I keep stroking him as I feel hot cum soaking through my shirt. When the tension in his body starts to relax, I release my grip. He stays unmoving, breathing heavily. When he lifts his face out of the pillow, his dark eyes meet mine and he holds my gaze.
Holy Fuck.
What did I just do? What did we just do?
Sex.
It’s not like I didn’t know what it was. It’s not like I hadn’t heard Whisper talk about it often enough. There was no particular point when I learned about it; it just was. Just like plenty of other things. My accelerated growth meant that I didn’t experience a lot for myself... I just sort of absorbed it from Whisper’s mind and memories. It was just something that existed, irrelevant in my daily life.
Now, I understand.
I had only intended to help her relax. I could tell by the way she was acting that she was stressed. The events of last evening were no doubt playing through her mind, and she would have tossed and turned for a sleepless night. When she’s feeling that way, she touches herself. I’ve been aware of her doing so many times, her soft moans signaling the moment the tension leaves her body and sleep can take over.
I wanted to help her. I wanted to show her that I can be useful in this form. Certainly more useful than Gideon.
She stirs in her sleep, and I stroke her soft hair until she stills again. I pull her body closer, wrapping around her so that as much of me is touching as much of her as possible.
Touching her makes my skin feel like it’s electrified. Touching her while she found her release... that was like a bolt of lightning to every inch of my being. I’ve never felt such... need. I didn’t know what to do with it. I was considering leaving her side, putting some distance between us until I figured out how to get control over my own body.
Then she touched me. I hadn’t known such wholly consuming sensations, such pleasure, could even exist.
I nuzzle my face in her neck. I nip at her shoulder and run my fingers along her ribs, her side, her hip. I want to do that again. I want to do that and more. I want her to wake up now, turn toward me and touch me with those soft, skilled hands.
She moans encouragingly in her sleep, then slaps me away like a pest. I shouldn’t disturb her. She deserves the rest. I know what this body needs now. Just like Whisper’s done many times before, I can find my own release.
My hand isn’t nearly as satisfying as hers, but I find a pressure and rhythm that feels good. I let my mind wonder to thoughts of Whisper. The fresh, floral scent of her hair. The sweet, salty taste of her skin. The way her warm hand gripped me, stroking me from base to tip with such care and skill.
It doesn’t take long for the pressure to build. Every muscle in my body tightens until a wave of pleasure courses through me. I growl through clenched teeth as my release erupts across my stomach and chest. It’s far less intense than when Whisper helped, but the aftermath is total relaxation.
I make a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up the evidence of my experiment. Then I’m back at Whisper’s side, pulling her against me and surrounding myself in her scent and warmth. Sleep takes me quickly this time, and brings with it vivid dreams of us.
Motives
“What is this?”
“It’s a bar.” Gideon shifts in his seat, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. His tone is a little too forced for this to be a casual stop after a long day.
He arrived at my house at the butt-crack of dawn, which would have normally pissed me off, but for some reason I’d rather not think about, I got a great night’s sleep. Besides, the promise of a dragon ride in the morning is a sure way to get the blood flowing.
That was all the excitement on the menu though, as the rest of the day since has been what he calls ‘patrolling’. What that amounts to is Tarek and Damon taking to the air, watching for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary, while Gideon and I drive around in his truck doing the same. When the entire population of a city is upper class, there isn’t much suspicious activity to speak of.
This was not a good day for my mind to be idle. There might not have been much happening outside the tinted windows, but inside my head has been a shit show. I’m still trying to think my way through this mess with Charles. And then there’s Damon...
I can’t even believe what happened. It was so out of line, so unnatural, so wrong. But it didn’t feel wrong. Not last night, and not this morning when I woke up still held tight in Damon’s human arms. His thick bicep for a pillow, my fingers intertwined with his. It was anything but wrong. It felt... real.
But it’s not real. He’s a Shifter, not a human. I’m playing a dangerous game with him, and he’s the one who will end up getting hurt. If he gets caught, they’ll put him down. He shouldn’t be able to do what he’s doing. It’s not possible, or at least it’s not supposed to be. I can’t make a bit of sense out of it.
“Why are we at a bar?”
I hope he doesn’t pick up on the irritated edge to my tone. It’s definitely not him that’s got me bent out of shape. Not even a little. He’s been nothing but polite and professional all day, and I haven’t even pictured him naked once, which might mean I’m dying.
“I thought you could use a drink.”
Okay. I’ll play along. Maybe this is some kind of test. He tried to bore me all day, but I went along with it without complaint. Now he wants to see if I’ll get drunk and sully the good name of the Elites. Or maybe he’s planning an ambush, to test my reflexes after I let my guard down.
“Sounds good to me.” I flash him an overly cheery smile.
He just nods. I start to open the door, but he touches my arm and I jump.
“I need you to do something, but I can’t explain why. Can you do that?”
“Sure, boss. Whatever you need.”
He cringes at my use of the word ‘boss’. Guess he doesn’t like being reminded we’ve crossed a bit of a professional line. Thank fuck he doesn’t know that barely making out with him is the least inappropriate thing I’ve done.
