Examining the words she’d already scrawled on the paper she was working on, she reflected on how she understood the definition of each word but couldn’t think about the meaning they took on when she put them in the order that spelled out her ordeal.
“Get what down? Your experience?”
“I don’t want to miss anything,” Devon said. “And I feel… I don’t know, Zave and I have had so many conversations about it now that I just… I want to get it down in a linear way.”
Bess laughed, which startled Devon, given what they were talking about. “I knew you were having an effect on him. I didn’t realize it was working the other way. Since when have you been so logical?”
Devon had never been accused of being logical before. Yet, it made her smile. “I guess I know if it makes sense to him, it makes more sense to me. It makes it easier for him to share with the others and, I don’t know, maybe Swift can pull out some details that I’m not seeing. So many people came and went… I didn’t see faces, so I gave nicknames to the voices I recognized. But one could easily have been another and when you’re malnourished and dehydrated, sometimes my thoughts were muddled.”
The dishwasher beeped to indicate that it had completed its cycle. “That’s understandable,” Bess said.
The women had eaten dinner late. Once the men were gone, Bess admitted a secret, that she enjoyed walking the grounds at night. It was something Zave and Thad discouraged her from doing because they were always worried she’d hurt herself in the dark or that the temperature would be too low.
While walking arm-in-arm, Bess told stories about her brother, Art, who had founded the Kindred as a lone man before he took on Brodie. It started with him and a hodge-podge of friends who weren’t particularly loyal, they just helped each other out.
After Brodie’s parents died, Art had taken on the teenager. Art straightened out for a while, but Brodie had needed a focus and Art had missed the adventure. So, they started taking on projects together. Somewhere along the way, in the Far East she believed, they’d met Swift, an American with no ties, a high IQ and an axe to grind.
Art had mentored Brodie and molded him into a capable marksman. Swift had natural talent in his own field and had honed his skills in the underground. Art gave him stability, offered light and a helping hand. The three men had come to rely on each other as family.
At various points throughout their walks, Devon had freaked herself out after hearing strange noises or experiencing unexpected strange feelings. Bess had reminded her that they were alone. Bess admitted to feeling uneasy at times, but as long as she stayed near the shore or kept the house in sight, she couldn’t be scared here. Devon had come to enjoy her strolls with the woman.
They walked while their meal slow cooked and ate together in the kitchen rather than at the large dining table that reminded them of their missing men.
Leaving her paper, Devon went to the dishwasher to begin unloading it. It seemed only fair for her to do this job while Bess dealt with the linens that she was folding to be ironed. Devon had noticed the number of chores Bess did and had considered how unfair it was that she be treated like a housekeeper. Except since the men had gone, the intensity of her cleaning and the amount of tasks she took on grew. Devon deduced keeping busy was Bess’ way of coping while the boys were far away doing something dangerous.
“That’s sensible,” Bess said. “Putting everything down on paper in black and white. It will help you process your trauma too.”
“It means there’s something permanent that can stay here, in case something happens to me.”
Bess stopped folding. “And just what do you think will happen to you?”
“I don’t know,” Devon said, putting away the plates. She’d gotten to know her way around this kitchen while prepping and cooking with Bess every night. “Anything can happen at any time. I was snatched off the street once, there’s no telling when it might happen again.”
“You don’t really think that,” Bess said, propping a fist on her hip. “Do you think that my Kindred boys would let anything happen to you? Besides, you’re here. You’re not planning on going anywhere, are you?”
Devon didn’t know what she was planning. She could stay here, but even Bess went back to the mainland sometimes. Thad spent more time there than he did here. “I can’t stay here forever.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know if that’s what Zave wants.”
“It’s exactly what he wants, and you can’t let him think that you’re uncertain about being with him or he’ll use it as an excuse to push you away.”
“I’m too worried about him to think about that,” Devon said.
When she did take the time to think about their relationship, she kept coming to the conclusion that she was running out of rabbits to pull from her hat. She’d used every magic trick she knew to tempt him into being with her wholly and completely. Nothing had worked.
“Worrying is part of the job,” Bess said.
“I can’t…” Devon trailed off when she registered a noise, and Bess perked up at the same moment. “What is that?”
Bess’ smile was brief, and she dumped everything she’d been doing to rush toward the door. “They’re back.”
The noise she recognized as it got louder was the sound of a helicopter returning. Devon stayed in the kitchen listening to it come nearer until she was sure it was going to land right on top of her. She didn’t know what to do. Bess had rushed out with purpose, but she knew the procedure, Devon didn’t.
Zave and Thad wouldn’t be alone, and Devon didn’t know if she could face a strange woman being brought here because it would mean witnessing what she’d endured on her own arrival, which was a memory she didn’t have.
Torn between a desire to be helpful and her concern that she might get in the way, she didn’t know what to do. These people had done this so many times, they had to be a well-oiled machine.
The rotors slowed and the sound died off. The silence became unbearable, and when she couldn’t stand it anymore, she followed Bess’ route out of the room but didn’t know which entrance the women were brought in. It didn’t take long for her to find out.
