by I. T. Lucas
Syssi realized she liked him, and not just for his amazing body and his beautiful face...
Blushing, she lowered her eyes. But then his silence compelled her to lift them back up, and her breath caught.
Kian was looking at her as if he was dying to kiss her. Except, it wasn't the predatory look from before. His eyes were soft and full of longing—a deep want that for some reason was shadowed by dark clouds of sorrow and regret.
Gazing into those sad blue eyes, she knew he wasn't going to do it.
On impulse, Syssi brought her palms up to his cheeks, touching them lightly with her fingertips. Kian closed his eyes and leaned into her caress. Bending his considerable frame to just the right height, he all but invited her to stretch up on her toes and kiss him.
Her kiss started soft, gentle, with their bodies barely touching. Kian held her almost reverently; one hand cradling the back of her head, the other around her waist.
It was nice, but not nearly enough. Underneath his reserve and his tenderness, Syssi sensed the wild beast he was holding back.
She wanted it unleashed.
Pressing herself closer to him and feeling the hard ridges and planes of his powerful body, she wanted more of him. With her hands streaking into his soft hair, she grasped fistfuls of it and pulled him closer, a soft moan escaping her throat.
It was all the encouragement he needed.
In a split second, Syssi found herself pressed against the wall, the hand at the back of her head fisting her hair, the other cupping her butt and lifting her to grind against his hardness. And as his tongue pushed past her lips—exploring and dueling with hers, retracting and invading in a blatant imitation of the act of sex—she felt her core bloom for him, flooding with wetness.
Now, that was a kiss! Syssi acknowledged with the few brain cells still functioning. Raw and intense, it ignited a burn that was about to burst into an all-out fire.
Touch me, she implored Kian silently, her breasts tight and heavy, craving his touch.
With her silent plea ignored, she resorted to rubbing herself against his chest, hoping the friction would provide some sort of relief. But all too soon he retracted, leaving her bereft.
Both palms cradling her cheeks, he touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. For a moment, they both panted breathlessly, waiting for their racing hearts to slow down. Then Kian lifted his head and looked into her eyes with that sad and resigned expression from before.
With the odd roll of her stomach portending that Kian was leaving and wasn't planning on ever coming back, Syssi's heart sunk to somewhere low in her gut.
She shut her eyes against the pain while Kian caressed her cheek with his thumb, waiting her out until she reluctantly opened her eyes to look at him.
An odd light shone in his dark blue eyes as he kept her mesmerized with that intense gaze. "Good night, sweet Syssi, you had a long day, and you're very tired, you need to get some sleep."
She was... so very tired...confused…
Shuffling her feet, Syssi barely made it to her bed before collapsing on it—fully clothed with her shoes still on.
CHAPTER 19: KIAN
Syssi was out for the night.
Standing next to the bed and watching her, Kian sighed and raked both hands through his hair.
The girl was proving difficult to resist.
She'd wanted him from the start, and even if he hadn't been able to scent her desire, it had been all over her expressive face—sweet and innocent in her shyness, still young and hopeful, so different from him.
He was old and soiled, disillusioned and disenchanted, the dark to her light. And as much as he craved her, he couldn't take what she so freely offered. The decent thing to do was to stay away and not corrupt that innocence with his taint.
Except, how could he?
When she had smiled at him, after his ridiculous bow, that radiant smile had transformed her from sweet and beautiful to spectacular, and he'd wanted to vow that he'd always make her smile like that. Even if it meant making a fool of himself, it would be well worth it just to hear her laugh and giggle, carefree and unreserved.
Gazing at her beautiful face, he wanted to stay. Not for sex, although he wanted that too, but to embrace her and hold her tightly, caress her hair and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. To amuse her, to make her happy.
Just one kiss, he'd thought just before she'd kissed him—she wouldn't remember it anyway.
He couldn't allow it.
Knowing he would be leaving soon and erasing himself from Syssi's memories—most likely never to see her again—had twisted a knot inside him, bringing on a sense of loss and resigned sadness.
But it was the right thing to do.
For Syssi's sake.
His thrall had buried and muddled her memory of the day's events, starting from the moment he'd entered the lab. All she'd remember tomorrow would be going home with a headache and collapsing on her bed. If at all, the memory of him might surface in her dreams, nothing more.
With a sigh, he removed her shoes and tucked the blanket around her, making sure her feet were covered.
And still, he couldn't make himself leave.
Looking down at her lovely face, he brushed a strand of hair away from her damp forehead.
What an inferno blazed beneath that shy, reserved exterior of hers. So much so that Kian could almost believe Syssi harbored some sweetly dark desires—the kind he would've been more than happy to fulfill.
He'd never find out, though, would he.
Was he foolishly stubborn, just as Amanda had accused?
Why was he fighting this so hard?
Was he truly doing the decent thing and being chivalrous?
Or was he being a coward, masking his fears in noble intentions?
What was he afraid of anyway?
Kian wished he had someone he could talk to. Someone to help him clear his head and sort through all these conflicting and confusing emotions. Except, there was no one he was comfortable enough with, or close enough to.
