by Jade Alters
She shakes her head again. It must feel strange, to her, to be told that everything she thought she knew about herself and her family was wrong.
“I need to think about it more before I talk about it,” she finally says.
Dane and I nod. After all, if it wasn’t for Luciana, neither of us would be here right now. We owe her our lives, and if all she asks for in return is a bit of processing time, then we’re more than willing to give it to her.
“Luciana, thank you,” Dane says.
Luciana starts, jolted from her thoughts.
“What for?” she asks with a frown.
“The antidote worked,” I reply. “I didn’t believe you could do it, but you did.”
“It isn’t perfect,” Luciana says with a grimace. “You still died.”
“But now we know that we can be revived,” Dane explains. “Even if the antidote isn’t perfect, it will save our lives until it is. I’m assuming you’ll keep working on it?”
Luciana gives him a weak smile.
“Yeah,” she says. “Maybe I’ll be able to prevent death altogether.”
“We’ll help however we can,” I say. “In the meantime, I think Dane and I should carry a vial of the antidote you have right now at all times. Just in case.”
“I’m not sure you’ll be able to administer it to yourself,” Luciana warns. “You blacked out within seconds of being poisoned, Warwick, and you were in too much pain to know what was going on around you.”
“Then we’ll be even more careful,” Dane says, giving me a hard look. “We won’t risk anything anymore.”
I grimace. It seems my flying days are over, permanently. Perhaps seeing the distress on my face, Dane sighs.
“I was thinking of building another barn,” he says suddenly, in an offhand manner. “A really big one, maybe lowering it into the ground with a high roof. Plenty of room in it.”
I understand what he’s saying instantly. A barn that the two of us can go to in order to stretch our wings without danger, to be who we are. I grin at him and he smiles back.
“That sounds wonderful,” Luciana says warmly. “I can’t wait to see it. My father has a few contacts, maybe we can get some of them to help with building it.”
“Sounds good to me,” Dane says with a nod.
I lean back. To think, last night, I was certain that none of us would be here anymore. Yet here we are, discussing a building project and future antidotes.
Luciana stands and stretches her arms over her head. She yawns, suddenly looking very tired.
“Dane, I might pass on the coffee, actually,” she says as the kettle boils. “I might head home and have a shower instead. My animals are going to need feeding and I can’t remember if I actually locked my door last night.”
“Actually, ours will, too,” I say, glancing at Dane. “I didn’t feed them last night; they’re going to be furious with us.”
“It’s fine,” Luciana says. “I fed them while I was waiting for you to get home yesterday.” She shrugs when we gape at her. “I had hours to worry and think, so I figured I’d make myself useful.”
“Well, I’m glad of that,” Dane says with a smile.
Is it just me, or does he seem far warmer toward Luciana now? I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. After all, she did save us. If that didn’t convince Dane to trust her, nothing would.
Also, the discovery that she wasn’t as ‘normal’ a human as we had all originally thought probably helps, too.
“Do you want me to walk you home?” I ask, standing as well.
“No, Luciana says, shaking her head. “Thanks, but I think I need some time to myself.”
Is she going to think about how dangerous it actually is to be around the two of us? I don’t want to lose Luciana, but I’m not going to force her to stay if she decides that she can’t be around us because of how dangerous it is.
My thoughts are cut off, however, when Luciana steps toward me and leans up to kiss me softly. All doubts and worries instantly fade at the touch of her lips, but she withdraws with a soft smile before I can reach out to her.
“Come and see me later?” she asks. “I think I’ll be alright by then?”
Well, it definitely didn’t look like she was having second thoughts. If she was going to leave me, I would have expected her to be more distant. The idea that she might want to stay is so amazing that I can’t help the grin that spread across my face.
“I’ll come by for dinner,” I promise.
“Sounds good,” she says. She glances over to Dane. “I’ll see you later, too, Dane. I definitely won’t refuse you if you want to help out again.”
He laughs and I have the oddest feeling that I’m missing something. But the solemn air has completely disappeared now, and I can’t bring myself to care. Instead, I watch Luciana as she leaves and I smile.
Everything is going to be alright.
Luciana
As the hours pass into the afternoon, I sigh and set aside my father’s journal, closing my eyes as I process what I’ve just read.
I’ve tried my hardest not to look too deeply into my father’s personal life. I didn’t want to know why he left me on my own following my mother’s death. I was only a teenager, and being left behind was still a memory that I would rather not think about, especially when I only had a simple letter explaining that he couldn’t stay any longer.
Everything in my life had happened because of that moment, and it had all led back to here. And now I’m reading the words that he left for me, and it tells a story that I never knew.
My mother was a psychic on the run when she and my father first met and fell in love. He offered her sanctuary, the chance to be a normal human. When I was born, it was immediately evident that, should they be cultivated, I could also have the talent of a psychic, though I may have had to try harder due to being half human.
But that knowledge terrified both my parents. They did everything in their power to prevent me from ever knowing of my heritage, unwilling to drag me into a world that would see me killed. It worked right until I was a teenager, when a Hunter that my mother had known in her youth finally tracked her down and killed her.
