Darr

by Theresa Beachman

  With a sharp tug, he pulled his own t-shirt up and over his head, exposing the sleek muscles of his chest and the narrow definition of his abdomen. The sleek V of muscle descending south made her breath stall in anticipation. His arm was still dressed in white gauze from the bullet graze, and she pressed a kiss to the fabric, tracing her fingers down the defined hardness of his biceps before tasting the saltiness of his skin.

  She unbuckled him slowly, the chink of the metal buckle sounding clear and sharp. The leather slid through the fabric of his waistband, warm to her touch. But before she could go any further, his mouth found hers again, crushing her as he gathered her into his arms and carried her upstairs to where the sleeping bag was patterned with moonlight. He dropped to his knees and lowered her gently down, sweeping damp hair from her face.

  “So damn beautiful,” he whispered as he bent and licked her earlobe. She surged up against him, the curve of her spine arching toward him, her nipples grazing the hard planes of his chest.

  He shucked off his pants and underwear and was outlined for an instant in a flash of lightning, as he stood naked and unabashed. Then he dropped to his hands and knees, crouching at her feet. His gaze pinned her to the blanket with raw masculinity, devouring her body, inch by greedy inch. His hand slid down her side, curving around her hip. With surprisingly gentle touch he removed her jeans and underwear. “Tell me, V, tell me what you want.”

  She reached for him, stroking her fingers over the slick wetness at the head of his cock. He was smooth and soft and hard in her hands, all at the same time. He growled, low and throaty. Heat flared in her abdomen.

  “You. All of you.” Make me forget.

  With one commanding hand, Darr pushed her back onto the blanket. Then he retreated and kissed her anklebone, his tongue licking the soft skin just below, every caress fueling the throb of pleasure building between her legs.

  Heated palms pressed her thighs apart as he rose to kiss and suck the tender inside of her knees. Violet relaxed onto the blanket, small animal sounds escaping her as she succumbed to his touch and the delicious friction of his beard

  Through half-open eyes, she watched the toned muscles of his shoulders flex and shift as he kissed and licked her inner thighs. He skirted her wound, planting a butterfly kiss on the gauze, before nipping the undamaged skin gently with his teeth. Then, without warning, he slicked his finger across the swollen nub of her clitoris.

  Pleasure blazed through her and her eyes fluttered shut. There was nothing else now, nothing but Darr and the way he controlled her body. The Chittrix, the death, the blood and never-ending loss, all of it was wiped away. There was just her and this amazing man who made her feel things she had forgotten existed.

  Then he was above her, dominating her. Sculpted abdominal ridges pressed into the curve of her belly. His head dropped low, nipping the sensitive skin just under her ear while his hand delved between her legs, his fingers gently pressing her thighs apart before sinking into her hot wetness. She gasped his name as he tormented her with expert fingers.

  He stroked her clitoris with no mercy, driving her closer and closer to the edge, his fingers sliding between her hot folds and forcing the breath from her lungs. Her head hit the blanket with an audible thud as she bucked, craving more, grasping the sweet oblivion he offered with everything she had.

  He dipped his head and sucked one nipple, then leaving a wet trail, raked his teeth across the other. More. Violet wanted more. She wanted him to take her and never stop.

  She felt his smile against her cheek, then he twisted to whisper in the curve of her ear. “Enough.”

  He rolled off her and reached for his backpack, turning a second later with a condom foil in hand. He chuckled, his teeth white in the gloom. “Firelighters, water carriers…the list is endless.”

  As he returned to her, Violet shoved her hand into the dark thickness of his hair and clenched a handful, capturing his face close to hers. Warm breath caressed her eyelashes as he covered her with his body, pressing her thighs apart with his pelvis.

  “Please,” she muttered, her thighs clasping his, holding him close.

  “Please what?”

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her face heating.

  He kissed her eyelids as he lifted himself, the thick head of his cock bumping in an exquisite tease against her clitoris. His voice was a low rumble in her ear, brushing against her damp hair as he muttered her name in hushed reverence. His lips and teeth moved lower, trailing electricity wherever their skin connected.

