Marti left the way she came in -- silently.
Den lifted an eyebrow and eyed his mother askance. “Why are you the only one who gets the civil treatment?”
The Priestess’ face softened as she graced him with her signature benevolent smile. Her words belied the gentleness of her expression. “Perhaps I escaped her ire because I am the only one who has not hurt her.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
Thalassic sank onto her chair. Her gray eyes looked bruised. She looked old… old, tired and weary of life. “I never meant to hurt her. I love her, but no matter what I do, or how hard I try, I never seem able to not hurt her.”
Denzel squared his shoulders. “General, I love your daughter. I intend to marry her in the oldest tradition known to humankind. I intend to raise my child, no matter what its sex turns out to be, so get used to me. I am going to be in your life, part of your family, until the stars fall or the Scarth annihilate all us men. Since I don’t see you allowing that, we should have a long, fruitful association.”
His mother squeezed his hand as he passed her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Den planted a playful kiss on his mom’s check. “I’m going after my woman -- by way of the baby store. My first mistake was taking her for granted. Well…” he rephrased his last statement, “my first, first mistake was not being totally honest and up front with the only woman to rock my world in the last six years. I knew I was sunk the second she grabbed my dick and held on like a limpet.”
Chapter Six
“Where are you going?”
Marti didn’t look up from packing. Moving over to the open suitcases on her bed, she dumped another load of underwear into the almost empty tote.
“I’m going to the villa for a while. The Scarth still won’t be in communications range for almost two weeks, you said. I’ll report back before that time.”
Thalassic sighed and eased down to sit on the edge of the bed. “Why not go home? Your father would love to see you.”
Marti stiffened. “I don’t want to see him.”
“He misses you.”
Placing her hands on her hips, she stood facing the mirror. Their eyes met in the glass and she held the gray gaze until the older woman lowered her head.
“What would it hurt to give him a moment of joy? He loves you and will love hearing about your child.”
She couldn’t believe her mother wouldn’t let the subject drop. With a huff of disgust, she swung about. “Will you leave it alone? I don’t want to see my father. I can’t stand the lapdog you’ve made of him. He’s not a man, he’s a pet.”
“He’s the consort of an Amazon.”
Her mother’s calm voice grated on her nerves. Mouth tight, right hand clenched, she spoke slowly and deliberately. “He’s an obedient fuck-toy too spineless to refuse you when you ordered him to be neutered so you wouldn’t have to bother having more children. I just want to know one thing, General…” She stared at the composed woman who hadn’t moved since she began her tirade. “Why couldn’t you just use the IUD? Didn’t it work for you?” She snapped her fingers. “Well, hell, I guess not. After all, you had three children.”
“I had five children. And I wanted each and every one of you.”
Her statement shocked Marti into silence for a moment. “Five?”
“One before and after you.” Thalassic lifted a hand and smoothed her already smooth hair. Marti suppressed a knowing sneer. Her mother probably didn’t know how telling her little gesture was. She was nervous.
“What happened to them? Were they girls or boys?”
Thalassic sighed. “The one before you was a boy, the other a girl. She -- she had the prettiest little hands. Her hair was pitch black… the first one to be so darkly colored…”
A hot band of anger tightened about her chest and Marti felt her cheeks heat with the fierceness of her anger. “You steel-hearted bitch, how could you withhold this information from me all these years?”
Thalassic jerked. “I’ll tolerate a lot from you, Martini, but not this. It wasn’t your business then, it isn’t now. If you want information, go to your father.”
“No thanks!”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” She slammed about the small cubicle, stormed to the head, snatched up all her toiletries, and threw them into her overnight satchel. “Since it seems like we’ve run out of things to say to each other, do you mind leaving so I can get on with my packing?”
Thalassic rose and walked slowly to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob. “I didn’t come here for this, Martini.”
Marti slumped on the bed. Her head throbbed with the beginning of a killer headache. Now that she knew she had a baby on board, she wouldn’t take anything for the pain. “Why did you come, Mother? Unless we are interacting as general and colonel, we never get along.”
