Titus

by Carly Fall

  Neither answered, and Titus noticed ash on the female’s white shirt. Colonists always shed ash when they were about to kill, and his stomach rolled.

  “Let her go, Daniel,” he said, surprised by the calm in his voice. “She has nothing to do with this.”

  “She does now.”

  “No!” Jovan shouted, lunging at Daniel just before he slammed the knife in the woman’s gut and ran.

  She crumpled to the ground with a terrified scream and Jovan went to her. Titus picked up his gun, trying to decide whether to chase Daniel or help the female.

  “I’ll go after him,” Jovan muttered, getting his own gun and making the choice for him. “Call an ambulance, but be gone by the time they get here.”

  Titus nodded and bent down next to her. She looked up at him, the fear on her face so pronounced, it made him cringe.

  “You’re going to be okay.”

  Groaning, she closed her eyes and curled up in a fetal position.

  Titus removed his jacket, then pulled off his t-shirt. He could see the blood pooling on the pavement below her.

  “We need to put pressure on it.”

  He pulled her hand away, balled up his t-shirt and placed it on the wound, then laid her hand back over it.

  “Stay like that while I call an ambulance.”

  After dialing, he gave the operator the cross streets and said he’d found a woman bleeding in the alley. He hung up and put on his jacket, then placed the phone in the pocket.

  Sweat dripped down face as he pressed his hand into the woman’s abdomen.

  Jovan must have read Daniel’s thoughts—it was the only way he could have reacted so quickly. And why didn’t he want Titus chasing after Daniel? Probably because the woman’s emotions ran so high—fear, excruciating pain, uncertainty. Although Jovan could block out others’ feelings, Titus had heard through the grapevine he still found it difficult to do. Jovan had also said it also ate up his energy.

  “What’s your name?” he asked the woman, hearing the sirens in the far distance.

  “Mary.”

  “You’re going to be fine, Mary.”

  He didn’t know that, but he had to reassure her.

  “It hurts,” she whispered.

  “I know.”

  He squeezed her arm, and noticed her skin paling. Her eyes remained closed.

  “Stay with me, Mary.”

  She barely nodded.

  A few moments later, the sirens seemed to be about two blocks away. If he were to make it out of the scene, he needed to leave now. However, he hated leaving her on the pavement next to the garbage cans. It seemed so wrong on so many levels, and he hated Daniel and every other Colonist and offspring to whom they’d passed on their horrible genes.

  Mary didn’t deserve this.

  From the looks of her, she was in her late twenties or early thirties and had a lifetime ahead of her. Instead, she’d simply taken out the garbage and been sucked into his world. It all seemed so unfair.

  “May the Gods of Health bring you their blessings tonight,” he whispered.

  Standing, he took one last look at her. He couldn’t stay another second, no matter how badly he wanted to. Instead, he ran down the alley in the opposite direction.

  An hour later, he finally caught up with Jovan in their designated meeting spot—a small diner in their grid. He’d just ordered pancakes and eggs when the male walked in and sat down across from him in the bright purple booth.

  “Did you catch him?”

  “No.”

  “Fuck. What happened?”

  Jovan looked at the waitress behind the counter. “Can I get some coffee, eggs, sunny side up, two sides of bacon, and a side of sausage?”

  She nodded and went in back to put the order in.

  Jovan then turned his gaze on him, his eyes bloodshot from the contacts he wore.

  “I ran him down for blocks. The fucking coward found someone else to hide behind. But that time, we were close to the Black Cuff, and I knew things would only get worse.”

  “And?”

  “He said if I quit chasing him, he’d quit killing people … for the night.”

  “Sweet Jesus, Jovan.”

  “I know. I told him I would stop.”

  “And?”

  “And he slit her throat.”

  Titus sat back in his chair as Jovan stared at the table.

  “I’m so tired of this war, Titus. I’ve been dealing with this shit for over two hundred years. How do you even begin to understand someone like that? How do you try to reason with them when civilians are involved?”

  Titus shut his eyes for a moment, then looked at Jovan. “I don’t think you can.”

  Jovan met his gaze, his face hard. “Exactly. We’re caught in such a fuck-all spot. We want to save the humans; yet, when we do chase a Colonist down, they escalate. Did either female live tonight? I don’t fucking know. What I do know is that I’m tired of this shit. I’m done watching people die.”

  Titus understood his frustration. He’d only had a small taste of the Colonist activity on Earth, and his annoyance boiled. After two hundred years? He couldn’t imagine what scars would be left on one’s psyche. A wave of defeat rolled through him as his thoughts turned back to poor Mary in the alley. It had simply been a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. If she’d waited a mere two minutes to take out the garbage, she’d be tucked back inside her apartment, maybe having a glass of wine and watching television, or eating a bowl of popcorn while talking on the phone. She’d be alive, and hopefully enjoying her life. Their paths never would have crossed.

  But, as he had quickly learned, that was the way of life. Small, simple decisions could have a catastrophic effect on one’s existence. He could almost guarantee that Mary hadn’t thought about being stabbed before stepping out to dump the trash.

