Crimson

by Jordan Summers

  Red returned to the tendon bulging at the base of Morgan’s neck. It strained beneath her lips, so enticing, so inviting. She could no longer resist. The world flashed brilliant colors a second before she bit down.

  Morgan’s body jerked, driving his erection deep into her body.

  Red gasped at the sudden invasion as her channel adjusted to his size, but she didn’t let loose. Instead, she drew deep, filling her mouth with his blood. Morgan’s whole body trembled beneath her and he slowly sunk to the ground, still cradling her against him. Red rocked her hips, taking him deeper, while her tongue worked the tender flesh at his neck.

  Corded muscle bunched every time she sucked, but Morgan made no move to stop her. His eyes were closed and his jaw remained clenched as he teetered on the verge of release. Red had never felt more powerful in her life. She rose up onto her knees, then slowly glided back down.

  Morgan groaned, his hands curling into fists as he let her have her way.

  Red swiped her tongue over the bite mark, then began to fuck him in earnest. He didn’t touch her, but she could tell it pained him to do so. She rode Morgan steadily until they were both panting for relief. Red reached down between their bodies and stroked. Morgan’s eyes were open now, riveted on her fingers. His rib cage cracked as his body attempted to shift.

  Red smiled. It was the first time she’d ever seen him this out of control. She ground her hips into him, nearly sending her over the edge. Morgan cried out as claws sprang from his fingertips. His eyes changed to a deep gold and his fangs came out. He tongued them and growled. The sound hardened her nipples and Red felt the first ripple of release rush through her system.

  She squeezed him, refusing to orgasm without him. Morgan was so far gone that was all it took. He bellowed, his hands latching onto her hips without slicing her to pieces.

  Red arched, feeling him thrust wildly before emptying inside of her. Her hands moved to her breasts to tweak her nipples as she milked his cock. Morgan placed his hands over the top of hers, the claws now gone, and gently squeezed. Red shuddered.

  “I don’t think I can move,” he said, kissing her tenderly.

  “Try, the water’s getting cold,” Red said.

  They rose and rinsed, before shutting off the shower. Morgan grabbed the towels and began drying her.

  “I can do that myself,” she said.

  “I know.” He grinned. “But I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”

  Red brushed his scruffy face lovingly with her fingertips.

  He finished drying her, then handed her the clean clothes he’d found in one of the other lockers. They didn’t fit. The shirt was too tight and the pants were too loose, but they’d do until she could clean her others.

  “Now let’s go talk to our host,” Morgan said, getting dressed.

  They found Jonah waiting in a nearby room. He was staring at something that held wires and circuits. “I was about to send in the guards to get you two.” He snickered.

  Heat flooded Red’s face and she looked away before he could see. “I’d never seen a water shower before,” she said in way of explanation.

  “I doubt all that groaning and moaning was due to the shower,” he said, giving her a look that said she wasn’t fooling anyone. “Relax, I’m teasing.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked, changing the subject.

  He pointed to the flat board in front of him. “Trying to get this to work.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “A circuit board,” Morgan answered.

  Jonah glanced at him and raised a brow. “How did you know? Most people these days have never seen a circuit board outside of a museum.”

  Morgan looked uncomfortable for a moment. “You make do with what you have,” he said by way of an answer.

  Jonah’s gaze sharpened, but he didn’t persist. “I think this one is shot, unless you can get it working,” he said.

  Morgan stared at it. “I can take a crack at it,” he said. “Do you have a computer to attach it to?”

  “What’s a computer?” Red asked.

  “It’s like a compunit, but much, much more primitive,” Morgan said.

  Red stared at the equipment. Morgan had said they might be able to piece something together in order to contact the outside world, but now that she’d seen the circuit board, she was having doubts. Five years’ worth of rust covered the flat board, along with a layer or twelve of dust. It would take a miracle to get it working and Red was fresh out of believing in those.

  “My dear,” Jonah said. “Perhaps you can help me gather some vegetables for a meal.”

