by Elise Faber
“Cody,” she moaned, her breath coming in short pants. “I can’t wait.”
His fingers clenched on her hip, the tips coming dangerously close to her inner thighs. God, she ached. It had been so long since she could forget herself and just revel in being swept up in all that was Cody.
Arching in his arms, she bit his neck. “I. Can’t. Wait,” she thought and squirmed a hand between their bodies to grab the hard length of his arousal. “And neither can you.”
She barely felt the movement as he kicked the door open. All she could process were his hands on her body, his mind hot and liquid against hers, and his mouth.
Good lord, his mouth.
Cody was almost violent in his possession of her lips—biting and teasing, stroking his tongue along hers. He spun her around so fast that she could hardly track the movement, and Dee found herself pressed against a cold plank of metal.
“Where—” she started, but Cody kissed her again, stealing her breath, replacing it with his own air.
Give and take. Give and take. He might possess the most basic pieces of her body and mind, but he also gave.
So, so much.
But at that point, pinned against the hardness of his body and the steel of the door, Daughtry wanted nothing to do with his giving.
She wanted him to take.
Hard. Fast.
Now.
Cody didn’t need to be told. He read the intent in her mind. A second later, her skirt was lifted, her panties shoved to one side, and he was buried deep inside her.
She squirmed against the sudden invasion, not in pain, but in impatience. He needed to move. Like immediately.
It was a sign of how far gone Cody really was that he couldn’t decipher her emotions. His consciousness was a blur of desire against hers, but he noticed her stillness and asked, “Did I hurt—”
Shaking her head, she said, “No, love.” A tilt of her hips, a squeeze of her thighs around his hips. “Now it’s your turn for a ride. Come have it.”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
Fifty-Two
Daughtry came to cuddled in Cody’s lap. “Why are we on the floor?” she grumbled, feeling sated and very sleepy.
He chuckled. “Not exactly a lot of options for sitting in the armory, cowgirl.”
Blinking, she looked around and saw the racks of weapons hanging along one wall, the stalls with paper targets hanging at various distances. Damn. She’d been so lost in Cody that she hadn’t even realized they weren’t in their quarters—not by a long shot.
“I like it when you get lost.” His mental smirk was both purely male and well deserved.
She buried her face into his chest. “Me too, He-man. Me too.”
They sat like that, quiet and replete, for several minutes. Until Dee’s stomach growled loudly.
Though she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel Cody’s scowl against her mind. “When was the last time you ate?” he growled.
“Lunch,” she said and stretched. “And it’s only dinner time now, so just pump the brakes on the alpha stuff. Let’s grab takeout from the commissary and go back to our rooms.”
“How about you go back to our rooms, and I’ll grab the food.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “I’ll even let you pick the movie.”
“You’re not on patrol?”
Cody shook his head. “Nope. We’ve got the next twenty-four hours to ourselves, and I’ve got Alex on my side. She’s going to bully into submission anyone who thinks to disturb us.”
Dee smiled and fussed with her hair, tidying up her ponytail. “Twenty-four hours alone does sound pretty incredible.”
“I’ll take you any way I can have you,” he said, running a hand down her side. The heat of his palm fired her nerves and caused a shiver to skate down her spine. “But my favorite way to take you is naked.”
She laughed at his wicked tone, though her cheeks went a little pink. “Hush, you.” But she kissed him, and they left the armory, parting ways at the next corner. She took the corridor toward their quarters, Cody toward the cafeteria.
Tyler passed her in the hall and raised a brow, no doubt taking one look at her mussed ponytail and telltale blush. “I guess Cody found you,” he said, and if there was a twinkle in his eyes, then it was the first one that Dee had seen in a long, long time.
She tried to brazen it out, trailing her fingers against a mural of a child playing on a swing set, and leaving a swathe of purple and green magic temporarily across the surface. “Why would you say that?”
He smiled and, though it was small, it was genuine. “Probably because I just passed Alex in the same state as you, and that was after walking in on Gabby and Mason in the control room.”
Daughtry frowned. “Mason was supposed to be making her dinner.”
“He was making something, all right, and it wasn’t dinner.” At her look of shock—when was the last time she’d heard him make a joke?—he laughed. “I think they got distracted the same as the rest of you bonded folk. Insatiable, the lot of you.”
Heat flooded her face as she tossed a mock-glare at him. “Now I’m going to have to contend with teasing from both you and Morgan?”
Some of the light dimmed from his face, and with a pang, Daughtry realized she’d ruined the moment.
“No, I think,” Tyler said softly, “I think I’ll leave that particular mantle to Morgan.”
“I’m sorry.” It seemed inadequate after having so easily stolen the levity he’d possessed. For a minute, the sadness that seemed a permanent part of Tyler had been gone.
She’d brought it back.
Reminded him of what the Dalshie had done.
“You’re not one of them.”
Tyler turned up his palm, where months before, the dark magic had left a mark. Now there was nothing but unmarred caramel skin. “It’s there,” he murmured, his voice quiet and crystal blue eyes achingly sad. “It’s always there. Lurking. Waiting.”
