Myths & Magic: A Science Fiction and Fantasy Collection
Page 75
“I’m afraid not,” she said. “The bad news is that I’ve never seen—or heard—of anything like it. But now that we can see it, we’ll be able to quickly determine if any of the chemicals and drugs are taking effect.”
“Let me see if I have this straight.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “An intracellular parasite entered my skin via a frog’s bite. This tiny creature worked its way into my melanocytes, somehow altering the chemical makeup of my melanin—or replacing it, turning it blue.”
It was more than simple replacement, but the description was apt. “Unless you’re affected by strong emotion as you are now,” she reminded him, recalling the first time she’d seen his hand color shift. It was the moment she’d realized there was still hope for them.
“At which point I shimmer pink and silver like a soap bubble.” His lips twisted and his voice was wry. “How very lovely. If we manage to kill this parasite—”
Reaching out, she placed her hand on his arm. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to solve this, to find a way to stop this parasite. “We will.”
He raised an eyebrow in doubt. “If. Will my skin return to its normal color?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Perhaps, if the presence of a living parasite is necessary to provide the melanocyte with whatever code is necessary to produce guanine crystals… or it might be permanent. Either way, if we stop it now—”
“At least my face won’t turn blue.”
As long as he was hers, Piyali didn’t much care what color his skin turned. Not that such a declaration would bring him any relief. If brown skin placed one on the edge of respectability, blue skin… Well, who wanted to be treated like a carnival side show?
When Evan finally peered through the eyepiece of Piyali’s aetheroscope, he could hardly believe that such small, cigar-shaped creatures were the cause of all his problems. The biopsied melanocytes collected from his hand contained but one or two parasites, but those cells collected closer to his shoulder—where the infestation continued to spread toward his neck—were teaming with the creatures, all creeping toward the front edge poised for migration.
He imagined them crying out, “Onward and upward!” It seemed the only thing slowing them down was the ointment he’d concocted. Some component of that compound contained toxins. If they could isolate it, then concentrate it, perhaps there was a chance of ending—if not completely reversing—this nightmare.
Only then could she again be his.
Grabbing a machete, he stalked into the greenhouse to cut down one of the many khu-neh-ari lianas tangling through overhead branches.
“Evan,” she said quietly, following him. He could tell from her voice that she was about to broach an uncomfortable topic. “I know you wish to keep this secret—and why. I’ve not contacted Mr. Black, but if we can’t devise a cure and soon, I’ll need to let him know. With all of Lister University’s resources, with all their chemists working on this, progress will be fast.”
She wanted him cured. Given how his heart ached at the thought of a life without her, he understood. Not enough, however, to place a powerful, infectious biological agent into the hands of the government. It would be misused. Of that he was certain.
“A few days,” he hedged, slicing through the fibrous vines of the climbing shrub, a liana, and handing her a segment. With luck, perhaps they could avoid this argument. “This is the khu-neh-ari plant, the one I used to make the ointment.”
As she studied the leafy vine in her hand, lines of worry carved themselves between her eyebrows. “How do we go about this?” she asked. “Sorting one component from another.”
“Chromatography. Extraction and isolation of components. Distillation. Testing—over and over and over until we find the right dose, the right combination.” He cut free another branch and handed it to her. “I was taught to boil the leaves for two days, adding a handful of large stinging ants. I have a limited supply of those in dried form.”
Piyali gagged. “Along with eye of newt and wing of bat?”
He grinned. “The ointment works, doesn’t it?”
“Not quite well enough.” A determined look was back in her eyes. Cure him she would.
God, I hope so.
A glimmer of moonlight fell upon her cheek. Instead of reaching for another branch, he stroked her skin, that silky, smooth slope, with the back of his finger. “I never stopped loving you, Piyali, not once. Every night I would climb into my hammock beneath swaths of mosquito netting and think of nothing but returning to you.”
Pressing his hand against her face, she looked up into his eyes with such sadness. “Then why hide this from me?”