  Red looked at Morgan. She could tell by his expression and the tension in his taut frame that he didn’t want her to go, but she was of no use to him here. At least picking vegetables was something she could do. She hoped. Red had never actually picked anything that didn’t come out of a food dispensing machine.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, brushing a lock of dark hair from Morgan’s handsome face. “I’ll be fine.” Her gaze swung around, pinning Jonah where he stood. “Besides, if he tries anything, I’ll rip his heart out and eat it.”

  Jonah laughed, but Red didn’t. She kept her expression neutral and waited for him to squirm. Great host or not, she meant every word.

  chapter twenty-two

  R

  ed followed Jonah into the greenhouse. The room was hot and moist, a sensation she’d never experienced before. She was used to hot and dry, but the moisture was different. It clung to her skin, beading on her lip and forehead. Her clothes became weighted after a few minutes, clinging to her modest curves.

  “What is this called?” she asked, feeling the air with her fingertips.

  “Humidity,” Jonah said.

  “Is it always this sticky?”

  “Always,” he said, grinning. “The vegetables are over here. Once we gather some, we’ll head over to the fruit trees.”

  Red glanced around, trying to take the place in. The space was so large that it was impossible to see everything from one spot. The air was rich, almost as if it couldn’t be contained by the room. She’d seen pictures in the vids and read stories about the planet in its green years, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the sensory overload of this wild place. This place that was so foreign, yet oddly comforting.

  “How long did it take you to grow all this?” she asked, touching a leaf. It was smooth and moist, its fine “hairs” tickling her fingertips. She laughed in awe of what he’d created.

  “Years,” he said. “We lost a lot of crops at first, then we worked out the proper temperature and environment. After that, things took off rather quickly. Now come over here and help me pick carrots.”

  Red walked over to where he stood. The tufts of green stuck out of the ground every few inches. “I’ve read about carrots, tasted synth ones, but I’ve never seen a real one. What should I do?”

  “Follow my lead.” Jonah reached down and grabbed one of the green stalks at the base and pulled. An orange root appeared. He dusted off the extra dirt and shoved it into a basket crooked at his elbow.

  “This,” he said, pointing to the orange bit, “is a carrot.”

  “You eat the orange part?” she asked, eyeing it like it might bite. Didn’t look very appetizing. Synth-carrots were purple.

  “Yes.” He wiped off more dirt, then brought it up to his mouth and bit down.

  Red watched him. The root crunched as he chewed. Jonah smiled, flashing orange teeth, then swallowed.

  “Here,” he said, holding out the carrot. “Give it a try.”

  Red hesitated, then leaned forward and inhaled. It didn’t smell bad. Strange, but not bad. She stuck her tongue out and touched it. The texture was weird. Hard. Much harder than anything she’d ever eaten. She took a bite. The first taste was sweet, but it was quickly followed by a tang of bitterness. She chewed, allowing the root to crunch, then swallowed. She wasn’t totally convinced that real carrots were better than synth ones.

>   “What do you think?” Jonah asked expectantly.

  “Not bad.” Red analyzed the taste that remained in her mouth. “It would take some getting used to,” she said, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

  “They’re a lot better once they’ve been stir-fried. They soften up quite a bit and the bitterness goes away.”

  Red shook her head. The terms Jonah used were so foreign to her that she had no idea what he was talking about.

  Her confusion must’ve shown because he added. “Cut up and tossed in a pan over a fire. It’s one of the many ways we cook things out here.”

  No food dispensers or protein packs. Everything done by hand over a fire no less. It was almost too much to fathom. Could she live like this? Would she want to if given the choice? Red didn’t know. “Why are you helping us?” she asked. The question had been nagging her since they’d met.

  “You mean why help two fugitives?” he retorted.

  Her stomach clenched, twisting the carrot she’d just swallowed. “Yes,” Red said, wondering if she’d have to kill Jonah after all. If she did, who would tend the plants? She looked at the basket of carrots and frowned.

