingers through the curly waves of his hair, such an odd thing to witness having never seen him without knots. “Can’t say I agree with his methods, but they’re fecking effective. Over two-hundred cured women now reside on the peninsula, and there was a rake of nymphs still marching in when we left this morning. They’ll run out of room soon, if they haven’t already.”
Holy fucking shit. My mind scrambled through all the issues that would come with that many people. Water, food, medicine, housing, sewage, protection… How could Link manage it?
“Why aren’t we there?” As soon as the question left my mouth, I knew. “Because of me?”
Jesse placed his hand on my breastbone, his fingers curling against the thin sheet. “Evie, you struggled for every breath for two weeks. Seizures. Screaming. Vomiting blood. All those nymphs in one place was killing you.”
Thank fuck I couldn’t recall any of that, though the rawness in my throat and aching weakness in my muscles whined in memory.
“We had to get ye out of there.” Roark braced his elbows on his knees and stared at the carpet between his bare feet. “We drove until your breathing normalized.”
“The other women didn’t have the same reaction?”
Jesse watched me in that way he did, his eyes not just seeing me, but assessing me. Measuring the pace of my breaths. Gaging how much muscle I’d lost. Estimating my current pain levels. “Some of them complained about nausea and chills, but you took the full brunt of it, darlin’.”
The women didn’t suffer. I let my head sink into the pillow and breathed deeply. “I didn’t lead any of the nymphs away from Arkendale? Those that still needed to be cured continued toward the larger congregation of women?”
In a way, every woman alive was my descendant. They would give off similar signals, like the scent trail ants left for their buddies. Assembled together in one place, they formed a boosted signal, a powerful beacon that no doubt muted mine.
Of course, Michio would call all this hypothetical, but he wasn’t here, which left me to operate on instinct and guesswork.
“Yeah.” Jesse picked up the blonde lock of my hair that lay across my chest, watching the strands fall around his fingers. “When we drove past a few nymphs on the road, their heads tracked you. They knew you were in the car. But they continued in the direction of the peninsula.”
“A few stragglers came by today,” Roark said, gently. “Shea healed them, and they’ve been taken to Arkendale.”
Jesse closed his eyes. “Had we known not all the nymphs would follow you, we would’ve taken you away immediately. We just assumed…”
“Hey.” I curled my hand around his. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
I didn’t remember the ride to Arkendale or the two weeks I’d spent there. I remembered nothing except the dream about my home and the Drone and the light bulb.
Jesse and Roark had taken care of me all that time. If I really thought about what that meant, it was difficult to accept. I’d been vacant, helpless, and unable to defend myself. They’d hauled around my dead weight, feeding me, cleaning me, and searching for a way to ease my pain. But who took care of them?
I went with an easy question. “Who cut your hair?”
Jesse gestured between them, and Roark stared at the floor, a smile pulling at his lips.
Cutting hair involved touching, fingers trailing over scalps, showing one another attention. Maybe even affection. They had taken care of each other, and I’d missed the pleasure in witnessing that. “What other bonding moments did I miss? Any more kissing?”
Roark crawled up the bed, carrying a grin tucked in the corner of his mouth, and stretched out on my other side. “Why do ye think I shaved?” He rubbed his hairless chin over my cheek and pointed that grin at Jesse. “He prefers me smooth.”
I expected a fist to come flying at his face, but Jesse simply reclined against the headboard and folded his hands on his chest, smiling and shaking his head. Roark might’ve been taunting him, but there was definitely an easy comfort between them. Fuck, I loved that.
And of course, I couldn’t let it drop. “Two weeks together…” When Jesse met my eyes, I nudged his leg with mine. “You thought about that kiss.”
He didn’t move, didn’t let go of his smile as he watched me from beneath heavy eyelids. “I thought about kissing you, and you weren’t in a position to stop me.”
Like I would ever stop him. “I really don’t know how you resisted between all the seizures and bloody vomit.”
His smile fell, and he rolled against me, burying his face in my neck. “Damn, it’s fucking good to have you back, darlin’.”
I held him to my chest, combing my fingers through his hair. Roark curled against my other side, and I wrapped my arm behind his shoulders, hugging both of them to me, as my mind drifted with the steady beats of their hearts. Here, in the complacency of fresh sheets and haircuts, without the aroma of body odor, the sight of weapons, or the hungry buzz of aphids gnawing at my stomach, it was easy to imagine the plague had never happened.