  She risked opening her eyes as he paused, lifting his skilled mouth from her body. His eyes glittered in the half-light as he licked his lips slowly. He was suspended above her, his unyielding planes of muscles illuminated in the flashes of pink light that cracked through the window from the storm outside.

  This was what she’d wanted, what she needed. She just hadn’t known it.

  Him.

  Helping her forget the mess they lived in. Showing her there was more even when the world had gone to hell. He released her wrist, cupping her cheeks in his palms, kissing her deep and driving away the madness.

  Violet dug her hands into the muscles of his back, her breath coming in short, thick pants as Darr buried his face in the curve under her ear and pressed deep inside her with one thrust. The force of his hips spread her legs wide as pleasure fractured through every cell in her body and she hooked her legs around him, urging him deeper.

  He withdrew briefly, only to ram himself back inside her, driving her higher, the thick hair at his groin rubbing across her clitoris. He began to thrust, his hips driving her hard. His hand cupped the nape of her neck, his fingers entangling in her hair and binding them together.

  Violet’s legs hooked around him, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs and offering him deeper access to her body. Electricity skated through her lower belly as she arched and came hard in a blinding obliteration of molten heat. Darr swore in her ear, his breath hot and wet. With a final obliterating thrust he hammered deep within her, calling her name, claiming his own release as aftershocks pulsed through her core.

  “Darr,” she moaned as his body relaxed on top of her. She grabbed his face and kissed him hard. He broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead on hers, his blue irises clear and calm for the first time since he’d pulled her out of the van.

  The sensation of being held by him, his strength and warmth enveloping her, was as close to perfect as she could have ever imagined. It felt so natural being in his arms and having him take care of her, even if deep down, she worried about what it meant. This softening and letting down her defenses, she didn’t know if it was a good idea.

  Violet sighed into the crook of his neck. She was a soldier, and she had to fight.

  But couldn’t she have Darr too?

  27

  Something disturbed Darr’s dreams.

  Scratch-tap. Scratch-tap.

  He resisted, his sex-sleepy brain reluctant to end the warmth and comfort of being wrapped around Violet.

  He rolled and automatically reached for his crossbow, snagging the weapon from under the edge of the blanket. Morning light penetrated the thin hospital curtains, striping the ceiling in pale apricot bands. Was it just him, or was the light different waking up next to Violet? It was brighter with her at his side, the possibility of a different life hazy on the horizon.

  He turned toward her. She was still asleep, her breathing slow and heavy, the swell of her breasts pressed against his arm, her foot tucked into the crook of his knee. He smoothed a loose strand of hair from her forehead, and she mumbled, her lips curling in a half-smile of drowsiness. He kissed the top of her head and inhaled her warm scent. A bubble of happiness rose through him.

  Last night she had wanted him just as he was, no questions asked. For a short while, he’d been whole. His thoughts, for the first time in months, were cool and clear. He exhaled a long breath, his hand clasping the crossbow against his rib cage.

  Maybe things c
ould be different.

  Scratch-tap. Scratch-tap.

  Darr held his breath. The hospital was a ruin. A rabbit or a mouse?

  Scratch-tap. Scratch-tap.

  Something wasn’t right. The bright morning faded in his awareness as he waited for the sign he knew was coming.

  Pain burst through his mind in a sour surge, signaling the true source.

  Alien.

  He sat up, the blanket falling from his bare chest, the chill air tightening his skin. The room was empty save for him and Violet.

  Directly ahead. The door that led to another smaller connecting office was open by several inches. He held his breath, observing the small gap, slotting a bolt into the crossbow in a slow, controlled movement.

  Scratch-tap.

  A shadow flickered in the opening between the door and wall. And again.

  Then an alien shape blocked the light from the doorway, and a harsh snuffling filtered through.

  Darr reached under the blanket and squeezed Violet’s arm. Whatever it was, it was enormous, obscuring most of the light filtering through the gap. Too solid and broad to be a Chittrix. Flashes of iridescent orange and red flickered in the doorway.