She was standing on the bottom stair, against the newel post in the foyer, considering whether or not she should try to locate the room she’d awoken in. That was the one place she hadn’t tried to go and knew that part of the house had been remodeled for the purposes of the women they brought here to save. Whenever she recognized the décor change while on her expeditions, she turned and walked the other way instead of confronting it.
The front door opened and Bess came in fussing over an unconscious woman in a wheelchair who was being pushed by Zave, while Thad did something with a band around the woman’s arm. They carried on across the foyer to a set of double doors on the left in the shadow of the arch under the mezzanine opposite where her bedroom was located.
Zave glanced at her once, but she said nothing, sure that she must look like a rabbit in the headlights, observing a scene that she’d once been party to. Although if what she’d heard was true, she hadn’t been wheeled in a chair, she’d been carried by the lord.
Something was said within the trio while the doors stood opened. When they closed again, Devon wasn’t sure if she was alone until Zave appeared from the shadows, striding towards her. He didn’t greet her with words, and she couldn’t find any that would fit the moment.
The fixed growl on his face made her clasp her hands beneath her chin, as she tried to figure out if he was angry at her, traumatized by what he’d seen, or if something else was at play. Zave didn’t slow down, he just crouched to sweep her off her feet. Wrapping her legs around him, their mouths clashed in a full-tongue, no-hesitation kiss.
She was gripping his shoulders and gasping for breath when he finally broke the seal of their mouths, and that was when she discovered they’d ascended the stairs and were now moving along a corridor that that she didn’t recognize.
Dazed b
y his show of passion, she tried to recall where he’d been. “Shouldn’t we help?” she asked.
So intent on her mouth and his path, Zave showed no compassion. “They’ve got it,” he replied.
“She was in a chair, and there’s stairs—”
“There’s an elevator,” he said. “You never had reason to be in it.”
Because Devon had been unconscious when she arrived here and been in his arms. Stroking his face, she ran her fingers into his hair and teased his mouth with hers. “I missed you,” she said. “I was so worried.”
“I told you not to worry, didn’t I?”
They stopped at a door at the end of the corridor, he got them through it with his fingerprint, and took her up the spiral staircase she recognized. Going through another door, they were traversing the corridor that brought them to his lab.
He was taking her into his lair. Except, instead of stopping in the lab, Zave swung a right to head for the door in darkness. Taking her up another set of curved stairs, they reached a grand room in a circular space with windows too high to see out of.
The bed to the left had a high wooden headboard, and although the frame was ornate, the sheets on the bed were plain white. There was only one pillow and only one blanket. He’d been right when he said he considered this a prison. He gave himself no luxury, the room was all but bare.
Devon only noticed these things after he settled her down, placing her head on the single pillow. She expected a game and while she wasn’t quite prepared for it, his kiss had warmed her up. Except instead of retrieving the toys from wherever he kept them, Zave went to the end of the bed to slip her shoes off her feet.
Picking one up, he pressed her instep to his cheek and kissed the tip of her toe before laying her leg back down on the bed. He was never affectionate, never let himself touch her, and he’d never brought her to his bed before.
After sitting on the edge of the mattress, he unbuckled her jeans. Devon lifted her hips to let him pull the clothes off her lower body. Thinking she was helping, she pulled the string at her clavicle to unfasten the first knot on her top, but he grabbed her hand.
“Let me,” he said, more fixated on the clothes he was removing than the skin he was exposing. When she was naked, she expected the game to begin. Instead, he stayed on the edge of the bed, perched beside her hip. “Being down there. After this…” He shook his head once and focused on her navel. “It was almost too much, shy.”
After this. After them. Now he wasn’t just there to save anonymous women. Every one of the women in that place was synonymous with her.
Sitting up, she rested a hand at his throat. “Thank you,” she murmured, leaning forward to kiss him. “For going back there, for doing it again, for saving another innocent life. Thank you for saving mine.”
Reaching for her temple, his fingers got lost in her hair. When he angled her head, she closed her eyes, expecting his kiss. But she didn’t get one. “I’ve been saving something special,” he said. “Would you like to try it out?”
“In your bed?” she asked, her mind drifted and her lips curled with delight. “I’d do anything for you in your bed, lord.”
“You’ll like this one,” he said. “I promise. Now, lay down and close those eyes and let me take care of you.”
His lips brushed hers before his body receded and she sank down, stretching her arms out and opening her legs, reveling in the luxury of this bed that was more basic than hers, but its significance was undeniable.
This was his most private space and he’d just invited her in. If he wanted her to leave, he’d have to demand it. Even then, she wasn’t sure she’d go without a fight. But for this minute, they needed a distraction. Their craving for each other would deliver them to oblivion.
Devon would let him pamper her, and she’d give him the control that helped to ground him. But tomorrow, she was going to have to let him see that he wasn’t the only one progressing in this relationship. She wanted to give him more and she’d find a way to do it.
Coming down the stairs in the nude, Devon yawned, and scratched her fingers through her chaotic locks. Sloping up the hallway, she entered his workspace, assuming she’d find him here since she’d woken up alone. Sure enough, there he was hunched over his drafting table, scribbling something at a frantic pace.
