by Alison Ryan
“Sure. Does anybody have a DNA sample? Maybe he cut himself shaving and I can locate a drop of his blood in the Atlantic Ocean while I’m at it,” Raven retorted.
Asking Raven to perform a difficult task was a sure-fire way to get her to grumble and complain about its impossibility. But she always came through.
“Just do your best, Raven,” I offered.
“That daughter of yours is definitely going to be named after me,” she said, aggressively typing on her laptop.
We discussed Milan, past experiences there, operatives we’d worked with, ways in and out of the city. Of the four of us, I’d spent the least amount of time in Milan. Really only a day and a half, taking a short break between jobs for QB. It now occurred to me why he wouldn’t have sent me there in a professional capacity; it was one of the places he resided when he wasn’t working. If and when he gave me reason to come after him, easier to hide from me in a strange city. Or set an ambush.
But he’d have no idea we were coming. It was a freak thing, seeing him on television. He’d actually only appeared on camera for a moment. We analyzed the few seconds like it was the Zapruder film.
It was halftime, and Milan led Verona, 2-0. The camera showed the players leaving the field, then switched to a shot of a smiling Silvio Berlusconi in the crowd. The camera zoomed in on him, but not before an astute viewer could make out perhaps a dozen individuals around and behind him. Two rows back, over his left shoulder, next to a striking Asian woman, was QB. He said something to her, they both laughed, and then it was as if he could sense the camera and he turned away, lifting a hand to cover his face just as the zoom cut him off anyway.
Raven identified most of the people in the shot, and they were, as we expected, public figures. The woman with QB was a mystery, although she had to be nearly six feet tall and probably Chinese. A hulking, expressionless man stood on the other side of QB. Judging by his size and scowl, he was a bodyguard.
As we strategized, Nathaniel’s phone buzzed. He looked down at it then his head fell back and he stared at the ceiling.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“Sorry, Atlas. My guy in Ottawa. They found your brother. They found Achilles.”
The way he shook his head confirmed my worst fear.
22
Clara
Odin kissed like he was born to do it. If this was how he kissed when he hadn’t been able to move any of the muscles in his face for weeks, I was in trouble.
We lay together on his bed, kissing, touching, laughing, and gazing into each other’s eyes like lovesick teenagers. We might have gone on like that all day, except to my great embarrassment, Atlas marched into the room with Raven trailing him.
“Sorry to interrupt physical therapy,” he stated, his tone and expression deadly serious.
I rolled off and wiped a stray strand of saliva from my face, trying to shrink and disappear from sight.
“Achilles is dead. His body was found in Canada. In a fucking dumpster.”
I gasped. Odin stared in shock.
“Holy shit,” Odin whispered, his voice a surprise to Atlas and Raven.
“Nathaniel is arranging to have his body prepped and sent here to the Clark County coroner. I don’t know what else to do with him,” Atlas explained. “It’s not like we can hold the funeral he deserves, and we can’t be with Dad and Canaan, so it’s all I could think of. Nathaniel’s guy up there has kept it mostly out of the news. The press there is calling him an ‘unidentified body’. Raven says there are rumors on the internet, but no reputable source is confirming it yet.”
“Did they say how he died?” Odin asked.
“He was executed. But he was tortured first. Probably trying to get a locale on Dad. Or me.”
Atlas looked like he might explode. Odin wiped a tear from his cheek.
“Achillea,” Odin said.
“What?” Atlas asked, his confusion bordering on annoyance.
“Your baby. My niece. You should name her Achillea,” Odin explained. “That’s the female equivalent of Achilles.”
“It’s also a family of flowering plants,” added Raven.
“I like it. Yeah. Achillea. Achillea Ronny Titan,” Atlas clearly enjoyed the name. I wondered if Piper would be as enthused.
“What do we do now?” Odin asked. I could see he was holding back his grief. There just wasn’t time for it. I couldn’t even imagine how he felt to lose his brother.