  Bolts of electric agony pierced the roots of his teeth. “Violet.”

  “Mmm?”

  “Wake up.” He squeezed her arm more forcefully this time and felt her tense, her body shifting into full alertness as she reached for her own weapon.

  He bent low and whispered into the shell of her ear, pain building to a crescendo between his ears. “Get dressed.” Focused on the door, Darr pulled on his cargo pants, grateful they were close by. His boots were a few feet away, forcing him to crawl and retrieve them, before looping his crossbow over his shoulder.

  He risked a glance across the room. Violet was dressed, her SIG tucked into her waistband as she laced her own boots tight, her face taut with fear.

  Scratch-tap.

  Darr stepped away from the noise, toward the main office that led to the hall and escape.

  His boot soles squeaked against the wooden floor.

  He froze, not daring to breathe. Blood pounded in his fingertips, in time with the migraine-like throb splitting his head in half. This was different from the Chittrix and Scutters. Similar, but different. He swallowed, resisting the wash of nausea plucking at his insides.

  Tap. Tap.

  The door separating them from the source of the noise slowly opened a further inch. Violet’s eyes widened in a silent question. Darr stared at the door on the far side of the room that would take them out into the corridor, estimating the distance.

  Too far.

  The inner door finally swung fully swung open and the room darkened as a millipede with gray-blue scales, and fiery orange pincers filled every inch of the doorway. Talon-tipped legs drummed and undulated against the floor.

  Scratch-tap. Scratch-tap.

  The barbed pincers crisscrossed its mouth in a sawing motion as the forefront of the alien extended into the room, exploring the air. Jointed antennae flicked in and out of the gaping jaws.

  Empathic acidic bile stung Darr’s mouth, scalding his tongue. It’s tasting us.

  It reared up on sheathed hind legs, towering above them, its slated back extending at least eight feet behind. The mouth widened, and its jaws clicked, masticating thick strands of mucus.

  Knowledge invaded Darr’s brain in a creaking rush.

  It was preparing to spit. To disable them.

  He sucked in a breath and fought for equilibrium. Hunger filled every crevice of his being. Intense, gnawing hunger. The millipede was starving, lost and isolated from others of its kind. He saw them now, curled into tight balls of armored plating, their legs brushing against each other in a ceaseless blur of alien grooming, burrowed safely in the soft earth, deep underground. Limbs vibrated over the milky globes of eggs clumped between the adult forms, sliding against plated chitin into dark, moist gaps in the soil.

  Darr sensed hesitancy as he brushed against the alien consciousness with his mind. He took the advantage, firing a bolt from his crossbow before he dove toward the exit.

  “Run!” he shouted, his outstretched arms snaring Violet and pulling her to the hall.

  Darr didn’t look back. Air shifted around him as the millipede recoiled, and lunged, its teeth snapping closed inches from his spine. He stumbled into the corridor, sweat stinging his vision, Violet’s hand clutched in his steely grip. A hot wave of protectiveness surged through him as he steered her escape. He’d brought her here. It was his responsibility to get her out safely.

  Darr took the lead and sprinted, colliding with the swing doors so hard they ricocheted off the walls, cracking the plaster. He blanked the pain in his injured arm and shouldered through each set, clearing a path for Violet to the main stairway.

  Her fingers were knotted with his, her breath ragged and loud. “It’s gaining on us!” she screamed.

  28

  Darr didn’t look. He knew the millipede was gaining.

  Scratch-tap-tap. Scratch-tap-tap.

  The rhythm sped up as the alien accelerated in pursuit. Constricting muscular cramps throbbed across Darr’s skull, the millipede’s increasing proximity clamping down on the blood supply to his brain. His vision fuzzed at the edges until he bit the inside of his cheek, the sudden burst of blood blowing through the mental fog.

  If the thing got much closer, he’d pass out. His breathing contracted in a spasm of panic, short-circuiting as they bolted through a patchwork of surreal sunlight. Light and dark. Warmth and chill.