He was so busy concentrating that she considered leaving him alone to work, but she was feeling selfish so kept on going. Drawing a fingertip along the top of his desk, Devon let the digit carry on down the perimeter as she moved around it.
Stopping next to him, she touched his shoulder. Although he glanced at her, Zave kept on working for a few seconds before the pencil fell from his fingers and he turned his stool towards her to examine her exposed flesh.
Her nipples reacted, her face heated, and urgency made her core begin to pulse. “What’s this look?” he asked.
She grinned. Putting both hands on his shoulders, she climbed astride his lap. The rules were different now, it was daytime, she was in his private space, and she’d just woken up in his bed. Testing the boundaries seemed appropriate.
“I don’t have anything to wear up here,” she said. “All of my clothes are in my room downstairs.” That was only part of the reason. She could’ve raided his drawers. Although, snooping may have upset him. She could have put on her dirty clothes but would have been uncomfortable in them. “What are you working on?”
“Hmm?” was his response, which took her attention away from the page she’d glanced at. She saw that he was enraptured by the sight of her breasts.
His concentration made her hope. “Does this do something for you?” she asked, presenting her body.
His hands skimmed onto her hips and she thought just maybe she’d broken through, so she leaned in to close her mouth over his. Kissing him made her confident and wild and bold, things she’d never been anywhere else.
How many other nude women got to interrupt their boyfriends while they were working? To climb on top of them to sink their tongues into their mouths in an attempt to entice them into crossing the carnal line?
“Easy, shy,” he said, rubbing her arms as he pushed her away.
Devon was tired of moaning at him about her desire. “Why can’t I have you?” she asked, letting her mouth dance near his. “You create wonderful toys for me that get me off, but I’ve never pleasured you.”
“You pleasure me every day. This is a pleasure. One I shouldn’t be taking advantage of.” He’d resorted to stroking her shoulders and her neck, avoiding anything further south.
Frustrated, Devon wanted him to relax with her. “It’s not the same as what you give me. You pamper me. Spoil me with climax on top of climax. Each day there’s a new, incredible gadget and I love every one of them, but I want a part of you.”
“There’s a part of me in every piece I craft for you.”
“Not the part of you I want inside me,” she said, kissing him again. “I want to make you feel good, like you make me feel.” An idea made her reach for the hem of his tee shirt, but he snatched her wrist and held it up, suspicion prevailing in his gaze. “I promise not to touch your penis. I just want to try something.”
His dubious expression was as vehement as the grip of his hand. He wasn’t going to give in yet. “It will make me feel good,” she said, having learned how to push some of his buttons. “It will make me happy. There’s nothing more important to you, right?”
This was enough to make him release her hand, and he allowed her to pull his tee shirt up, over his toned arms, and off over his head. She dropped it to the floor. Drawing her index fingers from his collarbone to his navel, it pained her that he held himself stiff because she was testing the limits of their latest development.
Skimming her hands the width of his shoulders to meet at his spine, Devon let them carry on up into his hair until her elbows rested on each side of his neck. Squeezing herself close, she pressed her torso into his, crushing the cushions of her breasts into the hard planes of his
chest.
It felt so good to be touching so much of his hot form, more than she ever had before. With her lips on his, she released a single, long breath into his mouth. The sheer gratification of this progress was almost as good as any orgasm she’d ever had.
“You feel good,” she whispered and let her forearms fall against the width of his shoulders behind his neck.
She hung around him, sagging deeper against him. Laying her head on her own arm, she kissed his neck and began to rock her hips, getting closer and closer to the monolith she wished he’d let her sink onto.
Rubbing her cheek on his, Devon whispered into his ear, “You can take off your pants if you want to.”
Seizing her hips, he shunted them further down his thighs toward his knees to prevent her center from making contact with his. “I do that and there’s a chance…”
“What?” she asked when he didn’t finish the strained sentence. “A chance that you might accidently penetrate me? If it was up to me, it would be no accident.”
He groaned. “Shy, we’ve talked about this,” he said. Picking her up off his lap, he put her on her feet and then bent to snag his tee shirt from the floor. “You know the rules. Our numbers. Do you want me to make you recite them?”
But their limits were being pushed. “Are we never going to have sex?” she asked.
“I can’t.”
“You can,” she said, eyeing the unmistakable mountain jutting up from inside his sweats. “That looks to me exactly like you can… We can have Thad test me for diseases if you think—”
“Don’t be stupid,” he said, leaving his stool to push it in. “You’re in perfect health.”
“Then, what?”
Irritation made him drive a hand through his hair and then ball it into a fist. “I give you pleasure,” he spat out. “Every night, every time you ask, I’m there. Anything you want, you get. You get more of me than any other person ever has.”
“I don’t want to be selfish,” she said. “But I want to know what it feels like to have you inside of me. Not one of your toys or something you cooked up in your lab. You, me, flesh, together. Old-fashioned style. You laid me down up there, played with me, and left. You won’t even sleep with me.”
Falcon (Kindred #5) Page 20