Prodigal (Maelstrom Chronicles)

by Jody Wallace

  She bowed her head. “Look, I like you, despite how I thought I’d feel about the Chosen One. I don’t want you locked up like a lab rat. I can tell Claire likes you, too. You just have no idea what it means that she’s protecting you.”

  “I don’t need protection. I need to be useful,” Adam said.

  “Too bad. You’re gonna get protection, until she realizes you’re not her type.”

  He suspected Tracy’s anger wasn’t directed at him so much as it was the situation. Camp Chanute was in jeopardy. The whole planet was in jeopardy.

  “So what’s her type?” He reached the table Tracy was using and handed her something she’d dropped on the floor. In his short time since awakening in that pod, he’d become good at getting people to talk, and even better at listening when they did.

  “Hell, before this, I would have said nobody.” Tracy finally sighed and faced him. “If she does anything stupid because of you, God help me, I will violate my oath to do no harm so fast that an angeli won’t be able to stop me.”

  Adam nodded as if taking her threat under advisement. “Which one of us are you going to beat up?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Both of you fools.”

  “If an angeli were nowhere near you at the time you wished to do harm, that is not exactly a germane threat,” Ship said suddenly.

  Tracy sputtered. “Claire turned you off!”

  The terminal winked, almost like an eye. “I turned myself back on. Your conversation was of great import to me, and you didn’t request privacy mode.”

  Claire stuck her head through the door and yelled at them. “Adam, you’d better not be in there trying to swerve on my own damned sister.”

  “He struck out,” Tracy yelled back. “I like being the pretty one, and he’s too pretty.”

  “I know, right?” Claire laughed, as if Tracy and she had never fought. “But seriously, Adam, let’s go. We have to meet with Newcome about the shades in the pod and tell her you went into a berserker rage, which I still think is true. If we don’t calm her down, Sieders is gonna stick you to rot in jail before we can spit.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Kinda done with Elizabeth after tonight.” Claire thunked her blaster band and her multipurp onto her dresser, rubbing her wrists. The mayor had followed them to fucking dinner after they fucking discussed their shade encounter for two agonizing hours in her office. “I thought we were never going to convince her to wait until after the convergence to send you back to the scientists for tests.”

  It was a compromise suggested by Adam himself, but Claire could see the logic in it. She stripped off her boots and checked the clock. Not midnight. She could spare an hour for some…nocturnal teambuilding. First, though, she’d need to wrench Adam out of his emo abyss. “Adam, are you listening?”

  “I could be dangerous. We don’t have enough information about the other side, other than that it’s filled with entities. Shades, daemons, who knows what else? How did I survive it? I’m an unknown.”

  “This is different how?” Adam had been a mystery since day one. Which had only been a week and a half ago, though it felt like months. And she’d thought the thirty-eight weeks of pregnancy had been a lifetime.

  He rubbed his palm with the opposite thumb. “I’m not saying I want to lock myself up. I’m just saying we should take precautions, since I’m half entity.”

  “If you’re a mutt, big deal. The Shipborn have catalogued hundreds of sentient species. Some can interbreed.” Claire had let go of any prejudices against aliens when she’d gotten pregnant by one. “Did the scientists treat you like you had cooties? No, they did not. They weren’t scared of you.”

  She wasn’t, either. Here in a bit, she’d prove it.

  He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “I’m not the offspring of a human and a cormoran. I’m a human who’s…mixed with a monster. You don’t find that off-putting?”

  She scoffed. “I find the person you were before you disappeared more off-putting.”

  He sat back up, restless. “I want to track my sleepwalking.”

  Claire didn’t see how he could have sleepwalked without her knowing. She could only think of one night when she’d woken up and he’d been out of bed, in the restroom. “Fine. I’ll tie a bell around your neck.”

  The line of angst between his eyebrows deepened. “We should post a guard outside the door for the night.”