“I didn’t know if it was contagious. I didn’t know how fast it would spread, how quickly it would consume me. Like me, you watched your own family die, one person at a time. I didn’t want you to have to endure that again, watching a loved one die, unable to do anything.” It was why he’d tossed his reply to her into the fire, abandoning all hope of a wife and family. “It was hell.”
“But you wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere but at their side. When you didn’t answer, when the skeet pigeon didn’t return, I thought…” A tear slid from the corner of her eye and Evan’s heart almost broke, and his lungs felt heavy, as if they might fail to inflate. “I thought you’d realized I was a mistake, that you’d come home to find a Welsh girl from your childhood had grown into the woman of your dreams.”
“Never.” He threw aside the machete and brought his other hand to her face. “You are everything to me. I thought it better if I simply disappeared from your life.” His thumb brushed aside a new tear. “You have so much potential, so much talent, hiding here—with me—in the forests of Wales would be the world’s loss. I was so proud when I heard you’d won a laboratory of your own at Lister University.” He smiled. “And now you’re a Queen’s agent with a pistol on your hip… it makes you irresistible.”
An answering smile tugged at her rosy, full lips. “Irresistible?”
The experiments could wait. Evan pulled the cut branches from her hands and tossed them in the general direction of the cottage door. He hauled her up against his chest and kissed her exactly as he’d dreamed about doing all those nights alone in the rainforest. She tasted soft and sweet—of everything that meant home.
Moaning, Piyali parted her lips and ran her hands over the linen of his shirt, making appreciative sounds as she explored the shape of his muscles. As his tongue delved deeper their kiss grew hungrier, touching a match to dry tinder.
Heat shot down his spine, gathering low. Kissing her wasn’t enough. He needed her silky, bare skin sliding against his own, and there would be no focusing on anything else until such primal demands were met.
He dragged his mouth from hers. “Not here.”
“Why not? The cloakroom didn’t stop you.” Her voice held a breathless note, as her fingertip traced the blue tendrils that radiated from his shoulder across his chest and about his neck. “You’ve no need to hide anything from me.”
Even at his most vulnerable, laid bare before her eyes, she made him feel whole. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her back into the cottage and up the stairs. “Those walls weren’t glass, and this time I want to see everything.”
Chapter 7
Everything.
Nervous embarrassment hovered in her eyes, but she was no innocent. Their encounter in the Pharmacological Society’s shadowy cloakroom—their joining desperate and frantic and wonderful—had seen to that. He’d clung to that memory, a memory he’d unsuccessfully tried to cram into a dark corner of his heart and lock away. His groin throbbed with need, but as much as he wanted to be inside her again, this time he wanted to see her.
He set her down on the edge of his bed and knelt before her to unlace her knee-high leather boots, but the way she bit her lower lip made his fingers pause as conflict gripped him. “I can only promise you today. If that’s not enough, we’ll stop.” Though he might explode with the effort.
“Good. Because I don’t think I can manage to wait much longer.” He yanked the boots from her feet and threw them aside. His own shoes joined them. Without bothering to fully unbutton his shirt, he dragged it over his head. She shifted to unbuckle her corset, then, unclasping hooks, she slid her choli down her arms, leaving herself bare to the waist.
He let out a low whistle. “I knew I was missing out last time. So beautiful,” he murmured, sweeping his palm over her breast as her nipples puckered under his gaze, “and begging for attention.” Dipping his head, he caught the tight bud between his lips and sucked. With a moan, she gripped his head, holding him close.
Her back arched. “Oh, Evan!”
Cries of pleasure that had haunted his dreams fell from her lips, and he lapped in each one even as an unwanted thought crept into his mind. She was not his to keep. Not yet. Perhaps never. This explosion of longing, these shared moments of intimacy might be their last. All the more reason to treasure every one. Inhaling her sweet scent, he sent his hands wandering over the dips and curves of her body.