With one last brush of his fingertips against her smooth cheek, he headed for the door. And as he closed it quietly behind him, Tim Curry's Sloe Gin lyrics echoed in his head. 'I'm so fucking lonely’.
CHAPTER 20: ANDREW
As he stared at the report in his hands, Andrew's brows furrowed. Apparently, business was booming in Maldives, judging by the sudden increase in visitors from that country over the last couple of weeks.
Arriving within days of each other, three groups of businessmen from that tiny country had entered the United States through the Los Angeles International Airport.
What had alerted security, beyond Maldives being a god-forsaken bunch of insignificant islands with no industry to speak of, had been the fact that each group had had four young male members precisely.
Airport security had used this oddity as an excuse to forward the information to his department without the risk of being accused of profiling.
Looking at the security camera photos of the twelve bearded, heavily muscled, young men, Andrew grimaced. Businessmen. What kind of businessmen looked like that? None that he had ever met... Not that he had met that many.
Be that as it may, it was a shame that Airport Security needed an excuse to report characters that would've raised the suspicion of anyone with half a brain. In his opinion, outlawing profiling was a perfect example of political correctness gone too far.
Seventy-year-old grandmothers and five-year-old girls posed a very remote security risk, so did families with small children. By considering everyone an equal opportunity threat, Homeland Security was wasting its limited resources and increasing the risk of missing the real thing.
Like these boys.
He wondered what kind of trouble they were up to.
As he looked at their pictures, Andrew smirked. The bunch wouldn't have raised suspicion if Maldives was happening to compete in an international pro-wrestling tournament, and these impressive specimens were the team member
s. The men exuded health and vitality, the kind that came from strenuous physical activity, and their straight and sure postures were those of well-trained soldiers.
The men were all tall and seemed to be of several different ethnicities. They kind of reminded him of his Special Ops buddies and the way the motley bunch had looked coming back from a mission with their suntanned faces covered by several weeks’ worth of growth.
He needed to find out where they were staying and what they were doing. The report mentioned three different hotels the men had listed for their stay, and tomorrow he'd follow up on that info and see if they had ever checked in.
For tonight, though, he had other plans; a date with his sparring partner down at the gym, and if she was in the mood, a romp later on.
Susanna was another analyst in his department and one hell of a martial arts enthusiast. What had started as an easy camaraderie, had quickly turned into a 'friends with benefits' arrangement.
At first, he had been leery of taking their friendship to the next level. According to conventional wisdom, a workplace fling was a disaster waiting to happen. But it had worked out fine. Neither had any expectations or treated it as an exclusive arrangement. They were just scratching each other's itch.
Andrew couldn't allow for anything more and neither could she.
In their line of work, people didn't typically live long enough to get their happily-ever-afters.
CHAPTER 21: KIAN
Kian watched the mourners as they made their way into the clan's large council room, each stopping by Micah, her brother Otto, and their mother. The three were seated on the raised stage next to Mark's beautifully carved sarcophagus.
Wearing their traditional mourning robes made of brown jute, the clan members waited their turn to approach the small grieving family one by one, then kneel beside them, hugging or clasping their hands.
Nothing was said, as there were no words that could ease the pain of Mark’s immediate family. It was more about sharing their energy, their warmth, and their love with those who were in desperate need of it.
The overhead screens showed the other clan members in Scotland and Alaska arriving at their respective council rooms and taking their places for the ceremony.
Looking at the screens, Kian waited for Annani's and Sari's arrival, grateful for the marvel of modern technology that made it possible for the whole clan to participate, and for his mother to lead the dirge.
The goddess's voice would accompany Mark on his journey to the other side, honoring his memory with her song.
Once everyone was seated and the doors closed in all three chambers, Annani made her grand entrance. And though they all knew her and had seen her before, some still gasped and oohed before a respectful hush fell over them all.
The awe and reverence the clan felt for their matriarch was palpable.
She was small and slender, a mere inch or two over five feet, her delicate, otherworldly beauty misleadingly youthful. But there was no mistaking the awesome presence. Fiery red hair cascaded in thick waves over her shoulders all the way down to her hips, and every bit of her exposed skin radiated with white luminescence. Her big green eyes, so old and so wise, shone tonight with an inner light that was bright enough to illuminate an auditorium and inspire reverence.
Raising her glowing arms, Annani pulled the brown hood of her mourning robe over her head, then tucked her hands inside the robe's sleeves, effectively cutting off her luminescence in a show of respect for the dead.
Lowering her head, she began the lament.
Her voice was angelic, pure and strong. It resonated inside the hearts and souls of her audience, touching their sadness and tugging at its strings. As a chorus of voices joined her, the lament was magnified by the hundreds of voices coming from the sea of brown robes swaying to the mournful sounds.
When it was done, those present formed a procession behind the hovering sarcophagus and accompanied Mark on his last journey to his resting place in the catacombs. Upon their return, and when the last of the mourners left, Kian removed his robe and took the elevator up to his penthouse.