He’s still working his hands on the steering wheel. “Put on the same outfit you used yesterday. Not the exact same, but same idea. Cover your tats and leave your weapons.”
His voice has an edge I’ve never heard in it before. I’m not sure if this is a test, but it’s clear he’s taking it pretty seriously. I do as he says, removing my weapons before digging into the glove box to find the screen that will hide my implant tats. After placing the tiny device and checking it in the visor mirror, I convert my clothes into the same low-rise jeans, and a deep purple halter top that leaves my back exposed.
“How’s this?”
He nods, but his eyes say plenty considering he can’t seem to tear them away from my bare shoulders. By his expression, I’m not sure if he’s about to bitch at me for baring too much or come across the seat and remove the rest. Hopefully neither.
“Good,” he says at last, looking away as if he just realized he’s been staring. “Just go in and get a drink. Something fruity. Then sit alone by the front window. Keep your eyes down and don’t interact with anyone who doesn’t approach you first. Like you’ve run away from home or fell out with friends.”
I wait for more, but it seems that’s all the info he wants me to have.
“Okay. How long do I stay there?”
“Not long. Just finish your drink slowly, maybe glance out the window like you’re nervous. When you leave, walk south. I’ll pick you up when I’m sure you haven’t been tailed.”
Okay then. This isn’t creepy at all.
I slide out of the truck, and the moment the door closes behind me I feel it. The thrill of being on a job. I might not have an actual mark, but the anticipation of the hunt is just the same. The mystery of not knowing the purpose of this exercise is a new kind of thrill, and I can’t say I’m not enjoying it. I slip into the character Gideon described.
I’m young, about 18. I’ve run away from home, tired of living a cozy life of luxury and eager for some excitement. I tr
ied to get my hands on some drugs yesterday to impress the new friends I’ve been hanging out with, but I chickened out when the tattooed guy got a little too personal. Now I’m second guessing my choices, but I still have a little rebel in me as I use my fake ID to get myself the weakest drink possible without stooping to beer. I’m terrified my parents will find me, even though they would never think to search for me in this part of town.
Once inside, I look around for a few minutes, getting acquainted with the layout and people. Down on the ground, this place would be a high-end spot. Up here, the chrome countertops and glass tables probably aren’t impressing anyone. The majority of the patrons are middle-aged men, wearing suits and looking like their desk jobs might just be the death of them. There’s a table of younger people celebrating something in a back booth. A few couples scattered around, knees touching under the tables.
I approach the counter, keeping my arms crossed in front of me as I order a vodka and cranberry. This character of mine probably doesn’t know what any of the drinks on the menu are, but she’s heard her mother order ‘vodka and cranberry’ at restaurants, so she can order that here with a measure of confidence in her voice.
Drink in hand, I make my way to a small table beside the front window. I glance at the street outside before settling my gaze on the drink in front of me. I’m looking around the room, too. I’ve never been in a bar, so it’s all a curiosity to me.
There’s a booth near me that catches my attention, though I don’t let on as my eyes continue to sweep the room, check the street, and watch my ice cubes swirl ahead of my straw. The booth that’s piqued my interest is near the window, just close enough that its occupants can see outside without being seen by anyone passing by.
There are three men sitting there. Two are facing away from me, but the third I can see clearly. Close cropped, dark hair and a handsome face. He’s clean shaven, lean but fit judging from the arm and thigh I can see around the side of the booth. I’m not sure at first what it is about these men that’s caught my attention, but after sipping delicately for the first half of my drink, it clicks.
They’re doing the same thing I am. Watching the other patrons and the street, only talking amongst themselves occasionally while slowly nursing their drafts. I don’t know what that means, but I have a suspicion this is the reason I’m here.
I let my eyes drift to the man facing me, and I’m not surprised to find he’s already looking my way. Our eyes connect for just a moment before I smile shyly and drop my gaze back to my glass.
I don’t look his way again, though I keep him in my peripheral.
My drink is almost gone, down to the watery mouthful at the end, when a blue t-shirt slides into the chair opposite mine. Hello, handsome. I look up with a startled expression, glancing quickly around the bar and out the window as if afraid this stranger has somehow brought my parents with him.
“Hello, pretty lady,” he greets me with a friendly smile and deep blue eyes that hold mine in a practiced, steady gaze.
“Hi, um, thank you.” I dip my eyes, then look back up at him as if incapable of keeping my gaze away.
“I’ve been watching you, sitting here alone. I wanted to join you, but I couldn’t imagine that a woman like you wouldn’t have a date arriving at any moment.”
“Oh, no, I... I was just about to head home.” My voice cracks at the mention of home, and the corner of his mouth twitches subtly.
“Don’t go yet.” He reaches across the table and places a warm hand lightly on mine. I jump at the contact, but don’t pull away. “I know we’ve only just met, but I feel a connection with you. I can see how just the thought of going home hurts you, and I can’t bear the idea of you hurting.”
