by V M Black
His brow furrowed. “Five years for the longest.”
“Exactly. Five years,” she said. “That’s a really long time not to have your own place if you’re a family. Your own kitchen table. You might not put much stock in it, but kitchen tables matter.”
His eyes dropped to his tray. “We’ve had half a dozen kids born here, you know. Every year, it’s more, in fact. Some of them left the mountain to have their kids, but there are others who couldn’t or wouldn’t. And if the mothers are shifters, well, the best medical care in the world is probably here. I started to talk to Torrhanin about having some kind of official maternity ward.”
“You don’t have a facility anymore, Chay. You have a village here,” Tara said. “And soon it’s going to be a town. All underground. Dozens of kids who’ve never had a bedroom with a window.”
“Bedrooms with windows can be overrated,” Chay returned.
Tara knew only too well that he was referring to his own unhappy childhood. He’d been neither neglected nor abused, simply misunderstood by everyone around him, an alien to his brother and his four sisters, and an aberration to his parents and grandmother. He felt guilty about how unhappy his childhood had been, given that except for the occasional attempts at playground bullying, he had very little that was tangible to complain about. Especially compared to most kids who grew up in Detroit in the eighties.
His working-class neighborhood had been a few blocks from the rougher part of town, and the occasional gunshots they heard at night were almost always far away. He’d had two parents, the utilities had never been turned off, and unlike too many of the kids at his school, he’d never gone hungry because his mom burnt their food stamps on junk food and the rest of her money on booze.
But still he’d been dissatisfied to the point that he considered being scooped up by the FBI the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“It’s almost Thanksgiving,” Tara said quietly.
“I know.” Chay’s answer was clipped.
“Do you ever consider going back home? For the holidays, I mean,” she said.
“I send cards,” Chay said. “I send money.”
“That’s not the same,” she protested.
“I visit my grandmother,” he said. “At least once a year.”
Tara nodded. She knew. And she knew that family didn’t mean the same to him as it did to her. “To a lot of people, that kind of thing is really important. Like bedrooms with windows.”
He looked unsettled. She doubted that anyone had ever said as much to him. They were all so grateful for everything he had given them that they wouldn’t want to bother him with the things that they felt they were missing.
“Anyway,” she said lightly, “it’s something to think about. Since you’re making a town, however accidently, it’s something to think about. Fresh collard greens—and windows.”
He looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, and then he sighed. “Everything’s changing so quickly now. It’s like I can see us all hurtling toward some terrible end, and if I can just keep us secret, keep everything locked down tight enough, we’ll all be safe. I don’t think that’s enough anymore. Sometimes it seems like the more I want to do the right thing, the worse the unintended consequences end up being.”
Tara reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “It’ll be fine. Because you’re too damned stubborn for it to be not fine.”
Chay blew out a breath of air. “I certainly hope so.”
Just then, a woman came up to their table, her smile slightly too bright.
Tara returned her smile warily and pulled back, casually releasing Chay’s hand.
“Hi!” she chirped. “Just wanted to introduce myself. Beane’s not making the rounds with you, so I don’t know if you’re up for the usual Black Mesa welcome wagon, but I’m Jessie Farmer, and I’m the head of the social committee. We’ve got a monthly schedule of events—sports parties, some block-party-type stuff where we get the kitchen to make barbecue, singles nights, movie nights, that kind of thing. We’ve got a bowling alley, a pub, and a games room. It’s not very fancy, but you know, we’re always open to new ideas. If you want to help organize them, you know. We’re always looking for new members.”
Tara’s smile turned genuine, recognizing Jessie as a natural organizer and social butterfly. Her mother was the exact same type, as foreign as it was to Tara’s character. From experience, she also knew better than to say anything definite. If Tara gave the slightest opinion, she’d end up being responsible for movie night refreshments for the next six months.
“Thanks, Jessie,” she said. “That sounds like tons of fun. And I’ll think about the social committee.” About not joining it, ever, under any circumstances, she thought.
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you!” the woman said, beaming, then left.
Tara turned a slightly desperate glance toward Chay. “If you don’t get me out of here soon, she’s going to introduce me to all of her cronies, and I’m going to get stuck in charge of distributing a survey about the potential holiday party color schemes.”
Chay chuckled and stood from the table, picking up his tray. “You sound like you know her.”
“Know her?” Tara scoffed, extracting herself from between the table and bench. “I lived with her for eighteen years!” She grabbed her tray and led the way to the dish-return window, scraping the last bits of food into the trashcan before setting it on the moving belt that carried it deeper into the kitchen. A sudden, low boom echoed through the room, and Tara jumped.
“I didn’t do that, did I?” she asked, trying to peer through the tray-return window to see into the depths of the kitchen.
“Someone probably pulled off the broken oven door again,” Chay said. “I thought you wanted to get out of here.”
“Oh, I do, I do!” she assured him, stepping away.