Tired and drained, he was nonetheless too wired to go to bed. Instead, he poured himself a drink and took it outside to the terrace. Getting comfortable on a lounger, he pulled out a cigarette from the pack he had left there, lit it, and inhaled gratefully.
As he watched the smoke curl up and dissipate into the dark sky, his thoughts wandered to Syssi. Her innocent, hopeful expression when he had first seen her face emerge from behind the curtain of her wild hair. The way her body had felt tucked against his when she'd slept in the car, her cheek resting on his chest. That kiss... After spending such a short time with Syssi, her absence already felt like something vital was missing from his life, and he had an inkling that he could never go back to the numb state of existence he had been living in for so long.
Except, what choice did he have? He had to stay away and somehow forget her. Unfortunately, there was no way for him to thrall away his own memories.
With a sigh, he took another drag from his cigarette and wondered if she was still sleeping and if she was, was she dreaming about him?
As memories could never be truly erased, just pushed below the barrier separating the conscious mind from the unconscious, she might remember him in her dreams. Or maybe conjure him in her fantasies. He hoped she would.
He'd be thinking and dreaming about her. Of that, he was certain.
CHAPTER 22: SYSSI
The nightmare was back.
Terrified, Syssi was running away from a pack of snarling wolves. With the moon hidden behind dark clouds and the dense canopy of tall trees, the barely visible trail was illuminated only by a darting, small speck of light. Following it, Syssi prayed she wouldn't stumble and fall as she ran on and on.
All alone in the foreboding darkness, with the huge monsters' red glowing eyes and sharp fangs never far behind, she was defenseless.
Soon, she wouldn't be able to run anymore, and they'd get her. Rip her apart.
With desperate tears streaming down her cheeks, Syssi kept running.
Why are they chasing me? How did I get here?
A little further ahead, she saw something that gave her a glimmer of hope. Hidden under the dark shadows cast by the thick limbs of a tree, was what looked like a silhouette of a tall man.
"Help me!" Syssi called to him.
There was no response.
Was her mind playing tricks on her? Desperately searching for a pattern in what was nothing more than rocks and bushes loosely resembling a human form?
But what choice did she have?
It was either finding help or dying.
She had nothing to lose by changing direction and running toward what she saw. If there was nothing there, she would just keep on running. Until she could run no more...
"Help!" she yelled again as she got closer and realized that the man wasn't a figment of her imagination. But he ignored her, his gaze fixed on the pursuing red eyes.
"Help me! Damn you!" Syssi shook his arm, forcing him to look at her.
Finally he turned, shifting his intense eyes to her. "No need to yell, Syssi. Get behind me. I'm going to scare them off." He turned back to look at the rapidly approaching wolves.
How did he know her name? Did she know him? She would've remembered someone like him. The man was stunningly beautiful.
Never mind. He was going to help her.
Hiding behind his large frame, she watched the wolves burst out of the tree line and circle them, snarling; their horrid yellow fangs dripping with fetid saliva.
The man raised his hands and snarled back at the wolves, exposing a pair of huge, acid-dripping fangs.
Acid? Oh, right, the dirt sizzled where drops of it fell.
"Yeah!" she cheered him on. "Show them your fangs! Scare the monsters away!"
The wolves began backing away with their tails curled under their bellies, still snarling and drooling at her rescuer as they made their retreat.
"Run! You mangy cowardly dogs! Not so brave now, are you?" she taunted the wolves from her safe spot behind the guy's back.
The wolves turned and ran into the thicket, leaving her alone with the stranger.
"Thank you, I don't want to think what would've happened if you weren't here to help me." Syssi smiled at him in gratitude.
"You should keep on running, Syssi. There is a reason the wolves fear me, I’m a monster too." He flashed his fangs, trying to scare her off. "Why aren't you running?" he asked when she didn't budge.
"How can you say that? You've just saved my life. You're not a monster. You're a hero!" Syssi stretched up on her toes and kissed him on the lips.
"Are you crazy? What are you doing? You'll get burned by the acid!" The man vigorously wiped at her lips with his thumb.
"Your acid is harmful only to the demon wolves. It tastes good to me." She licked her lips and smiled, coyly inviting another kiss.
"You have no idea what you're asking for. Do you want these fangs piercing the skin of your neck? Do you want me to bite you?" he growled, looking at her menacingly and flashing his sharp fangs again.
"Will it hurt?" Syssi asked in a small voice.
"Yes, it will. But it might also bring you intense pleasure. Do you feel adventurous?" He dipped his head and brought his lips to the base of her neck. Not touching. Threatening.
"Then I want you to," Syssi whispered, brushing her hair away to give him better access. And yet, she closed her eyes as her heart began beating faster; her excitement tinged by fear.
"Why?" he whispered in her ear, brushing his lips lightly against her neck.
"Because I want you to make love to me," Syssi blurted throatily, shocking herself.
Hey, it was her dream...
Yes, she realized—this was only a dream.
Good. Inside her own head, she could be as brazen as she wanted to.