  “Hell no. That would mean someone nearby listening to our private time.” She knew how to shut him up—and the temptation had been dangling in front of her like a carrot since that kiss in the farmhouse.

  “What are you—?”

  She pushed him down on the bed. He started to stand, but she climbed on top of him, pressing him into the narrow mattress. “Time to earn your keep, freeloader.”

  “Is that so?” Adam’s eyes sparked in defiance before he dragged her down for a kiss.

  The insistent press of his hand on her neck began cleansing the day’s worries. She feathered her lips over his lingeringly, teasingly, before going to work on the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s see if those shades left any marks on your lily-white skin.”

  She kissed every inch of skin she revealed, examining his gorgeous chest for injuries. His hands cradled her head, reminding her of their first time together, when she’d taken his cock into her mouth and swallowed him down.

  She wanted to do that again—wanted him beneath her. This time would be different. She was…what did they call it…alpha. She’d show him her true self, make him beg.

  That was how Claire Lawson had sex. On top. In charge.

  Faint circles of abrasion spotted his torso and shoulders from the scientists’ tests yesterday, and she licked and kissed them before toying with the button on his jeans. “Is that better?”

  “Not yet.” He lifted her shirt and sports bra over her face. She got tangled in the double layers, which blocked her view. His big hands caught her around the ribs, moving her easily, reminding her how strong he was. His hot mouth latched onto her nipple.

  She gasped. Along with heat, sensation bloomed. His tongue and his teeth thrilled her. When he sat abruptly, he forced her upright into his lap. She swayed, fighting the sweatshirt, but he held her firmly. His mouth found her nipple again, and she arched with delight.

  He hadn’t shaved. The burn of stubble on her breasts and nipples was exquisite torture. Though they’d only been messing around a few minutes, she began to ache.

  She’d intended to take the lead, but he forced her onto her back and settled himself between her legs.

  His lips and stubble nuzzled her neck, teasing and scraping her. “Admit it, Claire. You’re doping me like a masssian, to make me mad with lust.”

  “That’s just my sunny nature.” Wriggling under his weight, she finally struggled out of the shirt, then the bra.

  Or tried to. He seized the stretchy undergarment at her wrists, binding them together.

  “Hey, now. Who said I wanted to be tied up?” She wrestled him, both of them laughing, but it was fruitless if she wasn’t willing to knee him in the balls. Which she wasn’t. She had other plans for his balls.

  The bra tightened around her wrists until she couldn’t twist free. He smiled as he gloated over her struggle. “Are you done fighting yet?”

  “What do you think?”

  In response, he kissed her, serious and slow. His hips pressed between her legs, his cock a hard bar of iron. Like the one he’d bent—the one no unenhanced human could bend. He’d have no trouble restraining her, really restraining her, and doing whatever he wanted to her.

  How did she feel about that? About being overpowered by a guy who was more than he should be?

  “I think you like fighting me,” he whispered. His free hand caught her breast, roughly, and kneaded it. Kissing her, his tongue plunging into her mouth, he chafed her nipple with his palm before pinching it hard enough to hurt. “But I think you like losing to me even more.”

  She
squirmed. The jolt was more pleasure than pain, especially with the heightened eroticism of the restraint. He forced her to confront sides of herself she’d never known existed.

  “I’m warning you. You won’t like it when I reciprocate,” she said, growing breathless. “Whatever you inflict on me will come back to you threefold.”

  “I love the way you threaten me,” he said with a chuckle. Watching her face, he alternately rubbed and pinched her nipples until she could feel it in her core. He then knotted her bra around the bedpost, trapping her hands.

  She jerked her arms, but not too hard, sensing it wasn’t a secure binding. If he wanted her fingers out of the way—wanted her vulnerable—she’d wait and free herself when she stopped liking what he was doing.

  Right now, she liked it. She’d let him. She’d let him do what he wanted.

  What he apparently wanted was to drive her mad.

