Superman was starting to look a little nervous.
So was she, she knew, but the last shreds of timidity were falling away. There would be no rejection, of that she was certain, and the realization of that gave her the confidence she needed to push beyond her final fears.
She shrugged the towel from her shoulders and dropped it to the floor.
Zac didn’t look down. He kept his eyes on hers, though his face was right at her chest. She reached and held his jaw on either side, locking his gaze.
After a long moment, standing there, just being there, doing nothing more than looking into his eyes, she bent slowly and … kissed him. A tender touch of her lips on his. Once. Holding his cheeks lightly. Then again, slowly, another brush of the lips that rushed instantly to a deep, open kiss, pulling him into her with every bit of desire she restrained.
The world around her moved.
She released him and he strained toward her but she held him, at a tantalizing distance; leaned in slowly and kissed him again. Softer this time; then again, so softly, breathing into him as she did: “Zac.” Deeper, more passionate.
She pulled back, face inches from his.
Looking deep into his eyes.
“Now is our moment,” she told him.
And he took her to him.
CHAPTER 37: THE TICKING CLOCK
“So what’s he saying?” Drake entered the safehouse in the lead, Bobby and the others in tow. The rest of the agents were in the main room, a few noticeably absent. Those few were likely in the rear room with their “guest”.
“So far not much.”
“How were they planning to get out of the country?”
“Nothing to go on yet.”
Drake motioned Bobby for the tablet. Bobby handed it to him and Drake in turn handed it to one of his specialists.
“Take a look at this,” he said and the man took it.
The other agent continued: “All we know so far is what we saw: the Bok all scattered in different directions, no known destination. We’ve been monitoring traffic on all channels, specifically the local airports and even a few ports that are close enough.” The agent looked to the army of screens in the converted living room, each displaying information, manned by members of the team, watching and listening for any sign of unexpected departures. They of course had no info on any of the Bok and so could not flag them closely, but at least they could watch for unusual, last-second passenger requests, or flight plans or other signs, especially if several were made at once, cross-reference those for clues and see what materialized. So far nothing. Drake was sure they’d already chased more than a few dead-ends.
“Maybe they’re not leaving the country,” Bobby suggested.
One of the techs nodded. “We’ve been checking information through the Pyrenees passes. It’s possible they went west, toward Portugal, or east or even south, though with the time elapsed any of those crossings would still be unlikely as of yet. We’re watching police channels.”
“What about the girl?” Drake was nearly as keen to get Jessica as he was Lorenzo.
“We think she and her male friend fled the scene.”
Drake rubbed his scalp. This wasn’t going at all as planned. “Have you brought headquarters into the loop?”
“They were informed of Alpha Protocol. So far no break of silence on their end, so we have to assume no additional information there.”
Drake sighed. In the rear of the house he heard a thump and a muffled scream.
“Has our captive tried,” he fished for a description, looking back down the hall toward the interrogation room, “anything? Has he been able to use any … power, like Lorenzo used in the club?” The man he spoke to was one of the agents that had been with him at the club, though he hadn’t witnessed the Bok directly. Only Drake experienced the full, direct power of what Lorenzo did.
“Not so far. At least, not that we can tell. We have him quite immobilized, so it’s possible it requires some form of gesture, or use of the body.”
“No devices?”
“None yet.”
Drake felt his skin crawl. If the Bok used no devices to generate the weird field then that meant the power came from them directly. A frightening thought.
But maybe it was something embedded. Some ancient technology the Bok had embedded beneath the skin, within their bodies, that hurled the wall of force. Or maybe this guy they’d captured couldn’t do it. After all, only Lorenzo had done it for sure. At least as far as Drake knew.
Another shout from the back and he cleared his head.
“Let’s start piecing together our next steps.”
* *
Nothing else mattered. Not right then. Jess saw every opportunity missed, every chance that had passed, everything that might still be, the whole world open before her. It was a fresh look, filled with all manner of possible futures. Nothing she’d done, nothing that had gone before …
Nothing else mattered.
