“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It is what it is. Go ahead and finish your story.”
“There’s not much left,” Day said. “My brothers and I weren’t exactly close, growing up. We might have been the only non-gods running around in the Upper Realm, but Gregori was already a teenager when I was born, and Alexei just wanted to wrestle and break things.” He smiled fondly at the memory of a nine- or ten-year-old Alexei grumbling at being saddled with a toddler brother and instructed to bring him back in one piece.
“We sometimes swam together in the great river in the sky, and explored the buildings and the land, but mostly we were taught by the other gods—how to fight and how to heal, how to speak and write in many languages, that sort of thing. Finally, when I turned eighteen, our father called the three of us to him and informed us that we had been created to play an important role in the mortal realm: to act, both separately and jointly, as the Riders, companions and helpers for the Baba Yagas. We’d heard of the Baba Yagas, of course, during the time spent with our mothers. Everyone knew the most powerful witches in the world, although there were fewer of them back then, and they only watched over Russia and the nearby lands.”
Jenna gazed at him with those icy blue eyes opened wide. “How did it feel to be told you’d been born to do a particular job, with no say in the matter? Weren’t you angry?”
He chuckled. “It was a very different time, Jenna. A blacksmith’s son grew up to be a blacksmith. A baker’s son learned his father’s trade. Women married the men their parents picked out for them. Very few people chose what they were going to do with their lives; we’d simply been waiting to find out what our own father had planned for us. And in truth, it was a wonderful and satisfying job most of the time. We had plenty of freedom to explore our own interests, and then when a Baba Yaga called, we went.”
“It sounds like a good life,” Jenna said. “But I still can’t believe you didn’t mind being created for a purpose, instead of just to be yourself.”
Day scrubbed one hand across his eyes, the weight of loss pressing down on his shoulders. “To be honest, I mind not having a purpose more.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Then Jenna said, “The son of a god, huh? That explains a lot.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Jenna smirked at him, a mischievous look in her sparkling blue eyes. “You know, the whole superstrong, ridiculously gorgeous thing. But obviously you’ve been told that a lot over the years. I don’t expect it means much anymore.”
A voice far in the back of his head said something faint about bad ideas, but he hit it with a large mental stick until it sputtered and shut up.
“It depends on who says it,” he answered, and bent his head down and kissed her.
CHAPTER 13
THE touch of his lips on hers was like an electric shock, rippling down through her body and making her tingle from head to toe—and all the important bits in between. For a moment Jenna hesitated, torn between prudence and longing, but then Mick deepened the kiss, moving his arm farther down her back and drawing her in, and for once in her life she threw caution to the wind and returned the pressure of his lips with enthusiasm.
A rising tide of desire threatened to swamp her like a tidal wave, washing away fear and doubt and leaving behind it the knowledge that in her topsy-turvy life, she was certain of only one thing: she wanted this man, right now, and she’d deal with the consequences later.
Mick pulled away, looking deep into her eyes, his own vivid blue orbs filled with a heat that turned them as dark as the night sky. “I want to make love to you,” he said, his voice low and thrumming through her veins as if it were a music only she could hear. “May I touch you?” When she nodded speechlessly, he turned his other hand so that the back of his fingers barely skimmed the surface of her skin, sliding it over her cheek, down her neck and breasts, until it came to rest tenderly on her belly. Then he scooped her up effortlessly and carried her over to his bedroll.
Jenna would never have imagined that anyone so strong could be so gentle. But gentle he was, easing her shirt off over her head and then covering her with tiny kisses, as light as a butterfly’s wings. Her nerve endings felt like they were on fire, each subtle touch enflaming her more than the last. She gasped out loud when he took one newly sensitive nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking as though she was a sumptuous feast, teeth nipping ever so lightly at the delicate skin on the sides of her breasts before moving down to tease the insides of her thighs.
She almost cried when he lifted himself away, only to feel her eyes widen at the sight of him stripping off his clothing to reveal the most perfect male body she’d ever seen. His chest and abs were muscular without the bulkiness of someone who worked at it, his torso slim as it tapered down to his narrow hips and the abundant display of his arousal that jutted out from between his thighs.
The son of a god indeed, she thought, right before he slid inside her slowly, filling her inch by inch until they were joined completely. His brawny arms held his upper body over her, barely touching, as if he was afraid of crushing her, just barely close enough so that she could feel the furnace of warmth pouring off his body. She longed for him to thrust hard, to ram himself into her, but she knew he was afraid of hurting the baby, and instead he slid his silken length in and out with a gentleness that only increased the roiling passion that bubbled up like champagne until she dug her fingernails into his shoulders and cried out, arching her back as she was lost in waves of pleasure the likes of which she’d never felt before. Over and over the tempest of sensation rolled through her, until at last she felt the ripples die away, and only then did Mick let go, emptying himself into her with a groan, clutching her tight as if she was his lifeline in an equally stormy sea.
Finally, he lifted himself carefully off of her and eased down to lie at her side, stroking her body idly as his eyes began to drift closed.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly as he pulled the blanket over to cover them.