  With his mouth and hands he kissed and caressed her face, her neck, her breasts. She hadn’t missed an inch of his chest, and he didn’t miss an inch of hers.

  But he went beyond what she’d done to him. He cupped her mound through her pants, squeezing, while his tongue flicked her nipple. She arched into his fingers, willing him to go faster—harder. His touch made her feel reckless, itching to take a different kind of chance for the first time in her life.

  She felt safe with him. Even vulnerable and tied up, she felt safe. He’d never hurt her. It made her long to open up to him fully.

  When he slipped his hand into her pants, he found her wet and ready. They kissed with increasing passion as he plied her clit, seducing her in exactly the right way. What man had ever been able to do that? Half the reason she liked to be on top was so she could touch herself—so she could come, too. But with Adam, she trusted him to pleasure her.

  He sighed into her mouth as she panted and moaned, before dropping his head to her breasts again. Soon he was lower, at her waist. He stripped off her pants, her panties, and spread her legs wide. She bit her lip and gripped the bedpost she was tied to with her own damned bra.

  He spread her apart, inspecting her like he’d never seen a pussy before. Gently, he stroked around the small, erect clitoris and explored her hot pink folds. His gaze rapt, he watched his finger slide into her vagina before withdrawing it, covered in her juices.

  “You weren’t a gynecologist in your former life, you know,” she told him, swallowing a moan.

  He slid his finger deeper, curling inside her, raising goosebumps all over her skin. “Is that the G-spot?”

  “I have no idea.” On one hand, she wanted him to lick her until she screamed. On the other, she wanted him on top of her, cock pounding into her. But this mesmerized study, probing every inch of her as if she was an experiment—she didn’t know how to feel about it.

  “You’re beautiful.” He pressed her clit with his thumb and sank two fingers into her. “And you’re so wet.”

  “That tends to happen.” She squirmed under his scrutiny. She was far from beautiful, and he was already getting laid. No reason for compliments like that.

  He worked his fingers in and out of her, rubbing her clit at the same time. “My imagination is creative, Claire. I’m coming up with all sorts of things I want to do to you.”

  Better than what he’d already done—and was doing? She couldn’t conceive of it. “Like what?”

  He bent over her, hand still working her, and closed his lips over her nipple. She caught her breath, waiting, and then he bit down.

  She thrust against his hand as the shock increased her sensitivity everywhere. “Hellfire. Don’t bite off my… Ah!”

  He licked the trapped flesh between his teeth, his fingers so deep inside her it felt almost like his cock. Her pussy tensed around him, prepared for him to fuck her, but instead he withdrew.

  She moaned out her disappointment. His slick, wet fingers fumbled briefly around her clit before pinching it tight.

  She bucked against him, not understanding how his hurting her was almost making her come. When he tugged her clit and nipple at the same time, she cried out.

  “You like it rough,” he surmised, lifting his head from her breast.

  “No, I don’t.” Or she hadn’t before Adam.

  Nobody else had dared.

  He surged up her body and caught her lips with his. She opened for him helplessly, and his fingers drove into her again. Completely governing her, he kissed her until she was limp with pleasure before slithering down to lick her with his masterful tongue.

  Claire decided enough was enough and rotated her wrists to loosen the bindings. To her surprise, she couldn’t free herself. “Untie me.”

  “No,” he said against her skin. His dominance shivered through her almost like an orgasm. “I’m not finished.”

  Adam pressed her thighs apart, almost into a split, and ate her until she was writhing. Then he reached up to her breasts with both hands and caught her nipples.

  He clamped onto them, onto her clit with his teeth, and applied that sweet agony in three places at once. He licked and bit, harder each time, until she couldn’t take any more.

  Claire catapulted into an orgasm so intense, tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. Adam pushed her all the way through and out the other side, until she subsided limply against the mattress. Her breathing harsh, she was vaguely aware of the metallic shick of his zipper, the soft sounds of his clothing hitting the floor.