“Clara gets Piper ready to have this baby. After that, the team going to Milan gets in the air. Your job here will be to keep Achillea safe. Once we finish taking out QB, then life can hopefully get back to normal,” Atlas paused, then softened. “When did you start talking again?”
“I’ve been building up to it,” Odin explained.
“Good to hear you again, bro. Don’t overdo it. You’re going to be watching over the ladies while we’re gone. Not alone, of course, but it’ll be you, Randall, and one or two more guys. Rest up.”
Atlas shot me a look that I couldn’t quite read. His surprise at finding me giving his brother mouth-to-mouth and then having to break the news he did would be awkward for anyone.
As they left, Raven paused at the door. “We’ve had plenty of bad news and probably more to come. You two, as you were.” She closed the secret bookshelf door behind her, leaving us alone.
I sat on the chair next to Odin, holding his hand. “I’m so sorry about your brother.”
“I am, too. But we’ve been kind of prepared to get the news,” he said. “Atlas and I talked about it a few days ago. Naturally, he’s more pragmatic than I am; he’s had to deal with loss more than most, and sometimes right in front of his face. But at this point in time, the situation we’re in, something I heard Johnny Cash say once makes a lot of sense.”
“What was that?” I asked.
“He was doing a concert with Willie Nelson, one of those shows in a small venue where they explained the stories behind songs and took questions from the audience. It was a song called ‘Drive On’. Not one of his big hits, I don’t think, but one that meant a lot to him. He said he was talking to a Vietnam vet, a combat veteran, and he asked him how they stayed sane knowing they could die; watching their buddies die. The guy answered him ‘Drive on. Don’t mean nothin’.’ Even though in reality it was literally life and death and what could mean more than that? But the only way to keep marching, to rationalize it in your mind when the guy next to you stepped on a mine and there were pieces of him, this guy you’ve been eating with and sleeping next to and putting it all on the line for and with for weeks and months, pieces of him thirty feet up in the trees, was to compartmentalize it. Put it away. Drive on. Don’t mean nothin’. Mourn later. If you stop marching to dig a grave; to hold a memorial service, to wait for a chaplain to come along, the whole platoon might wind up just like the guy who stepped on the mine. So, yeah, I’m torn up about my brother. Devastated. But I have two more brothers. A father. Piper needs me. The baby will need me. I have to drive on.”
“I need you, too,” I replied, close to tears.
“I want to hold you some more. Climb up here with me,” Odin instructed me.
It felt good just to be close to him. We just lay there quietly for a while, his fingertips in my hair and caressing my face softly.
“Do you believe in soul mates?” Odin asked me, out of nowhere. I propped myself up and twisted so that I could look at his face.
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean the whole concept that for each and every one of us, there’s that special one, that person who’s perfect for us, who completes us, our perfect match,” he explained.
I pondered the question before answering. “I guess I’d like to think so, sure.” He made a sound that suggested he disagreed. “No?” I asked.
“Here’s my problem with that theory. Let’s say you were born in, I don’t know, pick a place. Botswana. And your ‘soul mate’ lives in Maine. How are the two of you ever supposed to meet? And w
hat if you’re lucky enough, you hit the lottery, and your ‘soul mate’ is born in the same town as you, around the same age as you, and the two of you are practically guaranteed to cross paths. Except, oops, he or she has some awful childhood disease and never makes it past kindergarten. Was that really your one shot at true love? The fact is, way too many people settle for the guy they had a crush on in high school. Or the girl who works in the office down the hall. And where’s the adventure in that?”
“I think maybe you know it when you find it,” I replied. “When you feel it. Your gut tells you. That little voice in your head. It knows the difference between the girl you meet at the bar and ‘hook up’ with and the guy who’s supposed to be forever. Not that people always listen to that voice, of course, but they ought to. Although if they did, lots of divorce lawyers would probably be flipping burgers,” I countered.