Zac lay with his head on her shoulder, looking down across her breasts, hand on her tummy, brushing her skin idly, finger going now and again in and out of her belly button. Both of them had been quiet for what seemed like a long time. She hugged his heavy head with one arm, stroking his short, black hair, breathing in the musk of his powerful presence. On her back, staring up at the ceiling, he stretched out beside her.
She was clean. Spiritually and physically, clean. The bath earlier cleansed her body, the last hours had cleansed her soul. Zac’s own body had at first been dirty, from the ordeals of the day, but slowly they’d cleaned him too, here and there along the way. His feet were the dirtiest, and at some point she’d used a towel to wipe them thoroughly, that simple action alone hugely sensual, leading to yet more passion. Everything was sensual right then. She was like a raw nerve. But she was finally satisfied, at last able to lay naked with him without any impulse driving her other than to simply be. For his part it seemed Zac could go forever, a product of the Kazerai infusion, no doubt—as even the most horny teenage boy would’ve given up long before then—but he was more than content to lay with her, quiet, being together in the purest, most magical way possible. Beyond his obvious stamina, and much to her complete and utter joy, Zac had proven to be completely normal. At least in every way that counted. Though she had no real-life example with which to compare, and perhaps he was much better than most—she had no way to know—she deemed him fully human, fully normal. Absolutely perfect.
She could not have been happier.
“You’re normal,” she said it as if a revelation. After everything to that point she was finally getting herself together enough to think. To step back and appreciate the events of the last however-many hours. The thrill running through her would not abate. Not that she wanted it to, she didn’t want it ever to, but the alternating giddy sensations and shuddering thrills coursing deep within her were starting to make her feel like she’d transcended; not just a temporary rush, but an actual rise to another plane. One filled with pure bliss. She couldn’t come down. It was like the world held still that afternoon. The day was theirs and nothing could impinge upon it.
A smile stretched her face until it ached. She let it run its course. Little butterflies danced in her belly, harder like dragonflies each time Zac’s fingers passed across her bare skin, back and forth, ever-so-gently, stirring them to a tingle she never wanted to forget. She wanted to burn that feeling into her mind; to have it, to relive it whenever she chose.
“Normal?” His hand came to rest on the patch of skin just bellow her naval.
She was recalling the ridiculous conversation with Bianca back on Anitra, imagining Zac as some sort of freak. Which he most definitely was not. A freak of perfection, maybe. Every inch of him. Wonderful. Every inch drove her desire, every piece, every part. At times that day she could hardly believe he was real.
When she didn’t respond he sounded a little sad: “I guess I was hoping for something a little more.”
What?
&nb
sp; “No,” she said hurriedly. “No, not that.” She reached and hugged his head with both arms, holding his cheek to her breasts. “Not that. You’re not normal.”
Face smooshed against her in her grip, his eyes turned up to look into hers. Shimmering, ice blue in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through cracks in the curtains, brilliant beneath his perfect, dark brows; brows that curved up just a little at the edges, the exact right amount and all sexy-like. So handsome. She kissed his forehead.
Now he looked confused. “So I’m not normal?” he said through his smooshed lips.
“Stop. It’s just …” she began. How best to put it? “You’re so super. You crack tanks in half, Zac. Come on. Put yourself in my place. Imagine you’re me.” She knew he wouldn’t make a joke of it. “I was a little afraid, that’s all.”
“Afraid of what?”
Suddenly she was shy. How can I be shy now? After all this? She released him a little. “I mean, what if you didn’t work like normal guys? Or something else was weird? I had no idea what to expect.” He waited for more and she admitted: “I don’t know! You’re normal. Ok? And that’s exciting.”
“So I’m normal.” he confirmed, acting resigned.
She smacked him. “You’re amazing, alright?” She leaned her head forward so he could see all of her face. “Amaaazing,” she rolled her eyes, all the way up in her head, making a totally amazed face. And Zac laughed and all was good. She flopped her head back to the pillow and looked up at the cracked, peeling ceiling, smiling to herself and so happy right then. Somewhere off in the house a clock ticked. Like an old grandfather clock.