My father was well known as her husband, and he knew that just the knowledge that I was a psychic’s child would endanger me. So he fled to Australia, leaving a false trail for Hunters to find.
When his death grew closer, a death that my mother had long ago predicted, he threw himself into creating his journal for me. Every page is so full of regret that I can barely breathe.
Why did I never know any of this? I understand that my parents wanted to protect me. But the result was that I grew up with no answers. I had no idea why my mother had been killed. I didn’t know why my father had disappeared, and I had no idea why he had bought me a plane ticket to set me up in Brazil, my mother’s home country and where I had originally been born. The lack of any answers in my life had driven me into Doctors Without Borders, where I was able to risk my life and live a high stakes game. The only stability I had in that time was David, and even that disappeared on me. I was falling from the rails long before I received my inheritance.
Part of me is angry. This explanation finally gives me the answers I’ve sought, but it’s never going to be enough for everything I’ve suffered.
Another part of me is sad. So much happened to both my parents, and it’s upsetting to realise that they were in much the same position as Warwick and Dane. Only, their story didn’t have a happy ending. How many other people in the world, who had suddenly lost family and friends, were unaware of what had happened to them because they lived in this world?
But, mostly, I just feel tired. I don’t want to think about the revelations. I don’t want to think about the fact that my recently dormant psychic blood is now screaming for attention. And I don’t want to think of my father’s regret.
I just don’t want to think.
As if on cue, I hear a knock on the door. I force myself to my feet, gri
macing as I look at the time. It’s later than I thought it would be, and I haven’t even thought of preparing dinner for Warwick and I. With a sigh, I trudge to the front door and open it.
“Hey,” Warwick says, the smile on his face falling as he takes a look at me. “Is everything okay?”
“I was just reading my father’s journal,” I say with a shrug. “It wasn’t an easy read. Sorry, I haven’t got anything for us to eat yet.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Warwick says instantly, and holds up a basket I hadn’t realised he was holding. “Dane decided to bake to keep his mind off everything, and he sent me over with some muffins. It might not be healthy, but we can have these. I don’t feel particularly hungry.”
“Neither do I,” I say with some relief. “Come on, we’ll take these to the living room.”
We decide to sprawl on the couch and turn the television on, a movie playing softly in the background. I have no idea what it is, as I slowly munch on a muffin, too focused on how tired I am and everything that has come to light.
But I certainly feel it when Warwick’s hand finds its way to my thigh and slowly slides up to my hip.
Suddenly, I’m not tired anymore. My spine straightens and my breath catches as Warwick pauses and then continues to slide his hand up. His blunt nail drags on the material of my shorts, teasing the hem before he circles my hip. Then he slowly traces his fingers up my spine.
The movie and my half-eaten muffin are completely forgotten. Shivers run up and down my body. Suddenly, I know what I want more than anything right now.
I want Warwick.
As he reaches my neck and starts playing with my hair, I snap and pull away so I can swerve around to face him, shifting onto my knees. The bastard doesn’t even have the modesty to look caught. He just grins at me, his eyes gleaming as though he had expected this from the start.
It doesn’t matter. Obviously we both need this. I lean in and crash our lips together.
It’s nothing like the soft kiss we shared this morning. This is hard and fast and dirty, and I know that every pent-up emotion we’ve had all day is being poured into it, our tongues tangling as they explore and map each other’s mouths. Before I know it, I’m straddling Warwick’s hips, sitting on his lap, and I can feel his swiftly growing interest through his pants as his hands fall to my hips and grip tightly.
Then, suddenly, Warwick pulls away, drawing a keening sound from me.
“Are you sure?” he pants. “A lot has happened today…”
I’m not in the mood for some misguided attempt at chivalry. I grind my body down on his hips and he cuts off with a gasp.
“Shut up and touch me,” I demand.
After that, there were definitely no more complaints. We meet in a fierce kiss once more, and I can feel Warwick’s hands roaming my body, tugging my shirt instantly up and over my head. We break the kiss for a moment so that my shirt can be pulled off, and then I lean in again, blindly scrabbling at his buttons.
Perhaps part of this is that I just want to forget. But that doesn’t matter. Yesterday, I almost lost Warwick. The world had stopped for me then, too, and, too late, it had occurred to me just how important this man was in my life. Somewhere along the way, I’ve fallen in love with him. I got him back, but it makes me feel the need to touch him to forget just how lifeless he was, to remind myself that he’s here with me now.
I need him. Now and forever. I know, from the look in his eyes this morning, that part of him is afraid that I’ll leave, but the danger that surrounds him has just convinced me that I never want to leave his side. I want to make sure he stays in this world, with me. I won’t let our story end the same way that my parents did.
With this thought, I yank the rest of the buttons off and push it over his shoulders so that I can run my hands down his smooth chest, feeling the heat from his body under my palm. His cock is hard beneath me, and his hips jerk upward in little, helpless motions, searching for more friction. I can feel his heartbeat, its rhythm normal and strong, beneath my palm, making something frantic within me finally settle.
He’s here. He’s with me. I have him.