“All right?” Jenna said. “I’m incredible.”
Mick chuckled softly in the darkness. “Yes. Yes, you are.”
She could feel the moment he fell asleep, his arm suddenly heavy where it lay draped across her middle. She slid her hand underneath it, cupping her belly as if to check that all was well. For a moment, she almost thought she heard a contented giggle lifting up from her womb.
Silly woman, she thought. Silly indeed, to imagine such things. But not foolish enough to imagine that this moment—this perfect moment in a time filled with so many less than perfect ones—had meant anything. Just for a heartbeat, though, she allowed herself to wish for the impossible: that the man lying next to her could somehow magically be transformed into a retroactive father for her baby.
Not that she thought he would stay, even if that were possible, but how much better it would have been to have a little piece of this sometimes cranky, sometimes charming magnificent beast of a man inside her, instead of a fragment of a selfish, self-involved so-called gentleman. As she drifted off to sleep, Jenna was visited by a vision of a tiny laughing toddler with blond curls and bright blue eyes, running toward her with open arms. If there was anyone behind her, following to make sure the little girl didn’t fall, Jenna couldn’t see him.
* * *
DAY woke with the sunrise, as he had for thousands of years. Alexei had always been able to carouse deep into the night and sleep all day if he so desired, but Day had never mastered the knack. Once the sun was up, so was he.
Red-gold light glowed in the eastern sky and gilded the clearing with touches of pink and yellow, making the form lying next to him seem momentarily like the enchanted statue of some mythical goddess. Of course, Day had a certain acquaintance with mythical goddesses, and he’d never met one quite like Jenna Quinlan.
The morning was silent, other than the musical twittering of birds and the
distant murmur of the stream where he’d caught last night’s dinner. It felt as though the world was allowing him a tiny space of time in which to catch his breath before the rest of the day came crashing in on him. He appreciated that, since he was pretty sure that what came after was going to be a lot less pleasant.
He leaned over and brushed a long black strand of hair away from Jenna’s face, as dark as the lashes that lay against her pale skin like the wings of some delicate and elusive creature. If anything, she was even more beautiful now than when he’d met her; with the morning sickness behind her, she was beginning to display that glow some pregnant women had, and the slight curve of her belly only made her more attractive to him.
Which is precisely why he was kicking himself for his actions last night.
This whole mess was complicated enough without him being foolish enough to have sex with her. Bad enough that he’d been pulled into her problems, but now there was going to be that awkward what does this mean? conversation, and she would start wanting things from him he simply didn’t have to give. He’d always managed to avoid that in the past because his role as a Rider meant that he was constantly on the move.
Riders didn’t settle down or have relationships. It simply didn’t come with the job. Or the men who had the job. Either way, it was the truth.
He’d had plenty of dalliances with women, of course, both Paranormal and Human. But that’s all they ever were, brief encounters between consenting adults, because he was always just passing through and the women knew that. Not that he was just using them for sex—far from it.
Day knew that some people thought of him as a flirt and a playboy, but the truth was, he simply loved women. He loved everything about them: the way they looked, each of them beautiful in her own way, their softness, and the sound of their laughter. He loved all their different shapes and sizes, thin and fragile, tall and tough, abundantly curved and round of cheek. He enjoyed them and they enjoyed him, and if it wasn’t something that could last and grow, it was still enough to sustain him through the long and lonely years. He had never looked for more, and he certainly wasn’t going to do so now, after everything that happened.
He had nothing to offer anyone, especially someone like Jenna, so full of life and light and passion. He didn’t even know who he was now, or what he was becoming, or what his limited future might hold. But he knew that Jenna probably wouldn’t understand that. She’d think their making love meant something in the long run, when there could be no long run. Not for them. And yet they would be stuck traveling together until Day could get her to the Otherworld and safely back again. He groaned quietly, foreseeing long, awkward hours ahead.
A long yawn interrupted his agonized self-flagellation, and Jenna gazed at him sleepily.
“Good morning,” she said.
Day cleared his throat, which was suddenly dry. “Good morning. I hope you slept well.”
“Like a baby,” she said, sitting up and grabbing her shirt to pull it unself-consciously over her head. She giggled and patted the slight swell of her midsection. “Or, like a baby incubator, more accurately.”
He braced himself. Any second now it was going to get mightily uncomfortable. He’d have to be kind, to let her down easily. He could do that, even as grumpy as he felt most of the time these days.
Jenna stood up and put on her panties (a surprisingly dainty pink lace) and her pants, then stuck her feet back into her boots. “I’m starving,” she said, giving him only a passing glance. “I’m going to go find a convenient tree, and then maybe we can hit the road? I’m keeping my fingers crossed that there’s a diner somewhere not too far down our path. Suddenly, I’ve got an incredible craving for bacon and sautéed onions with maple syrup on them.”
Day was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open as he watched her walk toward the nearest stand of trees. So much for the fuss he’d been expecting and the difficult conversation he’d been bracing himself for. Jenna was apparently fine with acting as if the whole thing had never happened and getting on with their journey without so much as a where do we go from here?