Zac was amazing. Once her mind was made up and she jumped over that cliff she threw herself into the moment with every bit of pent-up desire, every ounce of her own passion, holding nothing back. Why go all the way and not go all the way? She, of course, had no idea what she was doing, other than a million internet views, magazine articles, overheard conversations with other girls, unwanted advice from Bianca, Amy, different advice from Mom, sterile text books and any and all the usual sources available to and bombarding any teenager. With only that to go on she feared, at first—and thankfully only a little—she’d get it wrong. But there was apparently more to it than all those things, and while experience probably went a long way toward sex, there was no denying the sheer power of instinct. Especially here where that instinct was backed by such passionate desire, fighting desperately to be unleashed. And so once loosed, once the bottle was uncorked, the day cascaded forward in a giant, cresting wave, crashing between intensity, tenderness, laughter, and even the occasional tears of disbelief that any of it could actually be happening. She had no idea Zac’s own experience nor did she ask, but through it all he was amazing, unbelievably so, and the way he fulfilled—exceeded—every dream, every hidden impulse, like he somehow knew without having to ask, or her having to say, though he also asked and she also did say, and she asked him and he told her, his every desire, no being embarrassed, all inhibitions gone, throwing themselves into each new thing … the way he fulfilled was so surreal, held her in such ecstasy, so high and for so long … in her greatest moments of lucidity that afternoon she wondered if something broke. Wondered if the utter, absolute joy of it—over-joy—had actually kinked something out of whack. Was this normal? Would she be stuck that way forever?
Ahhh, she sighed, hugely content.
If only that were possible.
“You were amazing,” Zac said quietly.
She stroked his hair; buried her nose in it and kissed his head. The fireplace crackled, flames low but still guttering, no longer giving off much heat. Off in the quiet of the house the clock ticked, methodically slow, echoing from the wooden walls. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. If it was truly a grandfather clock someone must’ve wound it. Maybe the Bok, when they were there earlier that day? Or maybe it was electric. There was electricity in the house. The farm was definitely used.
“It’s getting late.” Zac seemed to sense the moment had turned. Jess shifted uncomfortably.
The feeling of ecstasy started to fade.
But she was determined not to lose it. Not now. Not ever. To hell with the Bok and to hell with everything else.
“I’m hungry,” she said, changing the subject before anything bad could happen.
Zac inhaled. “Lorenzo will be back with more firepower—”
“I’ll cook us something,” she ignored him and rose, laying his head to the side and sliding to the edge of the bed.
He sat up to his elbows.
“We should go get Satori,” he persisted. “This was probably not the best use of our time.”
No. She was not going to have that conversation. Not going to let the magic of this slip into a discussion of practicalities and things they should’ve done or should not have done or things they now ought to be doing.
“I need to eat,” she said. “I’m hungry and we’re going to eat.” And that was final. She rose from the bed, turned and stood beside it. Looked him over as he sat there leaning back on his elbows, stretched out naked in all his length, all his glory, feet hanging over the end. He looked at her with those ice-blue eyes; always glowing with a light of their own, it seemed. Studying her. Wanting to do one thing, conceding for now to follow her wishes. She could see he would not argue. Not yet, anyway.
But the moment of their disagreement was coming.
“There must be something in the kitchen,” she announced. More practicalities crowded in. She stood there, completely naked, wondering what to wear. There was nothing left of her clothes. Nothing she would put back on. Somewhere during their lovemaking she’d taken off the rest of the jewelry and now had on absolutely nothing. Zac’s shirt was torn and filthy and ruined. She would’ve loved nothing more than to throw it on and walk around with it hanging to her knees. Cooking them a nice meal, wearing his oversized shirt, lounging about, just the two of them after a day of passion.
That wasn’t an option.
Frustrated she went to the room’s large closet.
