Selfless

by Sherri L. King

  Dante motioned for her other foot and she eagerly gave it to his expert touch. He squeezed it with a small smile playing about his smooth lips. Eva wanted his hands on her breasts, desperately. He seemed to sense the change in her from curious to yearning. He slid closer to her, gently pulling her legs over his thighs, almost cradling her like a child.

  There was nothing in his gaze that made her feel like a child—quite the opposite.

  His mouth hovered over hers.

  She could taste the sweet flavor of his breath.

  “This is dangerous,” he murmured, so softly she shouldn’t have heard it. Wouldn’t have but for her near-preternatural senses.

  “Afraid?” she whispered, deliberately goading.

  His muscles rippled as his pride took the blow, refracted it. “Never.”

  She smiled secretly to herself.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked again, the words a caress across her mouth, like a phantom kiss.

  Eva felt herself frown, felt a pang like anger or frustration. Then let it go as she saw in his gaze that he didn’t just want to know her thoughts…he needed to know them. In this moment, her thoughts mattered to him on a very personal level.

  “I’m thinking you’re taking this too slowly,” she whispered.

  It was all the permission he needed. His mouth crashed onto hers like a comet upon the face of a planet. The explosion of feeling was apocalyptic to her well-ordered mind. Her heart soared, even as it lay trapped inside her. She had never felt so free, or more captivated.

  His arms were around her. A cage she welcomed.

  His lips were soft, softer than she would have imagined even after their last week spent together. She’d seen his mouth pursed, relaxed, even smiling. But this was a kiss, a new experience for her, and no amount of knowledge could have prepared her for the reality of his lips on hers. Smooth, plump, hot and moist, his lips devoured her whole.

  Mouth to mouth, breath to breath, she felt as if they were already one being. Each a part of the other, two made whole.

  His palm discovered her breast. Eva discovered the stars.

  Her back bowed of its own volition, pressing her aching nipple harder into the center of his hand. Her mouth opened on a gasp. Bringing her exhalation into himself, his tongue silkily stroked along hers, inviting her to do the same. She laved his tongue with hers, licked his lips and felt the ridges of his teeth and tasted the well of his mouth, an invasion he welcomed wholeheartedly.

  She was beneath him on the couch. His weight was solid, the muscles of his shoulders and biceps smooth and rigid under her questing fingers as he held himself aloft so as not to crush her into the abyss of the cushions.

  Eva tested his flesh with her nails and swallowed his growl.

  Then his hands were everywhere. All at once. Everywhere he touched she felt the imprint of his heat and his texture. She felt like molded clay, sculpted for his pleasure.

  She was naked, her flimsy coverings gone. There was no shame, no shyness, not on her part or his. She gloried in the feel of skin on skin. His golden glow warmed her, seeping into her paleness, lighting her sun-starved dark.

  When his mouth kissed her nipple, she moaned low and long, startling herself with the uninhibited sound. The liquid lightning of his tongue flicking her sensitive tissues inspired her to cling to him, to kiss him wherever her mouth could find flesh, to murmur lovers’ words in every language she knew between desperate gasps for air.

  His hair felt smooth and cool, but for once she didn’t revile the absence of warmth. She was burning up, fast and violent, like a supernova. For the first time in her life she perspired.

  He sucked her. Licked her. Kissed her. From breast to breast, using his hands as well as his mouth. Nuzzling her, smelling her, reveling in her.

  Eva was frantic for more. She rolled them, a wave of motion, and they fell. Dante was careful to take the brunt of their impact and then he rolled them again, so that he lay atop her once more.

  Pressure built inside her. There was no way to release it but through her mouth, her cries, her moans and fragmented pleas. But Dante took his time, his patience for once nearly enraging her. She felt her fists beat at his shoulders, felt them captured in his, felt his kisses upon her knuckles. Felt him sucking on the tips of her fingers. Biting gently with his predator teeth.

  “Please,” she panted. In nine languages.

  He wriggled out of his underwear. “Hold on to me,” he said, enveloping her in his arms.