Hands. Hers were on his shoulders now, sliding over his biceps, then gripping his muscles. With the edge of his teeth, he scraped the tip of her nipple and was rewarded with a tight gasp—and the sharp bite of her nails into his skin. A heartbeat later and her fingers trailed over his chest, landing on the top button of his trousers, loosening it. He wanted this to last, but it wouldn’t. Not if she wrapped her hands around his hard length. With a gentle push, he sent her falling backward onto the thick, down-filled mattress.
“You first.” Bending over, he slid his hands over her soft skin, catching at the drawstring of her lehenga. A quick tug with his fingers, and the garment loosened. With a gentle kiss to her navel, he whisked away the satiny garment and lay her bare to his view. But before he could return his mouth to her skin, she rolled onto her side, propping herself on one elbow. Her long braid fell over her shoulder, and she toyed with its end, unfastening the tie that held the plaits in place.
“Take them off,” she said, her eyes slightly unfocused. “You’re not the only one who wants to look.” She ran her fingers through her hair, freeing its long, silky lengths. “Take them off and join me.”
All too happy to oblige, he yanked his trousers off and climbed onto the bed, stretching out beside her and skimming his hand over the curve of her hip. “So soft.”
“So long,” she said, her voice sultry as she traced his length. He clenched his jaw, wanting her touch but desperately trying to maintain control. His member throbbed as her slender fingers wrapped about him. “So thick and hard.” Her flashing eyes teased. “Remind me how we fit together, for it doesn’t seem possible.”
“No?” He caught her wrist. Much more of that and he wouldn’t last long enough to slide inside her. Encircling both wrists with one hand, he rolled her onto her back—then lifted her arms above her head, thrusting her gorgeous breasts upward. “Let me remind you.” He brushed a finger across the soft curls at the apex of her thighs, then slipped a fingertip along the seam of her wet heat. Her well-kissed lips parted and her breath came faster as he circled her center. “Remembering now?”
Eyes closed, her dark lashes fanned across her cheeks. “A glimmer,” she breathed, tipping her hips and parting her knees. “But I recall a bit more depth to your explorations.”
Nipping the delicate skin of her neck, he laughed against her skin, then slid a finger deep inside her hot, wet channel. “Like this?” he asked, pushing slowly in and out of her. He watched, greedy for the vision of her pleasure. Their first time together had been one of touch and taste—he’d missed the sight of her hips flexing against his hand, her back arching, her heels digging into the mattress.
“More,” she gasped. “All of you, Evan. Fill me.”
In no frame of mind to deny such a plea, he rolled, dragging her with him, across him, crushing her heavy breasts to his chest. Her hips to his. Needing to be inside her, he guided her leg over his hip.
“You want me… on top?” She rose up onto her knees, straddling him, lowering herself onto his throbbing member. Long, dark hair fanned about her face and over her shoulders, its ends a gentle tease against his hot skin. His breath caught as she flexed her hips, gliding her wetness over his arousal. “Like this?”
He groaned, and his answer was strangled, but he managed a retort. “Exactly that way, but with more depth.” It was her turn to laugh as he reached for a paper package upon his bedside table and pressed the sheath into her hand. No good pharmacist should be without one. He’d snatched a box at the store, hoping… “Cover me, then take me inside you.”
Sweet torture, her soft hands moving over his stiff rod. He dug his fingers into the sheets, fighting a need to surge upward. At last, she notched him against her opening and took a few inches of him inside. Slowly, she pulled away before easing him back into tightness and wet heat.
“Oh, yes,” she said, spreading her thighs wider, sinking onto him and finally, finally, finally taking him fully within her. “This is the delicious fullness I remember,” she said, her voice a low purr.
With a growl, he jerked his hips upward. “There’s more moving involved.”
“Is there?” she teased, holding perfectly and painfully still. She leaned forward onto her hands and took his lips with hers. A deep, soul-shattering kiss. He let go of the bed and pulled her face to his. As they kissed, her hips began to move, slowly at first, rising and falling upon his length until he tore his mouth away on a groan.