“Would you like free legal advice with your fries? An expungement with your milkshake? How about contract review with your nuggets?” Odin joked.
“Tax advice with my meatball sub wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” I suggested. I still hadn’t figured out how I was supposed to explain my Titan windfall if and when the IRS came calling. Miscellaneous income?
“Clara,” Odin said. “I didn’t mean to sound so cold. I wanted to say… I believe people are meant for each other. And that sometimes more than one person is meant for someone. I guess that was my clumsy way of hoping I could be your Callum. One day.”
I snuggled into the crook of Odin’s arm again, and the hand that had been touching my cheek was presently grazing my collarbone and lower, not quite to my cleavage, but close enough that I was feeling it in other places. My nipple, covered, but just inches from his hand, was all but screaming, demanding attention.
“You know, sometimes when you least expect it or are looking for it, you may not find your soul mate but finding a terrific kisser isn’t such a bad consolation prize,” I joked, and pushed myself back up to eye level with him.
Our lips brushed against each other, and he pursued my mouth when I withdrew. I went back in, but as he attempted to seal the kiss, I changed position, just letting our lips graze in passing.
I enjoyed the game, giving, then taking away, feeling him pursue me. It excited me. His hand was on my shoulder and I took his wrist and slid it down so that his palm covered my breast. My nipple was screaming for contact, and a clumsy hand through my top and bra was better than nothing. I captured his bottom lip between my teeth and tugged, eliciting a soft moan from him.
I rolled my hips across him, and he raised his leg so that his knee pressed into me. Odin Titan was full of surprises. I finally relented and kissed him hard, desperately, as I ground myself against his muscular thigh, one of a set that had impressed me so when I first set about giving him sponge baths and massages.
My hand found his cock and squeezed its girth through his pajama pants, finding it just as solid and impressive as when I’d been shaving his face.
His kisses became more insistent as I stroked him, and a small climax jolted me as he throbbed in my hand and his mouth overwhelmed mine. I stiffened against him and the hand that had been mashed against my breast found my cheek, gently touching me and looking into my eyes.
“Clara, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, kissing my forehead and cheeks as the last tremors rippled in my core.
At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be with him, to surrender my body to Odin Titan and explore our primal needs with each other. But I feared that what I had pent up inside me would damage him in his current state. As much as I was surely falling in love with him, I was still his caregiver, his doctor, and I had to keep in mind how close he’d been to death not so very long ago.
“Thank you, Odin,” I replied. “I want you, desperately. But as much as it pains me to say this, we should slow down. You’re in no condition yet to exert yourself. No matter how badly I want you to.” I grinned at him, my hips writhing on their own accord, not wanting to stop.
“Is the door locked?” Odin asked me.
“It can be. But you really shouldn’t…”
Odin interrupted me, his eyes locked on mine. “Your mouth is delicious, Clara. I want to taste more of you.”
An aftershock twitched inside me as he said it.
“Lock the door. Let me have you. I want to make you come.”
“But Odin, I don’t think it would be safe for you to…”
“Who said anything about me? This is about you. Lock the door and stand up here on the bed. Don’t make me beg. It’s pathetic enough that I can’t walk,” Odin’s smile shattered whatever defenses remained after the first time he kissed me. He wanted to kiss me there?
Hell. Yes.
I punched in the code to lock the door. It could be overridden, but I hoped that between Raven running interference and meeting a locked door, anyone wanting entry would be dissuaded.
I dimmed the lights and wriggled out of the yoga pants I’d been wearing. He pushed himself into a more upright position, and I stepped across his body. He was eye level with my very aroused, wet… Oh. Oh my.
Odin’s hands went around behind me, and he gently, but firmly, pulled my hips to his face. His mouth all at once consumed me. His approach was very direct. He was like a man in the desert being given a canteen filled with water; there was no sipping, only gulping.
He held me in place and his tongue split me, entering me as I squealed and held onto the frame above his mattress that held the handrails and rings with which he could pull himself up.