A half smile came and went on the elder woman’s face. “True. Others in the family say it’s because we are so much alike.”
Marti grimaced. By “others” she meant Darvic. “Others are mistaken.”
Thalassic raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I begin to think otherwise.”
Marti opened her mouth to protest.
“Never mind about that,” she said, waylaying Marti’s interruption. “I only came to tell you your father and I will stand by your side. Whatever you decide to do about this child and its father…”
“… Is my concern.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I -- we -- just wanted you to know you have our support.”
Mother didn’t come to tell me what to do? She isn’t insisting I abort the baby or give it up for adoption?
Marti wasn’t sure how to respond. For some unknown reason, her breath stalled. She gasped, breathed open-mouthed to restore oxygen to her starved cells. What did Thalassic expect? What did she want from her? Finally, she settled for neutrality. “I can handle it, but thank you.”
Just as she recognized the expression on her mother’s face, it fled, leaving the usual mask of calmness behind. The general shrugged. “I’ve done too well at my job these last few years. People forget I’m more than a general. If the world were different, I would be content just being your and Tequila’s mother. Take care of yourself. The medics say your pregnancy is sitting lightly. Undue stress could cause you to lose the baby.”
The door shut softly behind her.
Eyes tearing, Marti stared at the door a long time, wondering over her mother’s last statements. Oh, not the part about losing the baby… that she understood in bone-chilling entirety. Her hands crept over her belly, cradling her precious cargo. She felt nothing, yet she knew the small spark of life she and Denzel had ignited -- nestled under her flesh -- struggled to survive. Clenching her hands, Marti determined she would do all in her power to ensure her child would make it.
Her left hand cramped and burned, reminding her she’d better pamper it a while longer. Thank goodness, the bone support supplied while in the hospital was taking rapid effect. The break would heal totally in another day or so. Meanwhile, she could use it judiciously, avoiding heavy lifting or extreme torque.
She tightened her lips and frowned, thinking she’d certainly have to refrain from hitting her baby’s daddy again. With his reinforced skeleton, he’d never feel the impact.
How unfair.
Her lips turned up in a calculating grin. She was nothing if not an innovative thinker. If she couldn’t hurt him physically, she’d just have to come up with a more… cerebral way to inflict payback on a certain lying M.A.N…
Chapter Seven
Halfway through packing, Marti grew lightheaded. Drained from the day’s traumatic events, she dropped to the bed and curled over onto her side. Thinking she’d just rest a moment, she tucked her hands under her cheek and fell asleep.
Her bladder woke her. An urgent trip to the facility took care of that problem. She finished packing and set her bags by the door in preparation for a quick getaway
. Tossing on a jacket to combat the afternoon’s chill, she headed over to the mess hall.
She’d missed dinner. Luckily, she was a favorite with the workers in the kitchen. Two of the catering crew put together a traveling meal for her and even carried it out to the flitter. Marti was surprised to find the little flyer parked outside her unit. Apparently the general had arranged clearance for its use, disregarding the fact she wouldn’t be using the one-person craft for official reasons.
* * *
The flight didn’t take long. The sun rode the crest of the horizon, a fiery half circle of plum and fuchsia, washing the rolling hills in rich color. The sky wore a robe of midnight blue lit with a fringe of cerulean and violet. Pinpricks of light stabbed the dual-toned bowl of space -- twinkling and shimmering diamonds beckoning a wondering gaze.
Marti unfolded her long length from the snug transport and stretched her arms above her head, working the kinks from her stiff muscles. Leaning in, she dragged her bags out of the luggage compartment and slung the bigger one over her shoulder. After setting the flitter’s alarm and initiating the lockdown sequence, she took the smaller bag in her left hand and made her way up the graveled path to the house.