I bite my trembling lower lip, turning my eyes to the window as I pull my hand from his to wrap my arms around myself. I try to think of a good response to his nauseating little speech, but nothing convincing comes to mind. Silence is probably the best option, anyway. I doubt he’s targeting me for the conversation.
“I know a safe place you can stay,” he continues, his baby blues full of concern.
“Thank you.” I slide out of the booth as if suddenly spooked. “I have to go, but thank you.”
I don’t look back as I make my way quickly to the door and out into the cool evening. My instructions were to leave when I finished my drink. Hopefully my abrupt exit took him by surprise enough that he won’t follow, but as I head south along the empty sidewalk, I get the feeling that’s not the case.
He’s following you. Damon confirms my suspicions. Take your next right. Gideon’s waiting.
I do as Damon suggests, imagining him watching over me from above. Just as he said, Gideon’s truck is waiting. I slide into the passenger seat and he rolls ahead, accelerating as quickly as he can without revving the engine.
“Who was he?”
It’s obvious that wasn’t a test. Gideon knew that man would be there, or at least suspected he would. I’m not sure why he felt the need to keep me in the dark, but I get the impression I’ve just been used as bait.
“Fuck!” Gideon’s fist slams into the steering wheel as he curses, and I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden outburst.
I snap my eyes from the deserted road ahead to the nearly empty sidewalks, but I can’t see any reason for his sudden alarm.
“What the hell?”
He pulls over to the side of the street and throws it into park, then scrubs both hands through his hair as he mutters a few more curses under his breath. I’m not entirely sure if I should question his behavior, or just sit quietly while he works through his problem.
He turns in his seat, bracing an arm against the wheel as his eyes lock on mine. The intensity of the emotion there takes my breath away, and all I can do is wait.
“I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, Whisper. Honestly. You were the only one who could get in there; get their attention. But I like you. I didn’t expect that to happen. I tried to find another way, but I can’t... I just can’t miss this opportunity.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Gideon? You’re not making any fucking sense.”
Holy shit, he’s having a mental breakdown.
Damon, are you close?
I’m here, little one. Are you okay?
I’m fine. Stay close.
“My sister was murdered almost a year ago. Her daughter, my niece, was taken.” He pauses, his jaw flexing as his chest rises and falls rapidly. He’s fighting to keep his composure, but his grief, his pain, is written all over his face. My own chest constricts, and I have to grip the edge of the seat to stop myself from reaching out to offer him comfort. “I know where they’re keeping her, but I can’t get close enough.”
“You’re an Elite. Surely the Elders would...”
“They won’t help.”
“Why wouldn’t-”
“They don’t believe me. Officially, Claire committed suicide. Camilla ran away. They said I was too close to the situation. That I wasn’t thinking clearly. They said I wasn’t looking at the facts, but I was the only one who knew the facts. Claire wouldn’t kill herself. Camilla wouldn’t run away. It’s just not possible.”
“If you’re so sure, the other Elites could help. If you proved what you’re saying...”
“It’s been almost a year. I begged and I fought for them to help me, until they threatened to strip me of my title. Without that, I’d have no hope of finding Camilla. They couldn’t see past the conflict of interest. The other Elites won’t disobey the Elders. It’s what we are. Puppets with the illusion of freedom.”
“Gideon, I’m sorry you’ve been through this, but why are you telling me now?”
He takes a deep breath as he looks at me. He seems older, the fine lines around his eyes deeper than I remember. His pale green eyes are dark, and there’s an almost visible weight in the slump of his shoulders.
How have I not noticed this before? The grief and pain he’s obviously been keeping just under the surface
. Why did he feel the need to hide it so well?
“I’ve exhausted all my leads, all my contacts, and all my options. Horizon Zero is more than just a massive organization; it’s an empire. I don’t know how high their reach goes, but it’s high enough that I know better than to shine a light on it. I just want my niece back. Safe.”
“What makes you think I can help you? If you haven’t been able to get near them...”
“Think about it, Whisper. You knocked on their front door, and they invited you in. You sat in plain sight, and they approached you. You’re probably the only Agent who can do this.”
So, it was a test. The house and the bar. Only he wasn’t testing me, he was testing them. Horizon Zero. He was testing to see if they liked what they saw. A sour taste rises in the back of my throat as the pieces come together.
“You want me to be taken.”
His eyes drop from mine even as his head nods in agreement.
“Did you even look at my file, or just my photo?”
“You deserve to be up here. You have more skill than most of your peers, or even most of the Elites I know.”
I scoff at that, though I do feel a twinge of guilt. He’s in a shitty place, and I sympathize with him, but there’s no way in hell I’m going against the Elder’s orders to help him. I need this promotion, and I need it fast. Going against the Elders to help an Elite who’s apparently on shaky ground as it is... that’s not the way to get what I’m after.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Gideon. But I’m here to earn my promotion. I can’t go against the Elders to help you, or anyone.... It would be suicide for my career.”
“They would never know. You just need to let them take you to their holding house, find Camilla when you get there, and help her escape. You have the skills. You can do this, and no one will ever know.”
Whisper in the Dark Page 9