  Their hearts beat together. Their sweat mingled. Their scents mated and formulated a new, unique perfume. She held him tight, pressing her mouth in the hollow of his throat. The burn of his hard cock in the cradle of her sex was a welcome shock.

  And then he was sliding down.

  There was a moment when she worried about her belly, about how it might repulse him, but he kissed the unmarked flesh and slid lower. She keened with delight, her worry gone.

  Then a new worry as he opened her legs with firm insistence. As he dipped his head between them and…oh!

  She cried out brokenly.

  His tongue laved her, stroked her, burned her. Her cunt was wet already with the intensity of her desire, but now she practically wept with need. He tasted her, as he might sample an exquisite liqueur. Pressed his mouth to her sex as he had her lips. Sucked her clit as he had her nipple.

  When his fingers penetrated her as his tongue lapped her cream, she orgasmed violently. Her thighs would have clamped around his head had he not the foresight to wedge his shoulders between them. Feeling her pussy muscles working, pulses that milked his fingers like a suckling mouth, Eva shrieked and rode the violent wave until it crested and crashed, leaving her beached and limp, but strangely innervated.

  And then his blunt instrument, pressing into her, bringing her senses sharply back to focus solely on their union. She found his mouth with hers, tasted herself, tasted his mounting passion. Her fingers were in his hair, on his shoulders and back. As he penetrated her, filling her up and stretching her, she transferred the burn of her need into the clutching of her nails in his firm flesh.

  The pain of her nails tore through him and he bowed his back, sending his cock to her depths. Sealing him in her wet heat.

  They cried out together, ecstasy and pain combined, a maelstrom of sensations neither questioned nor fought.

  “You feel…perfect.” The words were strained, an effort for him to achieve.

  Eva was beyond the ability to speak. Kisses were the only language she knew and she used them to communicate her awe.

  His hips undulated, his body moving over hers, his shadow a looming darkness that swallowed her whole…

  Dante was lost. His feelings were an overwhelming force of nature, centered solely on the woman beneath him. His dreams had been aged watercolors compared to the vibrant oils on the canvas of reality. Her flavor was as wild as her origins. Her passion as honest as her words and just as raw, just as disarming.

  If Eva felt a fraction of what he felt now, she would be his forever, body and soul.

  How had this happened? How had his defenses crumbled so thoroughly? This wasn’t sex—it was far too ethereal, too perfect for the physical world. This wasn’t a way for him to purge her from his dreams—this would cement her in them. Forever. Beyond that.

  Eva had destroyed him. But in doing so, she had remade him.

  Gone was his intention to dominate her. Gone was the need to quantify her. She was beyond his mortal understanding. All that mattered, all that he cared for, was her happiness.

  She moved like honey beneath him. Sweet and slow in her grace.

  Wounding him with her deadly sweet kisses, her unselfish hands pulled him toward a dangerous edge, the precipice of glory.

  As he felt his sac tighten he pounded harder into her. Feeling himself slip almost free of her innocent trap before plunging back down into her folds. She was wet and slick, tight—so tight—and small. But she welcomed him like an old lover, withholding nothin
g.

  Nothing…

  OhgodIloveitIlovehimdon’tlethimstop!

  Dante gasped, his eyes flaring to look into hers. But her eyes were clamped shut tightly. Her mind, however, was wide open.

  His orgasm crashed into him. With his ears he heard himself crying out, growling and snarling like a wolf. With his mind he heard her thoughts…

  Gritting his teeth he found her clit with his thumb, rubbing it, needing her to find another release. Needing to feel the honesty of her body’s response to him, needing it like a comfort or a balm.

  Now that her mind was open, he wanted it shut.

  When her orgasm hit, it struck him too, and for the first time since his teens he came a second time within moments of the first, the hot splash of his seed striking the heart of her. The echo of her thoughts following him into the dim cloud of absolute release…

  The perfect heat. Let it last. Let it last past tonight, this warmth. Oh Dante, I’m sorry.

