She pushed back into his hips, and he withdrew his finger. He gripped her hips with his spread hands, held her still and thrust into her from behind, rocking her forward. She gasped, and he covered her with his body, his lips close to her ear.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Please, don’t stop.”
Gripping her hips more firmly, he thrust again, as deeply as her body could take him. She felt almost at his mercy, and the thought only increased her erotic excitement. He always seemed to know how to be forceful without causing her the least discomfort, and her body wept for more.
When his fingers found the place of their joining and slid up to stroke her clitoris, she knew the waiting was over. She came wildly, gloriously, closing around him and releasing in rapid, ecstatic spasms. He followed a second later, his breath coming in broken grunts as it warmed the back of her neck.
He held her a moment longer and then pulled her back into his lap, licking her neck several times before biting her. She came again, shuddering against him.
When he was finished, he lowered himself to his side, her body still cradled within the curve of his. She rolled over to face him, to see the sated gratification in his eyes and the flush of his skin. She ran her fingers through his mussed hair. He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose.
“I wish we could stay like this forever,” she whispered. “Or at least long enough to do it a few more times.”
“So do I,” Timon said. He stroked her cheek. “But we have a decision to make.”
“Do we?” She closed her eyes, willing the world to go away. It didn’t cooperate. “I know what you want to do,” she said. “Take me somewhere ‘safe.’ But that place doesn’t exist.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “If I could,” he said, “I’d lock you away in one of your labs, where the only danger you’d face would be pricking yourself with a needle.”
“And what if that needle were attached to a syringe with the virus in it?” She turned her face into his shoulder. “You know I can’t let this go.”
“I know.”
“We still need so many answers. Does Erebus really want to destroy the Conclave? Even if that was their intention, they’d have to have the cure or risk destroying every Opir who takes human blood. They’d have to have a way to distribute it after the Conclave falls.”
“And assuming they have the cure,” Timon said, “how far would they go to attain their goals?”
Jamie rested her lips against his collarbone. “Whatever our theories, we know from the blood work that some members of our delegation were infected. But we don’t how. I don’t see how the Erebusians could have done it before we left the Enclave.”
“Unless they already had an ally within the Enclave.”
“Greg? But you said you weren’t sure about him anymore.”
Timon was very still for a very long, uneasy minute. “Your godfather did meet with the Erebusians in private.” he said.
Jamie rose up on her elbow. “Amos couldn’t have had something to do with this. Why in God’s name would he cooperate with the Erebusians to end any hope of peace?”
“We won’t be able to get the answers out here.”
“So we have to go back.”
“They’ll take us into custody the moment we return. If the Erebusians are in on this and they find out you suspect them, they may not wait for Cassius to accuse you.”
“Then we’ll need your Rider friends, the ones who will be loyal to you, not Cassius. Can you contact them without giving yourself away?”
“If I know you’re as safe as you can be. But Cassius—” He broke off, his jaw tightening. “It may seem crazy, but the idea has been haunting me ever since Cassius began acting so strangely. What if he’s working with the Erebusians?”
Jamie was truly astonished at Timon’s suggestion. “Why would he want to see the Conclave destroyed?”
Timon dragged his palm over his face. “I have no idea. But we do need to know how much the Administrative Committee really understands about what’s going on. Someone could be manipulating them to take a certain stand.”
“Approaching your Rider friends is one thing. Letting the Committee see you—”
“Quiet,” Timon ordered. He tilted his head and turned it toward the mountains in the east. “There are horsemen out there.”
“How far away?” Jamie asked, pulling on her discarded shirt.
“Close, and riding parallel to the river,” he said. He looked at Jamie. “If they’re Riders, I need to get to them and make them listen to me.”
Jamie tugged on her pants. “I’m almost ready,” she said.
He stared at her, cold calculation in his eyes. He’s thinking about whether or not to leave me here, Jamie thought.
“If something happens to you,” she said, “where will that leave me?”
“Perfectly safe,” an unfamiliar voice said, “as long as you come with us now.”
Chapter 34
Timon shoved Jamie behind him and faced the tree from which the voice had come. A white-haired Opir emerged from behind it, his arrow nocked and aimed at Timon’s chest.
“Run, Jamie,” Timon whispered. “I’ll take care of this one.”
“You can try,” another voice said, this time behind Jamie. “But we’d prefer to do this without violence.”
“Who are you?” Jamie asked.
“Freebloods,” Timon said in a normal voice. “I recognize their kind.”
“Rogues?” Jamie asked, remembering the Freebloods who had attacked the delegation before Timon and his band had come to escort them.
“We consider that word something of an insult,” the bowman said.
“What do you want?” Timon asked.
“Only to make sure you’re not hostile,” a third, female voice said. A woman appeared out of the shadows, graceful, ivory-haired and beautiful. “One can never be too careful out in the desert.”
Timon froze. “Artemis?”