The villa vibrated with stillness. No night animals chirped or sang. She stood on the porch, loath to go in, wary of the memories awaiting her inside. Marti didn’t fear encountering the ghostly echoes of Daiquiri’s memory. Denzel’s caring; his laughter-filled lovemaking had effectively laid those to rest for her. No, she dreaded coming heart to heart with her memories of the time spent here with Denzel.
As she walked through the deserted house, ordering on lights and adjusting the temperature, the overwhelming silence -- depressing and spirit lowering -- pressed in on her.
Coming to a halt in the door of the mistress’ suite, she leaned against the frame and sighed. If she closed her eyes, she could see herself sprawled across the wide mattress, naked except for that one damned boot. She could almost feel Denzel’s long, thick fingers rooting inside her as he found and tugged on the string to her IUD. What had he said? Oh, yes… “Now that we’ve trashed that killer, I can love you like I want to…”
She remembered wishing he had been a real man, so he could love her as he claimed. Must be careful what we wish for, hhmm?
Letting the bags drop from her hands, Marti made her way to the bathroom. A shower then bed, she decided. She didn’t feel like eating. Her appetite had fled the minute she walked into the house. Why have I come here?
The freedom of being in her own home meant she didn’t have to wear anything to bed. Marti slid under the covers with a tired sigh, glad to have nothing to do and nothing urgent pressing for tomorrow. Plumping her pillow, she settled against the soft dense drift of down and fell into dreams almost immediately.
Chapter Eight
“Oww, damned box is awkward as hell!” Struggling with the last bulky package, Denzel backed out of the rented transport, hands full with the presents he’d bought for Marti and the baby.
He hadn’t wanted to leave Marti, but the dark bruises smudging her eyes, the drawn, tense lines of her body, screamed a warning. Circumstances had driven her to the edge and much as he wished otherwise, the best thing he could do for her was give her time.
Denzel had made it his business to find out all he could about Colonel Martini Harmon. During their five days together -- five fantasy days cut out of their separate realities -- he’d learned what she liked in bed. Since then, he’d tried to discover what she lacked in her stark reality, what she needed to make her life bearable. He wanted to fulfill her, complete her as she did him.
Den hefted the bags in his arms and gave a nudging kick to the larger ones at his feet, pushing them along in front of him as he made his way to the front door of the villa.
It looked deserted, all the lights off, the moon’s solitary glow reflected in the dead space of the windows. He knew she was in there, though. He’d gone to her officers’ quarters, that cubbyhole she called an apartment, only to find her gone. It appeared she wasn’t going to let him take the easy path to reconciliation.
He snorted, smothered the chuckle. Even he knew sound carried farther at night. Giving his ground-bound parcels another hefty shove, eager to get to the woman waiting -- though she didn’t know it… or perhaps deep down she did -- for him to arrive.
Full dark had fallen. Overhead, the stars twinkled, distant diamonds scattered on the sky’s midnight blue velvet dress. Denzel looked up, heaved a sigh in honor of the majestic panoply of beauty, and then resumed maneuvering his gifts up the walkway.
Once he reached the porch, he stood patiently, waiting for the house to acknowledge him. The last time he’d carried Marti into the hall, she’d introduced him to the home computer. He was betting she’d never erased the setting.
With a well-greased snick, the front door swung open, and the dulcet tones of the central brain intoned, Welcome, Denzel.
“Where is Marti?”
The daughter of the house is in the mistress’ suite.
“Is she awake?”
Vitals signs are low. The pattern suggests she sleeps. Do you wish me to alert the mistress?
“No, allow her to sleep. Keep lights low, but illuminate the halls enough for me to navigate safely.”
Compliance.
It took him two trips to empty the transport and get all the presents stowed in a spare room. On the last trip, he activated the homing device on the vehicle, sending it back to the rental company. He wouldn’t make it easy for Marti to send him away. The lack of ready transportation might buy him the minutes needed to reach her heart.