  “Me too,” he whispered, kissing the shell of her ear gently. Then silently, Oh baby, I’m sorry too…but I can’t let you go.

  Chapter Five

  His breathing proclaimed his slumber but Eva was cautious, knowing how keen his senses were.

  Dante lay behind her, chest rising and falling with each breath. He held her, arms wrapped around her like gentle ribbons of muscle and sinew. She gently, slowly repositioned them, opening a path of escape.

  It was early morning but still dark outside. It was past time to flee. She should already be out of the compound by now.

  But she’d lingered. She’d needed to. This was the first time she’d ever felt close to complete contentment. But her thoughts raced out of control, and she damned them for rushing her perfect moments with Dante.

  Stolen moments. Get going.

  Fine then. Eva crawled away from her lover, the cold absence of him already seeping into her marrow. A strange pain crippled her heart, made her eyes water even though it was almost full dark in the room, the candles long burned too low to offer any illumination.

  Don’t look back. Just go.

  But she couldn’t go naked. And though she didn’t want to put on the horrible uniform of her time here, she had no choice. The cloth was cool, adding to her chill.

  Dante stirred and she froze. His breathing didn’t change, and Eva felt an almost overwhelming desire to lie back down and sleep next to him. To dream next to him, close enough that their minds might touch so that they could dream together.

  Isn’t that why I’m leaving now? To keep him out of my head?

  She winced at her own savage reminder of what he meant to do in the coming hours and days. To force open her mind, to rifle through it like a filing cabinet.

  The revulsion she felt at the prospect spurred her into motion. She left the haven of Dante’s apartment and squinted against the frigid white glare of the light beyond. She ran through Sterling’s labyrinth, blindly finding her way despite the even flow of her tears.

  Tears that had nothing to do with the lights and everything to do with the dark emptiness welling in her heart.

  When she opened the door that led outside, the last barrier to her freedom, the shock was enough to send her stumbling. The air here was fresh and natural, scented with all the impurities of the wide, open world. For a terrifying moment Eva felt how small she was, how vast the planet around her. The beauty and the savagery of her freedom were almost too harsh to bear.

  A breeze, scented with the tang of Erie and the sting of burning fossil fuel, caressed her face, drying her tears to a stiff, salty stain on her pale skin. The moon was absent in the sky, the stars dimmed with the approach of dawn, but Eva felt them there, a constancy in the uncertain realm of her existence.

  With the door to Sterling shut behind her and the world laid out before her, she balanced for a moment on the knife-edge between her past and her future. Then with one step, she met the latter head-on.

  No matter what dangers or disappointments the future held, she could hold on to the memory of her moments in Dante’s arms. For those perfect hours the world had been small, only the two of them alive in it and Eva had felt safe.

  Barefoot on the pavement she walked forward…and kept walking until she found a proper vehicle to steal. Safety be damned, she had questions—and only one person in the world could give her answers.

  * * * * *

  She actually managed to hotwire the old jeep. Dante was astonished. Not because she knew how—the woman seemed to know everything—but knowing and doing were two different things. It took a certain skill, a practiced skill, to hotwire any vehicle. It had taken Eva a few moments.

  He’d been amused at first, watching her, knowing what she wanted to do, knowing it would be close to impossible without his help.

  When the engine roared to life and she deftly put the vehicle into gear, he’d felt his jaw drop in stunned amazement. As she eased off the clutch and pressed gently on the gas, Dante jerked himself out of his shock and found himself running.

  Nothing ever went according to plan with Eva. He’d imagined sneaking up on her in the dark and fighting to subdue her, to explain that he wouldn’t rape her mind—her choice of words sickened and shamed him, but were apt, he had to admit—that he would keep her safe and warm forever. He’d imagined her relief and her willingness to be with him and the days spent after in erotic bliss.

  But noooo. Now Dante had to run, sprint full out, to catch up to Eva—she who had never driven any car before—as she worked the manual transmission of the jeep she had stolen like a pro. If he weren’t so thrilled with her achievement, strangely proud to see her in action finally, he would have been a little pissed off.