No one had ever gone down on me as passionately as Odin was. He moaned and sucked, licked and hummed, creating wonderful vibrations right where I needed them. It took almost no time for my release to arrive.
“Oh fuck, Odin that’s it. Right there, that’s fucking it!” I gasped at him, gyrating through an intense orgasm. His unparalleled talent as a kisser evidently extended beyond the mouth.
I was too sensitive for more direct stimulus so soon, and I tried to pull away to recover. He held me there and began kissing my pelvic lines. “Tell me when you’re ready for more. I need more,” he said between kisses. His fingertips ran down the center of my back, tracing my spine down to the top of my ass, while his other hand went up and down the back of my legs.
I was in a lust-fueled frenzy.
“More,” I commanded, holding tight to the frame and thrusting myself wantonly into his face.
He changed his technique, curling his tongue into a U shape and scooping from the bottom of my opening to the top. Before reaching my clit, he’d burrow inside. Odin expertly stoked the fire inside me, never letting it overtake me, rather keeping it right on the brink of inferno. A controlled burn. With a master at the controls.
After several minutes, I was bucking against his face, whimpering with need. He lifted his eyes to meet mine, and I could see the smile in them. He was loving this.
I, on the other hand, was reaching a pinnacle of frustration. My body was ready to come again, but it could only happen with Odin’s blessing.
Looking into the eyes of a man with complete control of your orgasm, keeping you teetering at the precipice of ecstasy, is completely overwhelming. I closed my eyes, unable to meet his any longer for fear of drowning in them forever.
“Odin make me come, please make me come!” I begged lewdly. I wanted for nothing so much as release; the euphoric release that only Odin Titan could grant me.
His hands took great handfuls of my ass and pulled me against him. His lips encircled my clit, and he sucked gently. If I thought I’d been at the pinnacle earlier, I now realized how foolish I’d been. He’d helped me to climb a mountain, and admire the view, but now he granted me wings and bade me to fly, to soar high above the peaks and snowcaps, to look down on the world and everything in it. I spread the beautiful wings he’d given me and I flew. Fast and high, I sought the upper atmosphere. When I got there, I gasped for breath that wouldn’t, couldn’t come. The air was just too thin. Th
e Earth was so far below me, even the clouds were distant. I gasped and rutted against his wondrous mouth, squealing and thrashing, the muscles in my thighs threatening to rupture from the strain.
The orgasm, in the position I was in, with the man who provided it, was supernatural. It never seemed to end, his suction more and more insistent, coaxing more and more out of me. Fragments of my soul fell at his feet. I was his, in every way a woman can belong to man who loves her.
I slid down his body like a snake, and into his arms, still trembling. “Hold me, Odin, please hold me,” I implored him.
“Absolutely,” he replied. “You’re so very beautiful, Clara. So beautiful.” He held me and softly kissed my face. A contentment I thought lost to me forever enveloped me in its warm embrace.
If I never left that bed, I wanted for nothing.
23
Atlas
Clara explained to me and Piper that she wasn’t set up for an epidural, but that she could administer Pitocin to induce labor. She could perform an emergency C-section if need be, but she preferred things proceed vaginally and as naturally as possible, due only to the lack of a proper medical facility.
Piper and I discussed the minimal risks to inducing ten days early, and we agreed that, given the circumstances, it was the best option.
That night as we lay in bed, Piper lay on her back, cramping terribly.
“You can’t take anything, can you? I wish there was something I could do,” I felt awful for her.
“No, I can’t really take anything. I am so ready to have this baby out of my body.”
As she lay next to me groaning and holding her belly, I rolled onto my side to face her. She hated the way pregnancy made her look, but I loved it. She was so lush and full, and being with child had made her swell in all the right places. According to her, the orgasms she enjoyed during her pregnancy were like regular ones on steroids. Her nipples ached all the time, and depending on the time of day, she’d request either ice packs or warm compresses. I preferred the warmth of relief come from my mouth.