Reaching between them, he pressed a thumb to her swollen bud, and her hips bucked, taking him deeper. “Yes!” She threw her head back. Waves of hair tumbled over her shoulders as her back arched, tipping her breasts upward. Piyali, wild and beautiful. An image he’d never forget. “Oh, God, Evan. Don’t stop.”
His body tightened, tension coiling at the base of his spine, but he held back, wanting to wait until she found her pleasure. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold on, but he wasn’t going to last much longer. She was so perfect and it had been so long. Too long. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her buttocks, and buried himself in her.
“Yes!” she cried.
Her hips jerked against his, and her sheath clenched about his shaft while her face contorted with pleasure. At last, he let himself go, diving deep to bury himself within her. His climax tore through him, his heart pounding wildly as he plummeted over the edge.
She collapsed onto his chest, her hair falling about them like a curtain, shutting out the world so that only the two of them were left. He wrapped his arms about her waist, holding her tight as their ragged breaths slowly returned to normal.
“I love you so much, Piyali,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Long ago he’d professed his love, and he’d not hold it back from her now. Not when it was the only thing he could give. He couldn’t promise her forever, not yet, but she should know that she would always have his heart.
She loved him too. But the words wouldn’t pass her lips. Suppressed anger that he’d not called upon her for help the moment he’d known something was wrong? Or the nagging feeling of disloyalty to the Crown? It was a most uncomfortable position. She ought to report her findings concerning the origins of the blue lesion. But to do so was to betray Evan’s confidence.
Or was it simply that she could only offer such words to someone who promised her forever, no matter how short forever was? A promise he would not make. Not yet.
Lying here curled in his arms, body and emotions laid bare, she couldn’t bring herself to speak, to destroy the illusion that all was well. But even now, even as his glimmering fingers traced a slow, seductive path over the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, her mind puzzled over how the infection might—at the very least—be stopped in its tracks.
For it had to be stopped. This intracellular parasite could not be allowed to steal away her heart’s desire.
“We need to get back to work,” she said, breaking the silence. She rolled away, reaching for her discarded lehenga choli. “At some point, Mr. Black will take note of my failure to report.” While she was willing to delay that particular missive, she would not compose an outright lie.
Evan groaned, but he too pried himself from the mattress and stood, discarding the sheath. “The minute we solve this problem, I’m dragging you back to bed—and we’re staying there. For hours, if not days.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she treated herself to one last glimpse of his toe-curling physique. Her heart leapt at the dark and sultry look he cast in her direction, a contemplation of all manner of erotic activities. The muscles of his broad shoulders, of his defined pectoral muscles shifted as he tugged on his shirt. Tempting, to reach out with her fingertips and trace the ridges of his stomach that marched downward toward a resurging interest in bedroom activities.
“Then let’s begin.” After dressing, she padded down the stairs and crossed to the iron stove, adding a block of peat to the fire and setting a pot of water onto the range. “Boiling leaves and dried ants. Primitive. My mentors would recoil in shock and horror.” But not her dida. How many times had Piyali watched her grandmother boil methi—fenugreek—to make tea for settling her stomach and balancing her blood? Though in this particular case, dida’s bottle of neem oil might prove more useful as an anti-parasitic.
“Back to the basics, with refinement to follow.” Evan’s voice rumbled over her skin, a sensual distraction she forced herself to ignore—until he caught her in his arms for one last kiss, leaving her breathless, her determination to resist his charms cracking and crumbling. “I’ll gather the khu-neh-ari branches,” he said, then took himself off to the greenhouse.
Fanning her hot face with her hand, Piyali examined the shelves of his supplies, contemplating a variety of options. Pharmacology was not her specialty, but she knew the basics, and so—braiding her hair and knotting a string about its end—began to gather any and all supplies that held even the faintest promise of a cure. Bottles and jars accumulated: black drawing salve, boric acid, calamine, castor oil, chaulmoogra oil, copper sulfate, gentian violet, iodine, mercurous chloride, sulfur, turpentine…