I break the kiss and pull away. This time he’s the one left bereft and he follows me for a moment before realizing that I’m standing, fumbling with the button on my shorts.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, looking up at me.
The compliment makes me smile. Sometimes, I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. I wonder how it is that this man has decided that I’m the one for him. I want to spend the rest of our lives finding out the answer.
My shorts drop to the floor and I step out of them, stretching my arms over my head and relishing in the way his eyes wander over my body, clad only in underwear. He’s unzipping his own pants as he stares, shoving them down his legs and kicking them off, and I can see his cock tenting in his boxers, the material wet where the tip is leaking.
Slowly, I reach behind me and unclip my bra, suddenly wanting to give him a show, and he reaches down with a growl.
“Uh-uh,” I say, making him pause, and I give him a wicked smile. “Don’t touch. That’s mine.”
He groans again, but his hand falls to his side even as he pants. I allow my bra to fall to the floor and then I slide my panties down my legs, pulling them off before I allow them to puddle on the floor. Then I kneel down beside Warwick, seeing how his eyes are locked intensely on me, and finger the hem of his boxers.
His hips buck. He’s close, as I am, the intensity of everything between us making everything hard and fast. But I’m not beyond teasing him just a little, needing to hear the sounds that he makes to remind me that this is all real, that he’s with me.
I drag his boxers down, careful not to touch his weeping cock, and he lifts his hips impatiently.
“Fuck, Luci,” he groans, so far gone that he shortens my name. “Hurry up.”
I pull his boxers away and crawl over him, throwing a leg at him once more. He looks up at me, gaze dark and full of fire, and my heart beats faster as I see his desire.
God, I love this man.
I’m so wet with my own desire that my legs shudder, straining to hold me on my knees as I hover over him. I reach down and grip his cock in one firm hand, making him moan, and I slowly lower myself, guiding it toward me. When he pierces me, we both gasp, and I pause for a second, my legs shuddering even more.
More, I need more. I lower myself down further, his hips jerking up slightly to help me in, and, when I’m fully seated on his lap, I press my forehead to his shoulder, catching my breath. His hands are on my hips again, his grip almost bruising, and I pant, overwhelmed with the feeling of having to pull him into myself.
When I’m ready, I look up again. Warwick’s eyes are closed as he concentrates on breathing, almost as far gone as I am. Then pop open however, as I slide myself up and then back down.
It takes us a moment to find a rhythm. It’s not the first time we’ve done this, but I need to be in control right now, to touch and know he’s here. Warwick is perfectly happy to give this to me, his hands only guiding me as he bucks his hips up to meet mine with every downward thrust.
It isn’t as fast and furious as I expect it to be. But each thrust is long and deep, and my eyes roll back as he seems to be pulled deeper and deeper into me, my muscles tight around him. I lose track of time as I bounce on his lap, feeling the building heat in my stomach. All too soon, my own thrusts become sloppy, my legs struggling to help me up until it’s Warwick’s hands that urge me, so close that I can almost see the wave as it hovers over me.
And then it crashes. I slam myself down one final time and slump against Warwick, my eyes closed tightly as I cry out wordlessly, my entire body shuddering. I feel Warwick thrusting up a few more times before he, too, shouts out, and we ride our orgasms out, the desire swarming over us in overwhelming waves.
Slowly, it recedes and I open my eyes. I’m leaning against Warwick’s chest, boneless, and I can feel his cock, hard and ready t
o go again. I don’t see any reason to get up.
Warwick moves beneath me and, with a groan, I pull myself up and then slump down at his side. Warwick’s arm slides around me and I close my eyes.
Warwick
I don’t know how long we lay, stretched out, on the living room floor. Eventually, however, Luciana nudges me and we stumble, yawning, toward the bedroom. When we get there, we crash down on the covers and are asleep in moments, the last twenty-four hours finally catching up to us.
When I wake, it’s to the sound of Luciana breathing heavily in my ear. I can’t help but snort and she groans before rolling over, obviously not ready to wake up yet. Free of her grasp, I sit up and yawn.
It’s nice, waking up like this. I can see myself doing this for the rest of my life, now, Luciana in my arms at night and waking up to see her peacefully sleeping expression.
I’m not sure what sort of life I’ll be able to give Luciana. But it seems that she wants that life just as much as I do, if the fact that she’s still beside me is any indication.
As though she senses my eyes on her, Luciana yawns, grumbling into her pillow, and then her eyes flutter open. She glances at her clock first and grimaces before glancing at me.
“The one thing I can’t get used to is the early hours,” she says, her voice thick with sleep.
I laugh.
“Better get used to it quickly if you’re planning on staying,” I say.
She smiles sleepily at me.
“Of course I am,” she says, and the part of me that was still unsure what she wanted settles. “I have no intention of leaving now.”
Unable to help myself, I lean down and kiss her softly.
“I love you,” I say.
Her eyes widen and I stiffen. I hadn’t meant to say that, not yet. I’ve been in love with her for some time, now, even if I didn’t realize it until recently, but I’m not sure now is the best time to confess in the wake of everything else that happened.