Jamie remembered his stepmother’s name.
“Timon?” the Opir woman said. Her face split into a broad smile. “We wondered if we would ever see you again. When your father hears—”
“Is Garret well?” Timon said, his voice unsteady.
Artemis’s smile faded. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough.” She looked past Timon and met Jamie’s eyes. “You have nothing to fear from us,” she said. “Our scouts were just a little overzealous.” She gestured for her men to fall back. “May I ask your name?”
“Jamie. Jamie McCullough.”
“And I, as my stepson already mentioned, am Artemis.”
“What are you doing here?” Timon asked.
“We came to investigate the Conclave, though of course we were not formally invited,” Artemis said as Timon gathered his and Jamie’s gear and horses. “And you?”
What a strange reunion, Jamie thought. Timon hadn’t seen his stepmother since he was seventeen, and yet it was as if they’d barely been apart. If they’d ended their last meeting on a quarrel, you couldn’t tell it now.
But you could tell that Artemis was a woman who might lead Freebloods to a new way of life.
“We were also at the Conclave,” Timon answered. “It’s a complicated story.”
“If you’re headed there now,” Jamie said to Artemis, “you’d better wait until Timon tells you what’s happened.”
Timon gave a brief nod. “You may want to turn around and ride in the opposite direction,” he said.
“I doubt that very much,” Artemis said, an odd note in her voice.
Leading the horses, they walked out from beneath the trees and into an open area broken by the foundations of fallen buildings, shrubs and a few saplings. Three horses waited, two o
f them already carrying the scouts. Artemis leaped into her saddle, and Timon and Jamie did the same.
They didn’t have to ride far to reach the others. On the other side of a broad ditch stood thirty or so horses, each one accompanied by an Opir Jamie assumed to be a Freeblood. Most were armed with rifles, as well as bows and knives, though Jamie sensed no hostility as she and Timon approached. To the contrary; a number of the Freebloods called out to Timon, and others obviously recognized him.
One among them stood out, an Opir with short-cropped hair and way of carrying himself that seemed subtly different from the others. After a moment, Jamie realized that his face was very thin, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.
“Garret,” Timon said. He kept a firm grip on Jamie’s hand as he left their horses with the others and started toward his father.
“Timon.” Garret’s features flooded with emotion as he grabbed Timon in a firm embrace. Timon stood still for a moment and then returned the hug, only briefly releasing Jamie’s hand.
“My God,” Garret said when he let Timon go. There were tears in his eyes. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”
Timon took a step back and studied his father’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“No,” Garret said, gripping Timon’s arm. “I’m not going to waste the time we have now on past regrets.” He smiled as Artemis joined them. “Please introduce me to your friend.”
“Jamie McCullough,” Timon said before she could speak.
“A very good friend, I think,” Artemis said, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
Timon shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “She’s from the San Francisco Enclave, one of the delegates sent to the Conclave.”
“About which Timon apparently has much to tell us,” Artemis said, resting her hand on her mate’s shoulder.
“You’re in trouble,” Garret said, with a parent’s keen perception. “Out in the middle of nowhere... I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Neither do I,” Timon said, drawing Jamie to his side. “But you aren’t well, Father.”
Garret raised his brows as if he found the statement ridiculous, but he couldn’t conceal the telltale signs. Timon’s father had been infected with the virus.
“I’m a little tired,” Garret admitted with self-deprecating smile. “It’s nothing.”
Obviously prepared to argue, Timon shook his head. Jamie put her arm around his waist and leaned her head close to his ear.
“Maybe we’d better tell them what’s happened before we discuss it,” she said very softly.
Timon’s profile was tense with worry, but at last he nodded. As many as possible gathered close to Timon and Jamie as the two of them began to speak, laying out the bizarre occurrences at the Conclave and their own tentative theories as to the causes. Timon recounted his time with the Riders, and how his membership in the Brotherhood tied in with the events that might prove to be so deadly.
“The Erebusians,” Garret said, his body struck by a shiver as he spoke. “They seemed to agree with the changes for a while, but the improvements obviously didn’t last long after Ares and Trinity left them to their own devices.”
“If they’re guilty,” Timon said. “We have no absolute proof. We have to get it, and either clear Jamie’s delegation or find out if a citizen of the Enclave is part of the conspiracy.”
“The Opiri could even be framing my people,” Jamie said.
“There could be dozens of possibilities,” Timon said, “and we have to find out which is the right one.”
“By going back?” Garret asked. “They’ll take both of you prisoner.”
“I believe I can sneak into the encampment and get some of the other Riders on our side,” Timon said. “Jamie can remain with you.”
“You know I won’t stay behind,” Jamie said. “We have to rescue the rest of my people, Timon, before everyone is convinced they’re guilty.”
“We won’t be able to do it without a small army. If I can find enough Riders—”
“There is another way that might not end with your arrest,” Jamie said. She turned to Artemis. “Will you help us?”
