by Aaron Hodges
“Yes, stay,” Daniella said, seeming to have recovered from her earlier dismay. She stood in the doorway to what looked like the kitchen, arms crossed.
Glancing at the others, Liz hesitated. She knew they should leave, that there were soldiers out hunting for them, and a price on their heads. Staying meant risking the lives of Danny and Daniella, or the possibility of the two realizing they were fugitives. But at the thought of refusing, the aching of her body returned. She looked around the room, seeing the exhaustion on the faces of her friends. Just the idea of returning to the streets, to the darkness and the danger, was unthinkable.
And the thought of a hot shower was all but irresistible.
13
Liz closed her eyes as the hot water rained down over her face. Heat engulfed her head, muffling the distant sounds she could hear from the neighboring apartments. The water filled her nose as well, washing away the stench of her body. The loss of sensation came as a relief, and she realized then the strain the constant barrage to her senses had become.
She shivered, wondering how long she could stand it, whether the human mind was designed for so much input. Or would the sensory overload one day become too much, the barrage of sights and smells and sounds overwhelming? What would become of her then?
Sucking in a breath through the running water, Liz pushed the thought away.
Live in the moment, she thought to herself.
She smiled, savoring the sensation of hot water on her skin. It ran down her head and through her long hair, dripped from her shoulders, down to her matted feathers. How long had it been since her last hot shower? Certainly not in the facility, where they had been lucky if the guards remembered to feed them, let alone take them to be hosed down. Nor while she’d been on the run. There’d been no chance of that, not while she’d been moving from village to village, never knowing when her next meal might come, let alone a bath.
No, it had been at the boarding school her parents had sent her to. Much as she’d hated the place, hated being the only rural girl amidst the ranks of rich city kids, she could not deny the place had its luxuries. Though her parents’ ranch had had hot water, it was heated by the fireplace, so was only available in the winter. And then only if you were one of the first to rise in the mornings.
Which as a teenager, meant there’d been as much of a chance of Liz getting a hot shower as there was of her winning the lottery.
Rubbing her hands over her arms, Liz watched the dead skin flake away. Blood and dirt dripped to the tiled floor and swirled in the gathering water, before finally disappearing down the drain. Liz watched it go, strangely entranced. She found herself wishing she could wash away the darkness inside her the same way, that she could turn back the clock to before all this happened.
She jumped as someone knocked on the door and a voice called out. “Liz?”
Liz smiled as she recognized Chris’s hesitant tone. Silently she slipped from the shower and moved across the bathroom, her wings clenched tightly against her back to keep them from dripping. Standing behind the door, she pulled it open, reached out into the corridor, and pulled Chris inside.
His eyes widened as he saw her standing there naked, her hair and skin wet from the shower, her wings slowly spreading out behind her. She laughed as his cheeks reddened, secretly pleased at the effect she had on him. Though he still wore his filthy clothes, she stepped in close, until their faces were just an inch apart. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pulled him into a kiss, taking care not to bump his injured arm.
Their lips met and she felt him stiffen against her. Then he was kissing her back, his tongue slipping between her lips. She moaned as his good hand slid up to her breast. Biting his lip, she began to undress him, tugging him towards the shower as she did so. Before they went any further, she wanted him clean.
Dragging Chris beneath the hot water, she wrapped her arms around his waist, her heart racing as his chest slid against her. Her skin tingled as his good hand slid up her back, to where her wings stretched out behind her. They brushed against her feathers, sending ripples of pleasure down the length of the alien limbs. His fingers continued up, tangling in her hair, pulling her lips to his, and then he was kissing her hard, pushing her back against the wall of the shower.
Giggling, Liz slid sideways away from him. She snatched up the soap and tossed it to Chris. “Clean first. Before you get that wound dirty again. We’ll bandage it up afterwards.”