“There’s some old shirts and a few overalls,” Zac said from the bed. She reached and opened the door. “They looked clean,” he added. She kept her back to him as she looked in the closet and shuffled through the few options. All the same size: men’s medium. Probably belonged to the once farmer. No female clothes to be seen, just three tan shirts and two pair of denim overalls. Nothing that would fit Zac, not even close. She took a shirt off the hanger and put it on. On her it was big, kind of like she wanted, but it wasn’t Zac’s. It only hung halfway down her thighs, and it stunk like mothballs.
She would have to pretend.
Shouldn’t be hard, she thought as she angrily rolled up the sleeves. This is all one big game of make-believe.
She turned to Zac, hating the sudden dissatisfaction crawling all over her.
“I’ll see what I can find and make us something,” she worked to keep things positive.
“Okay.”
He remained reclined on the bed, watching as she left the room and went padding down the long, carpeted hall—heels stomping harder than she wanted against the wooden floor beneath.
But she couldn’t take the emotion out of her step.
CHAPTER 38: DESPERATION
“They finally filed their report,” Nani said as she flagged a new bit of information. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Bianca walked over to stand behind her. Put a hand on the back of her chair. Bianca had been pacing, exhausted but unable to make herself rest. Jess was lost and until she was found—and safe—there was no way she could sleep. It was late in the day down on Earth. Everyone had now been up a full day or longer. The dark edge of sunset could be seen moving in from the east, heading toward Madrid. They’d been monitoring feeds, piecing together any picture of the incident below they could sift from the noise. The whole exercise was turning out to be far more complicated than Bianca ever would’ve imagined. Now it looked like Nani had the police report they’d been after.
“The motorcycle belonged to a Ramero Campione,” Nani read from a screen. “Apparently a rare model. It had a tracking device, embedded in the frame.” She looked over her shoulder at Bianca. “Which means we can probably find it.”
Bianca felt a surge of energy.
“Where is it?” she stood straighter.
Nani’s nose was in the screen, looking through everything she could find, tapping and cross-checking, dragging and reading.
Nothing.
“The tracking info isn’t part of the report,” she sagged a little.
Bianca refused to let her hopes be dashed. “Can we find it through the manufacturer or something? I mean, everything’s on the web these days. Can you find it?”
Nani straightened, rubbed her eyes and threw out her arms in an involuntary stretch. Bianca stepped away from the chair to give her room; stepped around in front of the console. Nani leaned back for a moment and let her lids close, then began rubbing her temples as Bianca watched. After she kept doing that for what felt like a long time Bianca almost snapped, almost asked her what the hell she was doing, but even in her depleted state realized that would be uncalled for. Nani was as tired as any of them and, honestly, she’d been doing all the work. In truth, as frustrated as she was, as angry, Bianca realized she could not ask for a better companion in this. Nani’s compassion, her intelligence, her dedication, were amazing. Though they’d only just met she felt like Nani was already a lifelong friend.
With one more glance at the beautiful scientist she turned and went all the way over to the edge of the domed screen, stood and looked down on the Earth below.
She’s alive, she told herself.
She had to be alive.
* *
Zac could smell whatever Jess was cooking, wafting down the long slope of the yard, coming directly from the kitchen ahead; a savory aroma that permeated the air, hints of things he couldn’t identify but definitely could not wait to taste. He walked slowly up the hill toward the house. The delicious flavors first caught him as he was finishing the unpleasant task of dumping the bodies of the Bok, mixing delicately with their exotic perfumes and colognes. There was as yet no stench of death among the Bok, just the smells they’d been wearing when alive. The smells of leisure; the very scents Zac found so intoxicating when discovering them in the boutique with Jessica. Those smells did little, however, to mask the carnage. So many bodies. He recalled how they seemed to keep coming, attacking from every angle. Maybe they’d been in the house, or the barn. Maybe in the trees. Once the fight began it was way more than he’d first thought.
Star Angel: Dawn of War (Star Angel Book 3) Page 40