  “As a rule, I’ve never liked politicians and I don’t believe half of what I hear.”

  Red nodded. “Good policy, but there has to be more to it than that,” she said, unconvinced those were the only reasons for his assistance.

  His gaze grew distant. “I didn’t always live here, you know. I had a wife and family once upon a time. Back in the days when they used to hunt you down and force the chip into your neck. Not everyone took the time to do it right. A lot of people died during the implantation process. People were afraid to help.” Jonah shook his head to clear it. “I realize governing bodies are a necessary evil, but I don’t have to like them. Never believed in folks being chipped for their own good. Thought it violated the basic right to privacy. Still do, but I’m in the minority.”

  “Morgan feels the same,” Red said. Although he’d preferred to fight for changes on the inside before the trouble with Roark cropped up, instead of running away to live as an unknown. Red supposed these choices weren’t as black and white as she’d once thought. She inhaled, smelling only leaves and earth. Red could detect no deception on Jonah’s part. But she worried that the soil was fooling her senses. Or, maybe she was just seeing things clearly for the first time.

  Jonah’s eyes crinkled. “Smart man. I knew I liked Morgan. Now I know why,” he said with a wink.

  Morgan spent the next two days trying to piece together enough equipment to fashion a transmitter and receiver. It was difficult, given that most of the computers hadn’t been touched since the early twenty-first century. There was no telling whether it would work. And if by some miracle it did, Morgan could only think of one man who might be able to hear them. He wasn’t sure if Coleman Parker would listen after everything he’d done.

  The Eye of God, as Coleman liked to be called, had welcomed him on his first day of work at the Santa Fe Cloning Lab Corporation. He’d invited him out for drinks and dinner, which Morgan had happily accepted. He knew the man wanted more than friendship and he’d used Coleman’s attraction to get close enough to his electrical equipment to jam it.

  At the time, Morgan had thought he was doing so in order to retrieve the DNA of his wife, Sarah, and son, Joshua, who’d died during the last war. According to false bulletins, they were to be cloned for pleasure use and cheap labor.

  After the explosion at the lab that Roark Montgomery had arranged, Morgan realized that he’d been set up to take the fall. The politician had made sure he was spotted near the blast. Roark had arrived shortly after the bomb detonated and carted him off to the Taos Detention Center, while the Eye of God watched in disbelief.

  Morgan ran a hand over his freshly shaven face. It wouldn’t be long before the stubble returned. He sat back and stretched, trying to loosen the kinks in his back from being hunched over circuit boards.

  Gina had gone to sleep hours ago. He should’ve joined her, but he couldn’t keep his mind off the equipment. He’d put Gina through so much. She’d given up everything she’d ever worked for, and for what? To go on the run? Become a wanted criminal? To follow a man who abandoned her when she needed him most? Morgan vowed once again to be a better man. The kind of man Gina deserved.

  The only way he was going to be able to keep his word was if he got them out of this mess. His eyes lit on the diaries he’d found at Kane’s home when they’d been hiding out. Morgan had thrown them into his pack, but hadn’t listened to them yet.

  The thought of hearing Kane’s voice again was too painful to bear. He still had nightmares about killing his cousin and probably always would. Morgan hadn’t told Gina about the dreams because he hadn’t wanted to upset her. She had enough on her mind without tossing his guilt onto the pile.

  He looked around the area that used to house the command center. So many memories, so much destruction. And for what? A planet that was barely able to sustain life. How long before their luck ran out?

  The diaries were a constant reminder that life as he knew it was over. This may be his only chance to connect to the man he once loved like a brother. Morgan picked up the first digital diary and turned it over in his hands.

  He stopped spinning it and pressed play. A hiss erupted. It was followed by Kane’s deep baritone, discussing inconsequential things. At least at first. Morgan flushed and looked around to ensure he was still alone, as Kane had moved on to describing the last time they’d shared a woman. He fast-forwarded to see if there was anything else on the device, but it ended with Kane’s thoughts about the evening and ideas for future encounters. Sadness welled. Not for their past, but for the future they were denied.