Chris laughed, his eyes burning, but with a wry smile he obeyed. She watched the dirt and blood run from him with the same curiosity she’d felt before. Even now, amidst the heat of their passion, she could sense the pain radiating from Chris. He had been so reckless since the news report, as though he no longer cared whether he lived or died. Boarding the bus, walking through the dangerous neighborhoods of San Francisco…it was all so different from the Chris she knew. The Chris she knew would fight to the death for the ones he loved, but he would never think of putting them in danger.
Thankfully, he seemed more himself now, more like the Chris that had survived and escaped the facility alongside her. The pain still shone from his eyes, a sharp, more recent reflection of her own, but it seemed contained now, under control. Silently, Liz prayed that was true.
Chris gave a low growl as he scrubbed the last patch of dirt from his skin and tossed the soap aside. He looked at her, his eyes feral as he drank her in. Liz smiled, basking in his gaze as she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” She put her arms on her hips. “I’m all yours…”
Eyes dancing, Chris pulled her to him. She gasped as he pushed her up against the shower wall, his muscular body hot against hers. Their wings spread, and a tremor shook Liz as their feathers entwined. Then Chris’s lips were on her neck, biting and licking, and the breath went from her in a rush.
Heat flushed through her abdomen as he moved lower, his tongue circling her breast, drawing closer to her nipple with each pass. Growling in frustration, Liz entwined her fingers in Chris’s hair and pulled him to her. She gasped as his teeth nibbled at her nipple, his tongue flicking out to taste her. Her desire took light as Chris’s attention moved to her other breast, but it was no longer enough.
Tightening her grip in his hair, she pushed him down, betraying her eagerness with a moan. The soft whisper of Chris’s laughter came from below, but he obeyed. He kissed his way down her abdomen, his every movement adding fuel to the flame burning within her.
Liz was trembling by the time his tongue found her. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Breath hissed from her throat as she struggled to breathe, her back arching with each stroke of his tongue. Her fingers were so tight in Chris’s hair now, she was surprised he did not cry out. Instead, his good hand found its way to her ass, pulling her tight against him, leaving no escape.
Not that she would want to.
Slowly the pressure within her built, the flames of her ecstasy fed with every kiss. Her wings spread behind her, her feathers shaking along with every tremor that swept through her body. Water rained down around them and the air was heavy with steam, but Liz hardly noticed. Her every sense, every thought was focused on Chris, on the roughness of his tongue, the feel of his hand around her.
She came in a sudden rush, the pressure inside suddenly crashing through the gates of her self-control, her body giving way to the throes of ecstasy. Unable to help herself, Liz cried out, her whole body aflame as she gripped desperately at the shower walls.
Then Chris was standing again. Her lips found his as she drew him into a kiss, their tongues dancing, though she was still struggling to breathe. His body leaned in against her, pressing her back against the wall, and she realized his hand was still around her waist. A gasp escaped her as his grip tightened, his one hand lifting her slightly.
Their lips broke apart, and she found herself looking into his hazel eyes. Amongst the pain and hurt, she saw the desire lurking there, the need. She reached up to stro
ke his hair, a smile on her lips, then lowered her hands to his hips, drawing him to her.
Liz gasped as he entered her. Quickly, she wrapped her legs around his waist. The last tingles of her orgasm were still fading, but her need had not lessened, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight as he began to move inside her.
The fire within reignited as Liz moved her hips with his body, her lips on his neck, her fingers like claws in his back. She cried out again, no longer unable to resist, to control her body’s reactions. Every inch of her was aflame, joined as one with the man she held in her arms.
Chris was groaning too, his eyes wild, his breath hot in her ear. Pressed against the wall, wet hair fell across Liz’s face as she tried to breathe, to regain some of her senses. But with Chris within her, with his arms around her, his body pressed against her, it was all she could do to keep her head above the surface.
Finally, Chris began to slow, his breath coming in hard, ragged gasps. Liz grinned as he brushed the hair from her face. His eyes danced as he cupped her cheek, and her heart swelled as he leaned in to kiss her.