Outside the windows, the sky faded down into darkness, yet we easily saw one another beneath the light of a bulb. I wanted to believe that bulb meant something, that it symbolized a turning point in our struggle, that life would get easier, that a bright and shiny future was already in motion.
But we wouldn’t have had electric light without the aid of a generator. And if I checked the mattress, the packs on the floor, and the clothes they wore, I’d find an arsenal of weapons. Shea, Paul, and Eddie weren’t sitting downstairs watching reruns and eating ice cream. They were holding their blades and arrows close, tense in their vigilance, guarding the house.
“I’m glad I’m here, with both of you, but I wish here was ten years from now.” I drew a breath, my chest rising beneath Jesse’s weight. “I wish here included Michio.”
Roark parted his lips to say something, but instead, he grabbed hold of my face, pulled me from Jesse’s embrace, and buried his tongue in my mouth. My senses flooded with an incredible taste of oak, chocolate, and whiskey, the eclectic medley exuding a sharpness and vitality that worked so well together, combined with the comforting scent of his skin. These tastes and smells were the signatures of my priest.
As he stretched my mouth open with his, I expected urgency and heat and weeks of pent-up need to come barreling down on me, but he didn't give me that.
He slowed down, drawing his tongue over my lips, not to arouse but to soothe. The velvety skin of his hairless face slid against mine, warming my nerve-endings, and his hands on my jaw didn’t force. They supported.
The gentle glide of his mouth told me he missed me, that he’d been worried, and the parting bite of his teeth punctuated his words. “I’ve died a million deaths since I’ve met ye, but all it takes is your kiss to remind me why I’m still breathing.”
I reached for his face only to be guided away by the grip of Jesse’s hand on my neck. He gave me a burning flash of copper eyes right before he kissed me, the press of his mouth rougher than Roark’s, more intense in its message. His tongue lashed and whipped, scolding me for scaring him, warning me not to do it again.
He pushed my back against the mattress as he forced himself deeper inside my mouth, his groin grinding against my thigh, ensuring I felt the hard length of him as he sucked and ate at my mouth.
I wrestled with the sudden swell of arousal, the desperation inside me throbbing to be stroked and filled. But my body was weak, and their cocks wouldn’t magically mend me.
Jesse knew this, too, but he was reluctant to pull away, his groan vibrating through me as he tore his mouth from mine. He leaned back, breathing heavily, his eyes on Roark. They exchanged a look, a shared mélange of misery and relief, and turned their gazes back to me.
They weren’t lookin
g at me for answers. They were waiting for me to catch up.
I pulled in a breath, drawing all of my thoughts together. “I can’t go back to Arkendale, can I?”
Jesse stared at me silently, and Roark grabbed the glass of water from the nightstand and set it in my hands.
I sipped and handed it back as I said, “That’s not where we were headed anyway.”
Roark leaned forward, his knee bent against the mattress. “Hunter followed us this morning and returned to Arkendale after we settled.”
My drowsiness was fading by the second, my body alight with excited energy. “So Link would know how to find us.”
“He’ll send more men in a few days to help us track down the Drone.”
I wasn’t sure we’d need to do much tracking. “I saw the Drone in a dream.”
Was the Drone waiting for me in my motherfucking house? Desecrating my memories?
“What? How?” Jesse shot up, his eyes hard. “We didn’t leave you alone for one second. One of us was always touching you.”
Shea chose that moment to run into the room and launch herself at me in an emotional and fervent crush of toned limbs and black curls. Seemingly oblivious of the men in the bed, she wrapped her arms around my neck and peppered kisses across my face. “You scared the shit out of me.”
I returned her embrace, grinning. “I missed you, too.”
“Shea.” The air buzzed with the impatient tone of Jesse’s voice.
“Okay, okay. I’ll come back.” She slid off the bed, flashed me a huge smile, and darted out of the room.
When the door shut, Jesse and Roark turned their attentions to me. They were a stunning scenery of copper and jade eyes, each of them so uniquely different yet living in symbiosis, like now as they watched me with the mutual intensity, waiting for me to tell them about the Drone.
I put my hands on their thighs. “Maybe he didn’t find me in my dreams. But I found him. In my home in Missouri.”
Roark folded his hand around mine, his voice cautious. “And Michio?”