  Even if his cousin hadn’t died, Morgan had moved beyond sharing women now that Gina was in his life. He dropped the recorder and picked up another. There were thirteen diary entries total. Morgan hoped they weren’t all like this one or he’d definitely have to go find Gina.

  Unfortunately, he got his wish. The next ten recordings were barely comprehensible rants about Morgan’s leadership or lack thereof and the need for a change. By the time he’d finished listening to the eleventh recording, Morgan’s chest hurt as if he’d done twelve rounds in a ring with a prizefighter. They’d been so close at one time.

  How could he have missed all the signs of his cousin’s unhappiness? Maybe Kane was right. Maybe it was time for new blood to lead Nuria.

  He glanced at the two remaining recordings and debated whether to listen or to just toss them in the trash. Morgan pushed them aside and went back to work on the transmitter. He got his first signal shortly after dawn. It was crackly and didn’t sound like much, but he hoped it would be enough. The Eye of God had powerful equipment at work and at home. He’d talked about being able to pick up signals around the world. Morgan prayed he hadn’t just been bragging to impress him.

  He soldered two more wires together and tried speaking into the jury-rigged device. Morgan waited and listened, hearing only pops and squeals. He put his mouth to the mic.

  “Eye of God, can you hear me?” he asked.

  Static answered with an angry hiss.

  “Coleman, I know you’re always listening to rogue communications. Please pick up. It’s Morgan.”

  More garbled signals came back, some so high pitched only his wolf could hear them. What had he expected? A welcome back? Glad to hear your voice? Oh, by the way, thanks for fucking up my equipment and making me look bad on the job?

  Morgan sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. It needed a cut. Maybe he’d take care of that before they left here. He’d been at it all night and for what? Static. Gina was still asleep. He decided to let her rest. No sense in waking her with the bad news.

  Morgan continued to listen to the high-pitched whirls for another hour, hope fading. He picked up one of the two remaining diary entries his cousin had made. This time when he pressed play a different voice appeared. Kane’s
rich baritone had been replaced. Whether from lack of sleep or disbelief, it took Morgan a moment to recognize the voice. When he did, he nearly fell out of his chair. He grabbed the device and hit replay. No, he wasn’t imagining it. The voice was Roark Montgomery’s. Why did Kane have a recording of the politician?

  Morgan listened carefully. He could hear the sound of the emergency care center in the background. Kane had been at work when he recorded this. It was the next words out of Roark’s mouth that nearly shattered Morgan’s composure.

  I want you to take care of Gina Santiago. Morgan jumped back to the beginning of the recording to make sure his exhausted mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, but the words were the same. This time Morgan let the recording continue, listening in horror as Roark ordered a hit on his beloved Gina and openly discussed the Others.

  “We have you now, you bastard,” Morgan muttered under his breath. He looked at the jumble of multicolored wires lying on the table in front of him. He picked up a few and started detangling them. If he could only get this blasted machine to transmit, they may just have found a way out of this mess. And their chance had come from the most unlikely source.

  Demery struggled to keep to his feet as he tumbled down the short ridge. Reaper had beaten him for hours after discovering Red and Morgan missing. It was only his promise to return Morgan to the asshole that had kept him and his blood woman alive. Even now, he could hear Melea’s screams tearing at his eardrums and see the tears streaming down her face as Reaper tied her facedown onto a battered old truck and sliced her clothes off with a wicked blade.

  His chest clenched in pain as the memories flooded his mind. Demery had thought for sure that Reaper was going to kill her. Perhaps he should have. It would’ve been kinder than what he’d put them through. Demery would never forgive Reaper. Never forgive Morgan for causing it or for forcing Red to leave. And he had no doubt that Morgan had been behind her leaving without him. Red wasn’t the type to leave a man behind.