Dee’s heart beat painfully fast. She remembered feeling imprisoned in her own body. Not understanding her visions. Not being able to touch someone for fear of seeing another death.
She remembered the black magic tempting her, calling to her.
And she also remembered how it felt to finally be free. To have Cody’s magic coursing through her, healing her, and pulling her free from the shadows.
“You’ll find someone. Someone who’ll make you whole and help—”
“No.” The word was sharp, punctuated by Tyler jerking back his hand.
The softness and warmth, even the despair disappeared. Instead, Tyler’s face went hard, his gaze steely.
“I just—” she began.
His shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch, the movement so slight that Daughtry might not have even noticed it if she hadn’t been watching him so closely.
Then she understood.
It was taking everything within him just to survive.
Her heart hurt for him. That had been her existence not so long ago.
“There’s someone out there for you, Tyler,” she said. “I know it.” He started to protest, but she squeezed his forearm to forestall the words. “When you’re ready and your heart is open, you’ll find the other half of your soul.”
He pulled his arm free of her grip a second time, but it was a careful, gentle movement, rather than a jerk. “Is that prophecy speaking?” he asked lightly.
Daughtry embraced him, ignoring the stiffness of his body, and the fact that he didn’t hug her back. “Not prophecy,” she said. “More like . . . woman’s intuition. And, because I know who you are.” Leaning back, she stared straight into his eyes. “You’re the man who came to the rescue of a girl he barely knew, one who threw himself into harm’s way to protect her, one who fought damned hard against a very powerful compulsion.” His gaze slipped away, but she grasped his jaw and turned his face back to her. “You’re a man I call friend. One who I’d trust my life with. One who I’d trust my sister’s life with.” Her
voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “And one who’s never held against me what my own mother did to you.”
Tyler brought his thumb up and swiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Then he cursed and dragged her close to his chest.
There weren’t any more words, but when he let her go and stepped back, she thought that the burden he’d carried on his shoulders was maybe just a little lighter.
“Be happy, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You certainly deserve it.”
And then she was alone in the hall.
Fifty-Three
Daughtry showered and found Cody waiting for her on the bed when she came out of the bathroom wrapped in just a towel. He held her favorite tank top and pj pants in his lap.
“Come here,” he said, crooking a finger, his mind scorching as his eyes traced her exposed skin.
As if she could deny him anything.
She crossed the room and didn’t protest when he took her in his arms. She was confused, however, when he started dressing her, pulling her tank top over her head and slipping her PJs onto her legs.
“This is unusual.”
The corners of his mouth quirked as he lifted her slightly to drag the pants up over her hips. “What is?” he asked. “That I’m putting clothes on instead of taking them off?”
She huffed out a laugh. “Um. Yes.”
He tucked her under the blankets then came back with a tray of food, setting it on her lap.
Daughtry looked down at the contents and felt simultaneously amused and filled to the brim with emotion.
“Cake for dinner?”
Cody shrugged. “Dessert first is my new motto in life.”
“Really?” She picked up the fork, scooped a bite of the chocolate deliciousness into her mouth, and promptly moaned.
“I think I need a taste of that,” he murmured.
Dee snagged another bite. “But you don’t even like chocolate—“
He bent and slanted his mouth against hers. It was hardly more than a brush of his lips against hers, but the heat of his mind upped the intensity of the kiss until she was ready to shove the tray aside and pull Cody atop her.
Which was exactly the moment he leaned back.
“You’re dangerous,” he muttered. “I’m trying to romance you, cowgirl.”
She’d already been romanced half an inch from death. “Cody,” she groaned, feeling the intensity of his desire. It made her ache. “I don’t need romance. I need you.” She leaned forward, the trays contents rattling, and nipped his lips. “Inside me.”
The plate rattled as he tossed the tray aside.
They both called on their powers and steadied it with air magic, directing it to a skidding stop atop the nightstand.
Then her clothes were off again, and Cody was naked. He touched and kissed and licked until she was writhing with desire. When she exploded, Cody was just seconds behind her.
Panting and skin damp with perspiration, he rolled to the side before tucking her close.
Her eyes felt heavy; her limbs limp with exertion.
“Sleep now,” he told her.
“The cake,” she mumbled, even as her lids slid closed.
Cody’s chest rumbled as he chuckled. “It’ll hold.” She barely heard his mental words as her mind drifted off. “For one night, the rest of the world can just hold.”
They woke in the middle of the night to devour lukewarm cake and pasta before Cody made love to her again, this time with incremental slowness. Daughtry felt as though they were trying to cram a lifetime of experiences into those short few hours.
Her intuition told her this was the calm before the storm, the stolen moments before the battle began.
She was desperate to hold on to the peace, to sew the night and the way Cody made her feel into her heart.
Because this quiet surely wouldn’t last.
The hours sped by. No matter how firmly she gripped the minutes, they slipped away, out of reach and gone forever.
Cody’s phone buzzed mid-afternoon with a text message. Daughtry’s a second later.
They looked at the screens together.
Report 1600 hrs. Briefing room.
Thirty minutes from then.