Back at the house, Denzel made his way to the mistress’ suite. He almost tripped over the bags strewn on the floor just inside the door. He paused, staring in consternation at the evidence of Marti’s exhaustion. Meticulous and compulsively neat, the position of her bags spoke eloquently of how tired and unfocused she had to have been.
Soft white moonlight poured through the open window. Protected by a sonic screen, the window allowed light and air through, repelling insects and small rodents. He remembered her private place from his last visit. Austere lines and wide expanses of empty space highlighted the only furniture in the room -- the large queen-sized bed.
Denzel moved into the room, his attention riveted to the small lump curled on top of the silk duvet. She never stirred, continuing to sleep while he stared down at her. That, in itself, was unusual.
Marti was a soldier, trained and blooded during war. Functioning at her peak, she never would have slept through someone entering her room. He didn’t think three months of pregnancy and tiredness would dull her edge that much. Either she was too exhausted to recognize a danger, or subconsciously, she’d recognized and accepted his presence. Den hoped for the latter.
Quietly, moving on the balls of his feet, he backed away until he stood once more in the doorway. He needed a shower before he came to her since he intended to sleep beside her tonight and every night in their foreseeable future.
Retreating to one of the guest suites, he stripped and padded naked into the adjoining bathroom. Stepping into the shower stall, he dialed the spray to maximum and allowed the hot cascade to pound his sweaty skin.
The liquid soap in the dispenser smelled of field herbs and a unisex musk that reminded him of Marti. As soon as he thought of her, his penis twitched and hardened. Once upon a time, that would have surprised him, but not any more. Ever since their first meeting, he’d risen only for her, at the mere thought of her, without benefit of the penile pump he’d had installed at astronomical cost.
Gasping, Denzel widened his legs and locked his knees. Dipping his head, he glanced down to see his cock rising between his thighs, thick and solid. He had to take the pressure off. Martini was too tired to handle his lust tonight. If he came to her like this, he’d never be able to lie beside her all night without fucking her.
Gritting his teeth, he held his palm under the soap dispenser and thumbed the activ
ator. Hand filled, he circled his cock. His fingers barely closed about the thick pole, and he recalled Marti had to use both hands to hold him.
The memory dried out his mouth. He licked his lips as he slid his palm up and down, slicking the soap down the thick length and lathering it into the dense mat of coarse curls at his groin. Abandoning his cock for a moment, he brought his soapy hand up to tweak his nipples. When he finished, they stood stiff and blunt, dark buttons darker than his hairless chest. She hadn’t liked the tight curls on his pecs so he’d undergone electrolysis and permanently removed them. He couldn’t wait to have her palms running over his chest. He wanted to see those pale, creamy hands coast over his black skin, slip down his chest to his groin. He wanted to see her take his cock into her mouth. Matrix, the vision of those blue, blue eyes locked on his as her lips opened on him…
He rested his head against the shower wall and visualized Martini, naked and writhing under his driving thrusts. Pre-come dribbled from the flushed head, its dark tip lighter than the blacker flesh of his shaft. His hands slipped and slid on his cock, tugging at the broad plum-colored head on each down stroke and he hissed, using his other hand to heft his balls. He rolled the sacs in counterpoint to his stroking of his shaft.
“Oh hell, too much, too soon!” Den groaned, buttocks clenching as his hips jerked forward, driving his erection into the slippery tunnel of his fist. Heat flashed up his spine, bowing it as his balls tried to crawl up his throat. With a muffled shout, he came hard, spewing the shower wall with jets of sperm.
Chapter Nine
“Oh Matrix unwinding, she’s so beautiful to me.” The whispered words left his lips before he could stop them and he stilled, waiting to see if she would awake.
Standing over the mother of his child, Denzel balled his hands at his side, resisting the urge to snatch her up, wrap her in cotton wrap and stash her away somewhere she’d never be in danger.
She looks so small and fragile lying there, almost painfully helpless, but I’ve learned better… One wrong move and she’d rip me a new hole without thinking twice about it.
Women of Steel 2: Martini on the Rocks Page 4