He’d grown still now, but the flames still burned in Liz, and she began to rock her hips again. Chris groaned, his body stiffening around her, but it was her turn now, and she would show him no mercy. Her hips moved faster, her fingers digging harder into his back as she felt the pressure building within once more. A sharp cry tore from her, but beneath her Chris was silent, hardly breathing, as though he had suddenly turned to glass and might shatter at any moment.
With a cry, he broke. His hips thrust forward to meet hers, and Liz felt her own well breaking, the heat sweeping outwards, sending her body into convulsions. Their arms locked around one another and between gasps their lips met.
Finally, as the tremors slowed, Liz unwrapped her legs from around Chris’s waist and lowered herself to the floor. Her knees shook as they took her weight, and she would have fallen if she hadn’t thrown out a hand against the wall for support. Panting hard, she stepped from the shower. Warmth spread through her stomach, seeping outwards to fill her, lighting every nerve in her body afire.
She smiled as Chris followed her out, his fingers sketching a trail through her waterlogged feathers. Closing her eyes, Liz trembled at his touch, still surprised by the sensitivity of their new limbs. Idly she wondered if Daniella or Danny had noticed the lumps beneath their jackets. She supposed they hadn’t—otherwise who knew what they would have done?
Pulling two towels from the rack, she handed one to Chris before drying herself. Watching Chris from the corner of her eye, she smiled as he struggled to dry himself with one hand. She was surprised how little his injury had slowed him. In fact, the bleeding already seemed to have stopped. Even so, she knew from working with animals on the farm that it should be stitched. Unfortunately, hospital grade stitching did not come in your standard first-aid kit. Still, at least his wound was now clean and dry, and they could bandage it when they returned to the living room.
While drying themselves, they spread out their wings, basking them in the overhead heating lamp. Their feathers stood on end, and every so often a tremor would go through them, spraying water across the room.
Afterwards, they pulled on the clean clothes Danny had given them. Her husband was apparently away on business—he was a translator of some sort—and she’d suggested it was a good opportunity to get rid of his old clothes. Looking at the fine shirts, Liz lamented the need to tear holes in the back to fit their wings.
Once dressed, Liz eyed her old jacket with distaste. Her wings were enjoying their freedom—they quickly grew cramped under the jacket. And now that she was clean, she could smell the reek of sweat and mildew coming from the heavy denim. But unless they wanted to terrify their friendly hosts, there was little choice. Reluctantly, they pulled on the jackets and slid out the door.
Warmth touched Liz’s cheeks as she found Jasmine, Richard and Mira waiting in the hallway. Her mouth dropped open and she glared at Chris. “You didn’t mention they were outside!”
Chris’s cheeks were beet-red, but Jasmine cut in before he could respond. “It got a little awkward in the living room,” she said, her face deadpan. She glanced at the others and shrugged. “Guess I’m next.”
She disappeared into the bathroom before Richard or Mira could argue.
14
Her cheeks still flushed, Liz watched Jasmine disappear into the bathroom and then turned to the others. Richard bowed his head and tucked his hands into his pockets, a frown on his lips.
In a rush of empathy for his situation, Liz reached out and squeezed his arm. Richard looked up at her, his eyes shimmering in the glow of the single lightbulb. No words passed between them, but after a moment he nodded and looked away.
Liz took Chris’s hand and led him back into the living room. She frowned at Jasmine and the others’ lack of courtesy—and foresight. Someone should have stayed with Daniella and her mother, if only to keep them safe. As they moved down the corridor, she heard raised voices, and recognized the faint whine of a television. The floorboards squeaked beneath their feet, announcing their approach, and the voices suddenly broke off.
The door clicked as Liz pushed it open and stepped into the living room. She’d been too exhausted to take in the space earlier, but now her eyes passed slowly over the room. The apartment was plain and in places the paint was flaking from the walls, but it still contained far more wealth than her parents could ever have hoped for. Steel bolts held the front door closed, while to their left another door opened into the kitchen. On their right was a dining table, and beyond, the white couch and television. Behind the television, a broad window looked out over the city, at the distant skyscrapers and steep hills of San Francisco.