  His hand caught the tailgate of the jeep, slipped, caught it again. He gripped it, feet sliding on the pavement as she picked up speed, and heaved himself into the car.

  From the time spent knowing her, learning her, Dante was well aware of the keenness of her senses. Still, her shriek of surprise and sudden stalling of the car jolted him.

  “Dante!”

  His name sounded so fucking sweet on her lips. Damn, he was already hard. Again. He was always hard when she was near.

  “Get out,” she snarled, sparking the wires to ignite the engine once again—the neat trick took her only a second this time. She threw it into first gear, tires smoking, and drove with deliberately rough sways that threw him from side to side. He righted himself, gripping the headrest of the front passenger’s seat and growled at her.

  “Stop the car, Eva.”

  “Get out!” She screamed it now, her metallic voice in stereo as he simultaneously heard the shout loud and clear in her thoughts.

  “Eva. What are you doing?” It took all his strength not to yell at her. She was still driving like a maniac, climbing toward fourth gear. He tried for patience and a reasonable tone. “I’m sorry I was so insensitive. I won’t force you to let me read your mind. It was wrong to think I could. I’m sorry. You don’t have to run away.”

  The speedometer kept climbing. She didn’t even glance his way as he settled into the seat beside her. They were free of the vast parking lot flanking the Sterling compound now. Headed for the freeway.

  How did she remember the way? She hadn’t seen—there’d been no windows in the back of the van that had transported her. Then he remembered one scientist’s theory that Eva’s immense memory relied not just on sight, but sound and scent and other senses most people took for granted, all rolled into one efficient data-collecting process unequaled in the human scope. No doubt Eva had felt every bump and turn in the road and remembered the route as effortlessly as someone might remember the lyrics to a favorite song.

  She never failed to awe him.

  “You don’t have to run,” he repeated. “Eva, I’ve got you. The tests are done—I’ll see to it. We’ll start again, build a life. You and me.” He hoped the offer was tempting enough. She certainly was, golden hair bedraggled, skin pale in the approach of dawn, her gown rumpled, her b
reasts bobbing beneath the thin cotton with each bounce of the vehicle.

  She still wasn’t saying anything.

  “Don’t you want that?” He remembered her impassioned response to his touch, her thoughts betraying her wonder and excitement at the height of their union. Had she forgotten so quickly how perfect they were together?

  But Eva never forgot anything. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—forget that…could she?

  “Eva?” His uncertainty beat at him with each second of silence from her kiss-bruised mouth. He was never uncertain, or had never been before meeting her, and found he hated the feeling. “Eva, say something.” His words were much harder than he’d intended.

  He probed her mind but found it closed…well, not exactly closed. Just…black. Abysmal.

  “I have to know what I am before I can go forward.” Her voice startled him when she finally spoke. It was dead—empty. Her words surprised him even more, though he knew he shouldn’t have been surprised at all.

  “Then we’ll figure it out.” He felt a seething pain emanating from her in waves and strove to calm the raging waters. “Eva, it doesn’t matter what you are anymore. You’re you and that’s what matters. We’ll learn the rest together eventually.”

  “No. You can’t do that. You or Sterling. You’ve been trying for years to find Faria and the closest you’ve come is me. I can go further, Dante. I know where the bitch has been hiding.” Triumph tore her voice to ragged edges.

  “How?” The word conveyed clearly how stunned he was by her revelation.

  She smiled mirthlessly. “I smelled something—a familiar scent, familial even. I smelled it the night you rescued me, only it didn’t register right away.” At last she glanced his way, and her eyes were black as the Stygian dark of a moonless night.

  “She wasn’t there at the time,” Eva continued. “But she’d been there recently. She’ll have been back. Maybe still there.”

  “No. Even if that was her base of operations, after you were taken she would have abandoned it.”

  Eva eyed him. “What about the others?”

  He blinked, stumped by the unexpected question.