That was great. It was going to make things much easier. If only he could figure out why her not making a big deal about it made it feel like an even bigger deal than it had before.
* * *
THAT night they camped in the Prentice Cooper State Forest, somewhere in Tennessee. There was an official campground, but Mick had insisted on leaving the path and delving deeper into the woods. Better, he said, to be scolded by park rangers, than to be found by their enemies. Jenna still found it remarkable that she had enemies, so she just followed his lead.
Things seemed fine between them, on the surface. At least as much as she could tell when they’d spent about six hours on the back of the bike, with a couple of breaks for food and for Jenna to stretch her legs. Apparently Mick’s legs were just fine. Bah. Jenna’s back hurt, her butt ached, and the rest of her wasn’t all that happy either. She’d be longing for a nice comfy car, except then they’d be able to talk, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Last night had been wonderful. Amazing. Practically world-shattering. But it wasn’t as if he’d offered up a declaration of undying love afterward. Of course, neither had she. The situation—and where they were both coming from—was just too unsettled and strange. So for the moment, she was just playing it cool and leaving the next move up to him.
Although she had to admit, if only to herself, that she wouldn’t have minded a repeat, if things were just a little less complicated. Of course, if things were less complicated, she would never have met him.
She watched as he finished setting up their camp with competent efficiency and a minimum of unnecessary movement. Everything he did seemed to be imbued with grace and a sense of restrained power; he was a pleasure to watch, like a leopard pacing out the confines of his territory with confident strides.
“That’s as good as we’re going to get for tonight, I’m afraid,” he said, dropping down to sit about a foot away from her. “We don’t dare risk more than a tiny fire tonight, since we’re camping outside the regulated zone, but it should be warm enough for sleeping as long as it doesn’t rain.”
Jenna had a momentary thought about shared bedrolls and ways of generating warmth that didn’t require a fire and blushed, grateful for the darkness.
“It’s a good thing we ate dinner on the road,” she said, voice only slightly breathy. “All we have to do now is curl up and get some sleep, and we can be on the road first thing in the morning. How much farther is it to the Enchanted Rock, do you think?”
Mick shrugged, his face barely visible in the light of the small lantern he’d set up between them. “It’s a little over a thousand miles still,” he said. “We’ve been on the road for three days. I’m guessing we could do the rest in another three days if we really pushed it; four might be more comfortable.” He glanced at her, catching her in the act of rubbing her bottom with both hands to try and ease the ache. “How are you holding up?”
“The baby is okay,” she said, pulling her hands away and putting them in her lap instead. “At least as far as I can tell. I’m sore, but I’m managing.”
Mick grunted, not buying it. “We’ll do it in four,” he said. “We’ll find a place along the way to rest a bit, so we’re reasonably fresh when we get there. After all, we have no idea what we’re walking into.”
Jenna had the feeling that he would handle it just fine, no matter what they ended up facing. But if he wanted to cut her a little slack, she’d take it. Gladly.
“Okay,” she said. “You’re in charge. I’m just going to, uh, go relieve myself before bed. I’ll be right back.” She got up creakily and headed toward the cover of a clump of trees. Jenna understood the multiple reasons they were avoiding hotels, and really, she had nothing against camping, but she was never going to be a fan of peeing in the woods. Every time she did, she swor
e that in her next life, she was coming back as a man.
On her way back to the campsite, Jenna thought she heard a rustling in the woods behind her. She stopped, listening, the hair standing up on the back of her neck. Probably an animal—a raccoon or a deer, or something equally harmless, but even as she told herself that her heart rate sped up and she could feel her breathing become tight and rapid.
Something scuffed in the leaves off to her left side, and a piece of wood broke with a sharp snap off to her right. That was enough for her and she let out a shriek, leaning down to grab a thick branch that was lying at her feet. And just in time, because no sooner was the stick in her hands than three, four, five creatures swarmed out of the forest to surround her.
Panic rose in her throat like lava from a volcano, hot and bubbling. The creatures were like nothing she had ever seen before: nightmares of long fur-covered limbs, flat simian features, and slitted goatlike eyes that gleamed at her out of the darkness. It was hard to tell, since they walked slumped over and shambling, but they must have been four or five feet tall. Sharp teeth protruded from the jutting jaws, and low brows hung over the deep-set eyes. Slavering and drooling, they gazed at her without discernible emotion or intelligence, but a quick glance showed that the largest male—they were all obviously male—wore a kind of loincloth, although the others were naked. She didn’t know if that meant he was in charge, or just had better fashion sense than the rest.
She waved the branch at them, wishing it were a gun, or maybe a lightsaber, and yelled, “Get away from me!”
Unimpressed, they crept in closer, moving in a complete silence that was far more unnerving than any sound would have been. “Shit!” she breathed, and then ran forward to attack the one closest to her, before they could all come after her in unison.
She hit it with all of her might, swinging the tree branch like a baseball bat. She would have aimed at its head, but the angle was wrong for the blow to have enough force behind it. So instead, she targeted its knees, which made a satisfying cracking noise as the branch impacted against the bony protuberances.
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