  Then he was on top of her, kissing her temples where she’d cried. “I love you.”

  “Don’t say that.” She didn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t bear for him to see how much he’d forced her to change. This was not what she’d intended for tonight. She’d wanted to arrange him into the position she liked her men.

  The bottom.

  Instead, here he was on top of her, and she wouldn’t want him anywhere else.

  When she opened her mouth to tell him he was a fool, he trapped her lips in a deep kiss. Her flavor seasoned his tongue; it had seeped into his pores. She found herself growing excited again, from his body’s urgent weight, his cock pressing her thighs, and his tongue exploring her mouth.

  “Untie me,” she said again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Almost reluctantly, he tore her bra off her wrists. The fabric ripped like tissue. “Oops.”

  “I hated that bra anyway,” she lied. She craned up and kissed him, shaking out her arms. She wouldn’t say never again on the bondage, but next time she’d get some actual rope. Good-fitting bras were hard to come by these days.

  When she wrapped her arms around him, he smiled at her, and she couldn’t help it any more than she could help the massive orgasm she’d just experienced—she smiled back. But his smile faded when his thick cock prodded her wet entrance.

  Holding her gaze, he slid all the way home. “I’m going to come inside you.”

  “That’s not news.” She curved to meet him when he began a slow plunge and withdraw. He dragged himself nearly out, only to shove into her again, filling her. She ran her hands down his muscular back and latched onto his ass.

  He kissed her as slowly and thoroughly as he fucked her, as if they had all the time in the world. She tugged him into her a little harder on the downstroke. It was like the deepest, most perfect massage to have him rooted in her, thrusting, with nothing between them.

  His cock, already a decent size, swelled as he began to increase his pace. “Claire. I love you.”

  Her insides fluttered. “Stop it.”

  “No.” His breathing quickened. His cock quickened. “I love you.”

  “You don’t—”

  He cut off her words with a kiss. “I don’t want to stop. I can’t stop.” He came into her, hard and demanding, until he was shaking her whole body with every forceful thrust. “I love fucking you.”

  “God, yes.” His hips created a friction that was spiraling her to the ceiling. “You can love that.”

  “I love how you look when you come.”

 
Her cheeks flushed, and she wasn’t sure if it was passion or embarrassment. “You’re chatty tonight.”

  “I love”—he grinned when she opened her mouth to silence him—“talking to you.”

  She kissed him to shut up him. Fingers in his hair, she kissed him and moaned into his mouth when he grabbed her ass with both hands, squeezing. Her ankles locked behind him, but not enough to restrict the motion of his hips. Somehow his fingertips found her rear crevice, her clit, and it felt like he was invading every part of her when he slid himself deep.

  She came first, trembling beneath him, the orgasm slow and long, spreading through her like a typhoon.

  But the tears were the same.

  And when he spurted into her, shuddering, telling her he loved her, she believed him this time. She suspected she could love him, too, eventually, but didn’t tell him that.

  They slept, entwined, on the stupidly small bed.

  At least until she woke, and he was gone.

  …

  Adam had left the escape door cracked—the one that had been resealed. No problem for a guy with mega strength. Claire jogged down the passageway and recognized plenty of Adam-sized prints in the dust, as well as scraps of mud in the shape of boot treads.

  He’d been—or someone with his shoe size had been—using this tunnel regularly since his arrival. It explained a lot.

  In the abandoned warehouse where they’d faced off with GUN, that door was open, too. Not many people ventured to this part of camp, so she was able to follow what she thought were his boot prints through the snow to the compound wall. They ended there.

  The fucker had climbed the frequently-patrolled twenty-foot high wall and gone for a hike, sight unseen, in the middle of the night. With shades and possibly daemons roaming the countryside, not to mention the occasional escaped zoo animal, bears, coyotes, or scavenging parties from Chicago.

  Sleepwalking? What the hell was going on here?