Daughtry plunked her head down on Cody’s chest. “So it’s happening?”
“What you’ve been feeling?” he asked.
She nodded, nestled her face against the warm skin and inhaled his ocean scent.
“Seems so,” he said. “It’ll be okay.”
Her words were muffled. “How do you know? Everything is all twisted inside.” Cody stroked her hair, gently unknotting the tangled ends. “I feel equal parts hope and dread. We’re that car perched on the precipice, threatening to either plunk back onto the road or fall down the hillside.”
Cody was quiet, his mind thoughtful. “I know we’ll be okay,” he finally said. “Because we’ve got each other.”
“I—”
“The Dalshie don’t love, don’t care. That’s got to count for something in this world.” He laced his fingers with hers. “And if it doesn’t, then this world isn’t worth being part of.”
Her heart twisted. “What are you saying?”
The panic in her mind must have been obvious because Cody pushed her back to stare into her eyes. “Not what you’re thinking, that much I’m sure of,” he said, his gaze slightly unfocused as he sifted through her thoughts. They snapped back to hers after a few seconds. “Jesus, cowgirl. I don’t have a death wish, and I won’t play martyr. But I sure as hell won’t let the Dalshie mar the world we’re living in.” His tone softened. “We need to stop hiding and face them head on. They’re chipping away at us. If we don’t act . . . nothing the LexTals have ever done will mean anything.”
Daughtry let his words soak into her. She knew they were the truth, no matter how much the idea of taking the battle to the Dalshie scared her.
The Rengalla were safe at the Colony. The LexTals were safe. Cody was safe. If he were gone—
No. She couldn’t go there.
Forcing a breath between her lips, Dee realized this must have been how the LexTals felt before they confronted the Dalshie during WWII.
Fear. Hope their sacrifice might make a difference.
Recognition that they were the only ones who had the ability to make that difference.
Shoving away her anxiety, she nodded. “This is our moment. Our time.”
“Yes.”
“Ready?” Cody asked.
One corner of her mouth turned up. “Always.”
Fifty-Four
“You’re insane,” John said and Daughtry had to admit she agreed with his assessment.
Alex rolled her eyes and sat up a little straighter in her seat. “I’m not. It’s a smart plan. We can’t wait around forever, allowing the Dalshie to attack us whenever they feel like it.” She shook her head. “That’s not a life. That’s a freaking turtle hiding in his shell.”
Dante cleared his throat as he tapped a stack of papers on the conference table, aligning their edges. They were back in the conference room, Daughtry and the LexTals all gathered around the smooth mahogany surface.
“So what you’re saying is that we’re afraid?” Dante asked, the words so quiet and controlled that she couldn’t stop the shudder from sliding down her spine.
His anger was easily discernible beneath the strict chains of his control.
“Yes, I think you’re afraid,” Alex said, brave but rather unwise Daughtry thought. Her sister jumped to her feet, put out a hand. “But not in the way you think.” Turning away with a sigh, she began to pace the room. “I know you don’t have a cowardly bone in your bodies, and I know you’re too noble to suggest this.” She stopped, faced the table. “But I’m here. Use my knowledge. Hell, use me as bait, I don’t care. Let’s eliminate the Dalshie where they hide and cut the Master’s legs from beneath him.”
“From what you’ve told us, their numbers far outreach ours,” Dante said. “It would be a suicide mission to go t
o their stronghold.”
“I’m not saying we storm the castle. At least not at first.” Her gaze drifted to Daughtry’s and she gave her sister an encouraging nod.
“Then what are you saying?” John asked.
“I’m only suggesting that we turn the Dalshie’s game against them,” Alex said. “They’ve spent years picking off easy targets, killing us by inches. I’m saying it’s our turn to do the same.”
Dante tapped his chin. “If we get them on the retreat, we can set a trap, hopefully draw the Master in and take him out.”
“But who’s going to be strong enough to do that?” Morgan asked. There wasn’t a modicum of fear in his tone. Rather, it was filled with curiosity. “He withstood a rocket launcher.”
“I can.”
It was the first time Daughtry had spoken during the meeting.
Cody opened his mouth, a protest already forming on his lips.
She touched his cheek, her voice soft. “You know it’s the only way.” Her eyes flicked up, drifted around the table. “I don’t have the training you have, but I am the strongest Rengalla alive. You get me close enough, and I’ll do my part. I will destroy the Master.”
What followed was nothing short of trying to herd a bunch of kittens—not enough hands and too many wriggly bodies to corral. Alex sat down with Dante and Tyler and mapped every single location of Dalshie strongholds she could think of.
Then came reconnaissance.
The triplets spent days on end scouting the spots Alex had pinpointed. Their minds were incredible. They could take one look at a place then come back and be able to mark every single wall, tree, or dwelling on a map.
In the end, there were a dozen targets—spaces that had good cover and few Dalshie. Individually, the locations wouldn’t make a huge dent in the Dalshie numbers, but taken out together in one swift attack? That would make a statement.
The Rengalla would no longer need to run. They would fight, would prove they were a dangerous adversary.
And if the Master took their bait, they might be down one very powerful enemy.