  At the end of the corridor, Darr ducked into a kitchen, upending pans and trolleys in their wake, anything to slow the millipede. Metal crashed, and glass shattered. He yanked drawers from their moorings, tipping cutlery in a clattering cascade at their heels. Seconds later, he hit the rear double doors and risked a glimpse.

  The millipede stormed the kitchen entrance, its talons a clicking frenzy of barbed chitin. Darr’s bolt protruded from the top of its head like an antenna, bobbing wildly with its advance. Thick, white, ropey strands streamed from its jaws as its head lashed from side to side, seeking their body heat.

  Shit. Clearly, it wasn’t giving up and its need for their hot blood blasted through him like fire.

  Lungs almost bursting, Darr careened through the exit doors and dragged Violet up an access corridor to the main hospital stairwell. Ahead of him, pale yellow sunlight spilled through the window onto the landing like a mirage. His legs ate up the distance in a pumping blur, descending to the main foyer three stairs at a time.

  At the bottom, Violet swerved toward the glass entrance doors, her feet skidding to gain purchase on the wooden floor, but Darr towed her in the opposite direction as the millipede tracked down the stairs in clicking undulation.

  Violet crushed his fingers. “Outside!”

  “No time. It’s too fast.”

  He barreled through a red fire escape door, hitting the service stairwell that descended to below ground level at the rear of the building. Confusion and longing to be out in the bright winter’s day flashed across Violet’s face. But Darr knew this building like the back of his hand.

  He squeezed her fingers. “Trust me.”

  The corridor was dark, only small slashes of glass above their heads providing any daylight. Thick white fibrous roots had broken through the windows, seeking sustenance. Some were alien, twitching and shivering as they ran underneath. Darr ducked instinctively, protectively palming the top of Violet’s skull.

  The plant room was silent and sheathed in shadow, light struggling to gain access through the narrow windows that edged the ceiling. No doubt before the invasion, the room would have been warm and humming with electricity. Now it was cold and bleak, a dead relic.

  Six large metal squares marked the center of the floor. Each was daubed in orange government-issue paint with a number corresponding to the floor of the hospital it served. Darr grabbed a crowbar from a rail of maintenance tools hanging above a tech
nician’s workstation and jammed the metal tip into the grooves of the nearest metal square. He leaned into the tool, working it as a lever, his muscles protesting.

  Violet’s hands closed over his as she added her weight to his efforts. An involuntary grunt escaped Darr as the service hatch cover submitted and broke free in screeching protest. He staggered as he grabbed the lid and tossed it to one side. Musty, damp air rushed up to greet him from the dark shaft.

  He dropped to his knees.

  Violet snatched a flashlight from the maintenance desk, clicked it on, and directed it down into the shaft.

  “Service conduits for drones supplying wards. Too narrow for alien millipedes,” Darr explained as he took the flashlight and dropped into the space feet first. The ceiling was low—around five feet—and he had to stoop.

  Violet quickly followed him as the millipede surged into the room, its orange talons gripping the doorframe in a wicked blur. Darr took her shoulder, hustling her away from the access hatch. “Come on. It exits in the delivery terminal at the rear of the hospital.”

  Violet hustled back from the agitated clicks of the approaching millipede, jolting against Darr. Fear and disabling pain made him clumsy. He slipped and fell on the metal floor, smashing his coccyx in a splintering flare, his crossbow jamming into the muscles of his back. Light whirled around them in a dizzying kaleidoscope as his flashlight spun free.

  Above them, the millipede refused to be diverted by the restricted entrance. It threw itself against the narrow frame in a shuddering assault. The metal groaned under the impact but held fast while the millipede shrieked, withdrew, and launched itself in a repeat attack.

  Thump. Thump.

  Violet bumped up against Darr, and he heard the click of a safety before she unleashed a hailstorm of bullets. Darr lunged for the flashlight and directed the beam for her, seeking out the edges of the creature’s armored plates where her bullets would have the most payoff.