Curious eyes followed them back to the double doors—all except for those of Jessie and her friends, who were deep in animated conversation. Planning Tara’s fate, no doubt. Tara pushed out into the corridor, feeling like she’d just engineered a brilliant escape, but for very different reasons than she’d thought that she would.
Normal reasons. Sane reasons.
She lifted her hand to the device behind her ear again.
“I want to go outside,” she said suddenly. “Can I do that? Before we see Torrhanin? I know you’re in a hurry, but just for a moment.”
He looked at his smart watch. “Looks like Torrhanin’s gotten my message. He hasn’t sent a reply, but he’s not exactly a chatty guy. He’ll let me know as soon as he has the other suppressors. And if he doesn’t in a few hours, we’ll drop in on him.”
“Awesome,” she said. She touched behind her ear again. “Everybody must already know about the suppressor. I don’t think the first few people we met did, but by the time we got to the cafeteria…people were acting different.”
Chay started down the hall, and she kept pace. “Since there’s a social communication system in place causes news to travel faster than a tweet, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“I don’t think they’d be half so happy to see me if it wasn’t for that,” she said. “They’d have to blame me for, well, you, like the first few seemed to.” Her look was meant to encompass all the changes that had come over him since he’d rescued her. “And they’d also resent me for surviving. If it wasn’t something that could be used to help other people, I mean. If almost everyone here knows someone who was lost or damaged because of the changes, they couldn’t help it. Even if they’re really nice people. It’s just the way that people work.”
He shook his head, looking bemused. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Tara said. “You’re more comfortable with computers than people. How many of those social nights do you go to?”
His brow furrowed. “None?” he ventured.
“Exactly,” she said.
“I don’t like crowds,” he said somewha
t stiffly.
He meant that the panther didn’t like crowds. “I know,” she said gently. “That aside, I don’t really think you’re much of the bowling night kind of guy.”
“I’m not a hermit,” he said defensively. “I do LAN parties sometimes with my team. Usually thrown-together kinds of things. And gaming over the Xbox and PlayStation networks.”
“Smaller groups,” she said. “Your real friends, not just acquaintances.”
“Yeah?” he said.
“Well, I’m the same way,” she said. “But I bet the people here would like it if you showed up sometimes. Smile and wave, that sort of thing.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And then get the hell out?”
“Of course. Can’t imagine putting up with it for more than a little while,” she agreed, grinning and feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time. Relaxed with him—and so ridiculously happy that she couldn’t think of a place she’d rather be. She’d have to deal with her parents soon—and the thought of it already made her queasy. But for now, she gave herself permission just to be.
“Aren’t we a happy pair of misanthropes?” Chay joked. Some of the vigor was already back in him, in the way he moved, and even his eyes looked less haunted to her.
“Made for each other,” Tara said without thought.
The look that Chay shot her in return was so intense that it nearly stopped her heart. But just then, they reached a door at a dead end, and he said lightly, “Outside,” and swung open the door.
Chapter Eleven
Tara pushed outside past Chay, and then she stopped stock still. Chay had to step around her, and when he did, he saw an expression of disappointment on her face that was so profound that it was comical.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying very hard not to smile.
“It’s nighttime,” she said. “I thought it would be day. And it’s cold.”
“It’s November, and we’re in the mountains. But it’s warm for that. It could be snowing.” He reached around her to close the door, shutting off the harsh florescent light and leaving her bathed in moonlight instead.
She hugged herself and tipped her head back, her eyes shining in the reflected light of the stars, taking two steps forward before she stopped. They were standing in a clearing near one of the many doors that led into the mountain, tall pines forming an arc as their needles created a soft, deep bed that hushed their footsteps.
Chay’s heart squeezed unexpectedly, so hard that it was almost difficult to breathe. She’d existed only in his mind and memory for nearly two months, and now here she was, standing in front of him. He reached out and pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen to brush her face. The movement revealed the suppressor, with its yellow jewels that caught the moonlight and seemed to blink at him.
Then, with no warning, she ran, laughter bubbling out of her and her arms thrown wide. As Chay watched, bemused, she made a wide circle around the edge of the clearing, nimbly avoiding the rocks that thrust out of the pine needles at sudden angles.
Tara reached him again, and she grabbed both his hands in hers.
“I’m free!” she said. “I really am free. It’s not in my head anymore. The woods were where I always felt it the most. It was almost peaceful then, but being out in the wilds, among the trees—that always made the panther feel stronger. It’s not there now, in my head. It’s not anywhere.” She tipped her head back again, swinging around on his arms like a child. “I’m all alone in my head!”
“You’re also shivering,” Chay pointed out.
“Don’t care,” she said through teeth that were beginning to chatter.
Chay pulled her to his chest, folding his arms around her. “I care,” he said. “I didn’t even think to get jackets. It’s been so long since I’ve been outside.”