To Liz’s surprise, the television screen was black, though she was sure she’d heard it a moment earlier. Daniella sat on the couch, but her mother was standing, already starting towards them.
“How was your shower?” Danny smiled.
Liz’s ears twitched at her tone. Was her voice slightly higher than before? She closed her eyes, weariness settling around her shoulders like a cloak. Forcing a smile, she nodded at Danny, dismissing her worries.
“Wonderful, thank you,” Chris said. He was smiling, apparently at ease. “Just what we needed after that bus ride.”
Danny nodded absently as Daniella lifted herself from the couch. Reaching out, she tugged at the sleeve of Chris’s jacket. “You’re still wearing your jacket. Wasn’t what I picked for you…more comfortable?”
“Leave him alone, Daniella,” Danny said sharply. Liz’s head jerked up as the woman strode across and pulled Daniella away. “They can wear what they want.”
Daniella scowled, pulling herself free of her mother’s grip. “They don’t have to.”
Danny folded her arms and stared down at her daughter. The girl held her ground, until with a grunt, she turned and pushed past Liz, disappearing down the hallway. Shaking her head, Danny offered them a weary smile. “Would you like some coffee, dears?”
Exhausted as she was, Liz wanted nothing more than to sleep. Coffee was the last thing she needed. But the woman was already moving away, muttering about brewing a pot as she disappeared into the kitchen. Liz glanced at Chris, but he only shook his head. She noticed his face was pale, and taking his arm, she sat with him on the couch.
Liz picked up the first aid kit. She carefully rolled up Chris’s sleeve and applied a fresh layer of antibacterial cream to his wound. She was surprised by how healed it was already looking. She’d been right earlier—the bleeding had stopped, and was it her imagination, or did it look smaller? She dismissed the thought as absurd and started applying a bandage.
Jasmine reappeared as Liz was finishing up. Her skin was red from scrubbing and her black hair hung damp around her face, but she looked cleaner than Liz had ever seen her. She still wore the old jacket from earlier. Liz wriggled on the couch, reminded of the water slowly dripping from her feathers down her back.
She smiled as Jasmine approached. “Good shower?”
Jasmine smiled back, her face relaxed. “I could barely bring myself to get out. Where’s Daniella and her mother?”
“Daniella’s down the hall somewhere,” Liz replied. “Her mother is making coffee.”
Jasmine wrinkled her nose. “I hope it’s decaf. Who’s taking first watch?”
“I think Richard still owes us one there,” Liz replied softly.
She watched Jasmine’s face darken, but Liz had decided the feud between the two had gone on long enough. Richard had made a mistake; he would have to live with it. But if they were to survive, the five of them needed to get along.
“You have to forgive him eventually, you know,” she whispered.
Jasmine looked up at that. Her eyes softened for a second, before her jaw clamped tight. “Do I?” she growled. “And why is that?”
Liz didn’t back down. “Because he’s family.”
“I…” Jasmine closed her eyes suddenly, her shoulders slumping. She dropped to the couch beside them and drew her knees up to her chest. “They almost caught us. Because of him.”
“I know,” Liz said, shrugging, “but in the end, we’re just kids, Jasmine. We’re not soldiers, we’re not trained for this, whatever mutations they managed to cram into our DNA.”
Jasmine lowered her gaze but did not respond. Liz smiled, hoping she might have at least made a crack in the girl’s defenses. Leaning into the crook of Chris’s good arm, she closed her eyes. It felt good, basking in his warmth, and she could feel sleep beckoning as they waited for Richard and Mira to return.
Mira appeared from the shower next. She moved silently across the room and quickly climbed onto Jasmine’s lap. Liz smiled inwardly as Jasmine rolled her eyes. She was beginning to suspect that Jasmine enjoyed Mira’s affections more than she let on. Eventually Richard emerged too, still drying his hair with a towel.