Artemis’s eyes seemed to see right into Jamie’s heart. Jamie felt herself drowning in memories of her own mother, lost to her so long ago.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, especially since you don’t know me or my friends,” Jamie said. She met Garret’s gaze. “You need it, sir. You have the virus.”
Timon flinched, and Jamie could see his jaw flex over clenched teeth. “How long have you been ill, Father?” he asked.
“A week,” Artemis said. “We did not know what it was. We met two groups of travelers on the way here, one of them human. You know we don’t ordinarily take human blood, but they were so gracious...”
“Then it’s already spread beyond the Conclave,” Timon said.
Artemis and Garret conferred in silent communication. “What would you like us to do?” Garret finally asked.
“Get my delegation out of the encampment,” Jamie said. “An incursion from outsiders like you won’t be expected, and while you’re doing that, Timon can look for his Riders and I’ll find a way to speak with the Committee. If I can get them to consider our alternate theories for what’s happened at the Conclave—”
Timon folded his arms across his chest. “There’s no guarantee that the Freebloods can get you out again once you’ve seen the Committee...if you even make it that far.”
“I’m not letting you go in alone.”
“This sounds familiar,” Artemis murmured, with a half smile for Garret. She sobered again and turned to Timon. “I won’t ask our people to risk their lives without consulting them.”
“Understood,” Timon said. “But if you’re willing, I have an idea that might protect Jamie even if your band isn’t able to help us.”
“Timon—” Jamie began.
“Right now you’ll be wanted as a suspect,” he said to her. “That’s all you are to the authorities—a possible human criminal subject to temporary laws that can easily be twisted to the advantage of our enemies. But what if you were more than human, protected by different laws even the Erebusians can’t ignore?”
Artemis looked at him sharply. “Are you suggesting Conversion?” she asked.
“Turn me into an Opir?” Jamie asked in sudden understanding. “Of course. Any Opir who Converts a human essentially owns the new Opir until she chooses to release her vassal.”
“And the patron is entirely responsible for the vassal until that time,” Artemis murmured. “Only an Opir prepared for a deadly fight would attempt to break the bond, or take you away from your lord or lady.”
“Any previous acts on her part would be erased by the change,” Timon said. “Even Cassius couldn’t touch her.”
“And what about the danger to the patron, if someone should challenge him to get at me?” Jamie asked.
“Challenge is a risky proposition at any time,” Artemis said, showing her teeth.
“Do you understand what my son is telling you?” Garret asked Jamie. “Once you’re Opir, you can never turn back. Your human life will end. You’ll be confined to darkness unless you wear a heavy daycoat, and you’ll rely on blood for nourishment.”
“I do understand,” Jamie said, her heart beating faster. “I know I won’t belong in the Enclave any longer, and I’d never go to a Citadel...”
“But you won’t be alone,” Garret said, looking pointedly at Timon. “Not unless you want to be.”
Chapter 35
Jamie followed Garret’s gaze. Timon was staring fixedly at the ground, high color in his cheeks, and Jamie wondered if he was embarrassed because of his father’s bluntness or because he didn’t really feel what Garret obviously assumed he did.
“I’ll go
along with the plan if it means I can go back to the tent city,” she said. “Conversion means that I would also become stronger and faster, better able to fight.”
“Jamie—” Timon began.
“She’s right,” Artemis said. “You’re a fool if you think she’ll be willing to hide among us for her own safety.”
“That means whoever does this will have to give me the freedom to take necessary actions,” Jamie said. “Timon can’t Convert me, because he’s a half-blood. It would take a full-blooded Opir to do it.”
“Yes,” Timon said, glancing up. “And that Opir—” He stopped, his expression darkening as if he’d experienced some terrible inner revelation. “I’m an idiot,” he said. “It won’t work. Jamie carries the virus, so any Opir who changed her would be infected, as well.”
“I’m already infected,” Garret said. “I’ll do it.”
“No,” Artemis said. “You don’t have the strength.” She met Timon’s gaze. “I, too, am infected.”
Timon sat bolt upright. “No. You look normal, not—”
“Garret and I are not the only two in our band who suffer the affliction,” she said evenly. “We have found that this virus takes a different course with each individual. One of our people has already died, but I am barely showing the signs even though I have experienced the symptoms.”
“But you’re already starving,” Jamie said. “I can’t ask you to—”
“As long as I am strong enough to be of help, I will be,” Artemis said. She gave Garret a pointed look. “It will do no good to argue. If Jamie does not object...”
“No,” Jamie said, feeling deeply humbled. “I trust you.”
“I will not abuse the privilege,” Artemis said. “When this is finished, I will set you free.”
“I know,” Jamie said. A new thought struck her, and all at once her certainty evaporated. “Excuse me, but I’d like to speak to Timon alone.”
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