She looked up at him from within the circle of his arms, her flesh already warming against his. “Because you stayed with me. You were always there, with me.”
“You remember?” he asked. He’d been so afraid that she’d been beyond that. He’d said things to her that he never would have said to the woman in his arms now. And he didn’t know whether that fact revealed his weakness then—or his weakness now.
She grew very still, her pupils so large they swallowed her green eyes. “I didn’t know it then. But after, when I came back—the panther remembered, and I have her memories now, on top of mine.”
“I couldn’t leave you,” he said, his throat suddenly too tight.
“Do you still feel like that?” she asked. “We’d barely met.”
He smiled. “I think we’d done more than meet.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s not what I mean. You hardly knew anything about me. You spent, what, thirty times longer with me as a panther than me as a human being? How can I possibly live up to whatever idea of me you’ve created in that time?”
He bent, silencing her mouth with a long kiss, and she kissed him back. Her mouth no longer moved with desperation against his. Instead, it was tender and curious and somehow deeply sad. The need that was never far buried when he was with her rose up again, throbbing to the beat of his heart and the movement of her body in his arms.
Finally, reluctantly, he broke away.
“You don’t have to live up to anything,” he said. “All you have to do is be you. And be here, with me.”
“This is crazy,” she whispered.
At that, he laughed. “I can promise you from my own observation that this is actually the sanest you’ve been in quite a while.”
She made a slightly outraged noise at that, and then she laughed, too, relaxing in his arms. She tilted her head back to look down her nose airily at him. “Kiss me again,” she demanded.
“Do you know where this is headed?” he asked her.
“Absolutely. I want to stay out here right now. And I also want you in here.” She wriggled her hips suggestively against him.
“I see you’re going for the subtle seduction,” he said.
“Definitely. Now, how about it?”
“It’s cold,” he reminded her.
“Already said I don’t care.”
“Bet you will,” he shot back.
“Only one way to find out.” Her hands were trapped between them by his arms, but she pushed up onto her tiptoes and managed to reach his chin to plant a tiny kiss there. “Or aren’t you up to it?” she challenged, lowering her thick fringe of lashes to hide her eyes.
“We’ll see about that,” Chay said, and catching the back of her neck, he took her mouth, utterly possessing it, stroking her with his tongue until she made an involuntary needy sound and began to grind her hips against his thigh. Her body melted into his, her legs giving way, and he boosted her up into his arms so that she straddled him.
She broke off the kiss. “Just practically speaking, I don’t see how this is going to work.”
He lowered his hand to where the crotch of her leggings was pulled tight against her body. “Are you really in that much of a hurry?” he asked, stroking her through the fabric.
“Mmm.” She shuddered at his touch, her face twisting in an expression that made him feel almost invincible. “Oh, I’d really like not to be,” she said, her voice high-pitched with strain as he continued to tease her. “But I think I lied a little bit about the cold.”
“Do you want to go back inside?” he asked.
“No!” she gasped. “And stop that.”
“Why?” he demanded.
“Because.…” Tara trailed off, her eyes going glassy as she panted in his arms. He could feel her heat and her dampness through the layers of fabric. She blinked hard and managed to rally. “Because I’m trying to talk!”
“You won’t be soon enough,” he promised. “Won’t even occur to you to say a word.” He dropped his head so that his lips were close to her ear. “Except my name.”
He set her down for the length of time that it took to get her out of her pants and shoes. She was shivering again, but
he’d warm her up with one good ride.
Chay loosened his pants before boosting her up—and maneuvering her right down over his rock-hard cock, which slid across her slickness to come to rest deep inside her. He could feel her clenching around him, and he gritted his teeth to keep from coming right then like a teenager during his first awkward tumble.
Her thighs were tight around his body, and she was attempting to move, but they were going to need something for leverage. He took three steps to the nearest tree, pushing her back against it, and kissed her again as he freed one hand to slide between them. She made inarticulate noises as he found her clit.
“That good?” he growled in her ear.
“And…dammit…cold,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Want me to stop?” The smell of her hair and the sweet skin of her neck were like a drug to his brain.
“Don’t you dare.”
Tara arched against the tree, into him, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. Then she came, and he almost followed instantly because she cried out his name again as if it were coming from the depths of her soul. But as she started to come down again, her vocalizations changed—“Ow, ow, oh, ow!”
He stopped, panting, even though it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I just sandpapered my ass on that tree,” she said. “And my hair’s all gummed up with sap.”
“Okay,” he said, still deep inside her. “Does that mean you want to stop?” His body told him, in no uncertain terms, that it would never forgive him for that.
“Just…change it around?” Her voice was apologetic.
He stepped away from the tree, and he lifted her off himself and slid her to the ground. His cock reacted to the cold air with outrage. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll just sit.…” She jumped up the second her rear touched the freezing ground. “Or maybe you could sit? Because you’re wearing pants, sort of?”