  He said nothing to Jovan—no words of solace or encouragement, because he also felt defeated and frankly, the situation seemed completely hopeless.

  They sat in silence for a few moments, his heart heavy. He wondered if Mary had lived. There must be away for Blake to hack into the hospital computers and find out. Hell, he connected to the back end of almost every database, including a fantasy football league, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble.

  When the waitress served their meals, the quiet between them stretched on. Halfway through, Jovan’s phone rang.

  “Yeah?”

  Titus wondered who had called, and hoped their night hadn’t been such a bloodbath.

  “Hey. How’re things?”

  Jovan listened as he ate. “So, basically, you had a quiet night.”

  Titus could hear the low hum of the caller, but couldn’t make a distinction on the voice.

  “Yeah, well I have two words for you, Rayner: fuck you. Our night sucked big, fat donkey balls, and I’m not doing anymore running or walking. We’re at the diner. Come and get us.”

  Jovan tossed the phone on the table and downed the rest of his coffee. The waitress appeared immediately and refilled it. As Titus ate the last bite of toast, an SUV pulled up outside and Rayner motioned them to come out.

  Jovan flipped him the bird, and turned his attention to his two sides of bacon.

  Considering Rayner’s love of bacon, Titus figured he would understand the delay.

  Chapter 27

  Macy flipped through the television channels trying to find something to watch. It hadn’t been a good idea to sleep so long throughout the day and then have tea, because now at three in the morning, she felt wide awake.

  Cohen and Beverly had promised that if they needed her help as Healer, or even as an assistant, they would contact her. She leaned over and picked up her house phone just to make sure it worked. Nothing but dial tone. She also checked her cell phone again. No messages or texts.

  Turning her attention back to the television, she half-listened to the commercial about knives that could cut through anything. She questioned the believability of the ad when one
blade sawed through a piece of wood like it was butter.

  “Like I’m going to fall for that,” she muttered, and turned off the television.

  All night, she’d tried to distract herself from her worries about Titus being out on patrol. She thought about calling him, but Noah had made it very clear that no one should call those on duty as it would only serve as a distraction, and if the call came in at just the right time, it could be dangerous for the Warriors. It could give away a hiding place or take their mind off someone with a weapon, making the situation deadly.

  She sighed again and slipped down under the sheets. Perhaps she should just turn off the television and close her eyes. Sleep would come, eventually.

  A soft tap on her door startled her, and she jumped out of bed, her heart pounding. Had the Warriors come home and they needed her for medical reasons?

  She opened the door, and Titus stood before her still dressed in his jeans, jacket, and boots. His shirt was gone, and deep circles ringed his eyes.

  “Titus! Come in!”

  He nodded and stepped into her quarters.

  She shut the door and turned to him. “Are you alright? Do you need a healing?”

  He shook his head and slipped off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. She gasped at the smudges of crimson on his arms.

  “Titus! Whose blood is that?”

  His voice came out in a whisper. “Her name was Mary. I can’t talk about it right now.”

  She saw the desperation in his face, as if he begged her to not question him further. However, he obviously looked for comfort or he would have gone to his own quarters.

  “Come,” she said, taking his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then you can rest.”

  When Titus arrived back at the silo, a surge of loneliness had stabbed at him, and the thought of being by himself had only made him want comfort and contact with another.

  As he’d watched the Warriors head to their perspective quarters, most going to their mates, he’d known he couldn’t be alone. While knocking on Macy’s door, he’d hoped she didn’t sleep and that she’d let him in even though he felt exhausted and demoralized by his life and the night’s events.

  As she took his hand and led him to the white marble bathroom, he hated that she had to see Mary’s blood still caked on his arms. He’d washed his hands at the diner, but frankly, the sight of it had surprised him as it had been hidden under his jacket.

  She turned on the shower, then gazed at him, the water beating against the marble drowning out all sounds and providing white noise. Going to her knees, she untied his boot as he leaned against the counter, then slipped it off. She did the same with his other boot, his socks, and his jeans, until he stood before her naked.

  Reaching up, she worked the band out of his hair so that it fell around his shoulders. Then, she slipped her nightshirt over her head, took his hand again, and led him into the large walk-in shower, which could easily fit four people.

  He closed his eyes as he stood under the hot spray, feeling Macy’s breath on his chest. As he tilted his head back, the water soaked his hair.

  Macy moved behind him, her fingers threading through the strands. He heard the pop of the shampoo bottle being opened, and the smell reminded him of fresh, clean spring air. She massaged his skull as she worked the bubbles through, and his body relaxed with her touch. The sound of the water echoing against the marble helped to drown out his thoughts and emotions, leaving him planted firmly in the present, with nothing on his mind but Macy’s soothing touch.

  Ten minutes later, she moved back around to face him, her hair also wet, with little strands sticking to her face.

  She picked up the bar of soap and a washcloth, and in gentle, circular movements, she began washing his right arm. Although the blood had gone down the drain when he first got in, it seemed almost ritualistic to scrub his arms. She repeated her ministrations on his left arm, then moved to his torso.

  As she massaged the cloth over his chest, he wondered if she tried to wash the hopelessness and sadness that blackened his heart.

  Moving to his back again, she continued the slow circles. The soft touch and methodic movement did make him feel as though he were being cleaned not only on the outside, but somehow, it also reached his battered soul.

  Turning around, he gazed down at her, then took her face in his hands as he brought his mouth to hers.

  The soft kiss electrified him, his body responding with the gentle meeting of their tongues. He heard the slap of the washcloth hit the floor, and a second later, her soapy hands ran up and down his shaft.

  Groaning at the contact, he pulled her closer so he could feel the hardened tips of her breasts against him, and their bellies being pressed together only caused more friction as she stroked his cock.

  He ran his hands up and down her arms, feeling the sinewy muscles as their tongues languidly danced.

  His troubled thoughts and the happenings of the evening faded away once again, and the female in front of him became all that mattered.

  Removing her grip from his shaft, she laced her hands around his waist and laid her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, feeling so much comfort from the simple embrace. They stood like that for minutes, the water beating down on both of them while the steam swirled, making it seem as if they had been trapped in a cloud. He never wanted the moment to end because if it did, so would the peace he’d found in this brief period of time.

  Sitting down on the marble bench, he pulled her with him. She straddled him and they both sighed as she sank onto his thick erection.

  Staring at each other, she rocked gently in his lap. Where their other sexual escapes had been rougher, this time, it seemed sweet and beautiful. She laid her palms on his cheeks, her fingers brushing over his beard as he grasped her hips.

  They didn’t break eye contact, not once. The steam continued to roil around them, the echo of the water hitting the marble almost drowning out all sounds. He cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his forefinger and thumb and causing them to tighten and harden. Running his hands down her torso to her hips, he kneaded her flesh, then palmed the globes of her butt. Her breath came in little huffs as her core milked him, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as her eyes widened at the pleasure, yet she never stopped looking at him.

  In this moment, he felt she saw into his battered soul, and understood the heartbreak he held for the night’s happenings, the hopelessness for this war he’d signed up for. It was as if his heart had been gutted open, and she could see all his raw emotions: the hurt, anger, and desperation.

  He couldn’t tear his gaze away as she stared at him even if he’d wanted to. Macy was seeing a place he’d only shown one other person, and it scared him, yet it seemed cleansing at the same time.

  He gasped as the orgasm curled his spine and he spilled his seed into her.

  She collapsed against him, her arms around his neck while her head lay on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, not wanting to let go. When he shut his eyes, the images of the night tried to worm their way back into his thoughts, but he fought them off. He just wanted peace, something he hadn’t had in so long. Yet, he found it with Macy in these precious moments.

  Finally, she stood and turned off the water. Taking his hand, she led him from the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, and secured one around her torso. She took a third and patted his hair dry as he watched her in the mirror. She didn’t meet his gaze as she gently ran the comb through the strands.

  The silence between them soothed him, and the need for sleep finally settled in his bones.

  When the comb ran smoothly through his hair, she gathered it up and rolled it, standing on her tip-toes to secure a bun on top of his head. Glancing at him in the mirror, she smiled, then took his hand, leading him out of the bathroom.

  “Tomorrow, we can talk,” she whispered as she pulled back the covers. “But for now, we sleep.”

  He let
the towel fall to the floor and slid between the sheets. Macy did the same and snuggled up next to him, laying her head on his chest. He circled his arm around her shoulder, and she placed her hand over his heart while throwing her leg over his.

  The light left on in the bathroom cast the room in a soft glow. His eyelid fluttered as sleep overtook him, his cocoon of peace and tranquility firmly in place.

  Chapter 28

  Macy stared up at Titus. She just had woken with worry coursing through her. What had happened to him last night?

  Obviously, Titus had come to her seeking comfort, and she’d been more than happy to give it. She cared about the male and wished she could take away all his pain, including that left behind by Simon’s death. She’d thoroughly checked his body, and she hadn’t seen anything serious, just a couple bumps and bruises. Yet, something had brought him to her, and the blood on him indicated it hadn’t been anything good.

  “Titus,” she whispered.

  His eyes fluttered open. “Hey.”

  She almost felt bad for waking him, but not quite. She needed to know what had happened. “Hi.”

  He hugged her and rolled over so they were face to face. “Thank you for last night. I just needed … I just needed to be with someone.”

  She fully understood. There had been some nights where she’d have given up her healing abilities just to have someone to hold. “There’s no need to thank me. You would have done the same for me.”

  “Yes, I would have.”

  “Can you tell me what happened while you were out on patrol?”

  Sighing, he began his tale.

  “There was so much blood,” he muttered when he described the scene with Mary. “She seemed so nice, and she reminded me a bit of you.”

  She shook her head. “That’s horrible. It scares me that you were so close to a Colonist.”

  He chuckled. “It scares me, too. But last night, my anger seemed to be off the charts. I just wanted to kill him over and over, but it all seems like such a waste of time and energy. He’s got these followers who do what he says, and he just goes on hurting and killing people, regardless of what we do.”