He bit back a moan while yet another wave of fire seared down his legs. Sweat covering his body, he counted it out. Focused on the numbers. As the wave eased, he opened his eyes and found Kaid sitting in the visitor’s chair, the one that had been cold and vacant since he hunted Jaz out of his life.
Xylvar looked to where Kaid’s and Bliss’s hands were joined. He wanted to sneer, to yell at them for flaunting their happiness. Roar at the unfairness that they got to share their lives with the one they loved while he would not.
Kaid lifted his chin in acknowledgement of seeing Xylvar awake. “You look like crap.”
“Hope so, wouldn’t want to feel this shit and not make others miserable looking at me.”
“Doc is happy with your progress.”
“Doc doesn’t know what’s happening. Last week he’d written me off, was ready to insert a new electro-simulator, this week the sick bastard is delighted I’m in agony. Man’s a fucking sadist. Agony means his tech is working to at least to some degree.” Another wave of fire shot down his ass and legs, seared his toes. He arched his back through it, fisting his hand to stop him clawing at his flesh.
“Those are signs of repair.”
“Scans show new cells building on the robotocells forming threads bypassing the damaged areas of the spinal cord and rejoining the other side. But it’s possible the most I’ll score is this pain.” If the treatment’s aim was pain, it excelled.
Bliss gave him a version of the stink eye. “I’m surprised Jasmine isn’t here.”
The name hit his heart hard. The heart monitor beeped and the red line spasmed. Bliss squeezed Kaid’s hand, thinking Xylvar wouldn’t notice, he supposed.
Kaid looked at his mate and smiled. The sort of lovesick smile that made you either want to puke or die of envy. “If you two are going to do the lovey-dovey shit, you might need to hold that rubbish bin for me so I can throw up.”
“Jealous?”
He lifted his lip. “Of what?”
“Of the fact that I knew how to grab hold of a good thing. Knew that Bliss would make life twenty times better than before.”
“Guess I haven’t met that person, and obviously won’t.” At this moment he most wanted to escape the hospital, to roll his wheelchair in front of a bus, a tram, a train—hell, he’d take a push bike if it would kill him.
“Jasmine hasn’t been in for more than a week, I believe.”
Xylvar’s heart monitor bleeeeeped. “She has her own life.” And since he’d told her there wasn’t room in his life for her and his wheelchair, she’d done the only sensible thing. She’d moved on. ‘I won’t wait for you forever.’ Good. He didn’t want her to wait.
“So casual when you about have a heart attack every time you hear her name.”
Change of subject time. “Any more word on the Pure movement?”
Kaid shook his head. “We found those other bunkers. Three were full, two others were in various states of being cleaned and gearing up for blood donors. Otherwise, we have nothing new. Fernando Rich has disappeared. Someone called Carsen is hunting for him and the two missing neighbors from your undercover duplex. Does Jasmine know your spine is repairing?”
“Smooth slip in there. I have no idea. She has her own life.”
Bliss stood, scowling, the pretty turquoise and silver eyes flashing fire. “Jasmine deserves better than someone who tosses her aside so easily.” She leaned closer, her face coming to within inches of his. “But for some reason she loves you. Crawl out of your own ass, grow up, and get over yourself. And most of all, stop being a selfish jerk and give Jasmine not just what she wants, but what she and you both need.”
“She needs a better man than me.”
“Since you’re so selfish and can’t grow up, I agree. Not to worry, then, because we have at least a hundred single, male Eli in our clan. Several already have their hopeful eyes on Jasmine. Reckon one or two are ready to ask her to dance.”
The beeper stopped working, then beeped erratically. Dance, as in date. Dance, as in the Eli and Crea way of announcing they were interested in someone of the opposite sex exclusively. Dance, as in the guy, if Xylvar found him, would die a slow death.
Kaid stood. “Good to see you’re healing. Sorry to see you’re as stubborn and stupid as ever.” He slid Xylvar’s link closer to the bed. “I programmed her link number in as number one. Do yourself a favor.”
Xylvar glanced at the link, swallowed. “I won’t ruin her life.”
“Guess that’s the part that’s up to her, isn’t it? And that’s what you have to realize. It’s the female who gets to choose, not the male. For some reason, she sees more in you than you do. Maybe she’ll help you see it, too.”
After they left, Xylvar wanted to punch the shit out of something. He grabbed his sippy cup of water, his silver boiling and bubbling like some stupid witches’ caldron, and sucked—hard.
#
A month later, the orderly wheeled him back into his room from his first session of rehab without the brace. He wore another one locking only his neck and lower back to restrict movement. His back to his bed, he stared out at the busy Boston street, the specks of people far below, and he picked up his link. Like every other day, and most hours, he stared at the number one. Willing himself to call her.
Willing himself to be pathetic and cruel enough to ask her to take him as he was. Though some of the pain had receded and would probably ease more, and he could feel his legs, know without the electrical stimulus when he needed to pee, nothing moved. He concentrated hard, willing his toes to move. Not even a twitch.
He put his finger on the button. Press it.
Don’t.
Something on his foot moved. He dropped the link into his lap and stared at the toes on his left foot. He concentrated. Move. Please God, move.
The big one twitched.
“Holy shit! It moved.” His heart thudding hard, he stared at his right foot, and managed to move all his toes.
A wave of joy effervesced from his stomach to his head. Light-headed, he swallowed, spun his chair, and hit his buzzer. A nurse hurried in.
“Do you have a problem?” She wasn’t friendly. He’d long since made sure all the staff disliked him. Getting people to hate him had become one of his specialties since his accident, his entire life since Jaz left.
“Look at my toes.” She did, and he moved them. “Did you see that? Did they really move?” He tried again, but mid-move the muscles in his foot and lower leg spasmed and cramped. But the pain was fantastic. It wasn’t burning, it wasn’t tingling, he had genuine leg cramps and he fucking moved his toes.
And suddenly he owned, could feel he had, feet.
“I’ll get the doctor.” She hurried out the door and, ten minutes later, she and his surgeon walked in to find Xylvar still staring at his feet. His left foot lifting slightly from its natural down-tilt.
His surgeon, smiled. “Congratulations, Mr. Johanneson, I think you’re going to walk again.”
#
At midnight Xylvar lay awake, the link once more in his hands.
For the one hundredth time, he typed. My toes move. He stared at the words, ready to delete them. His finger moved and he shoved it over to the send button.
Message sent.
He exhaled. Shit, he’d done it.
Would Jaz care? Would she want him after he so callously sent her away?
Would she decide dancing with a male who wasn’t nearly brain-dead from stupidity sounded far better for a lifelong mate?
At least if he could walk, he could hunt her down, chase her, drop to his knees and beg her to forgive him.
And he’d do it. Because his toes and feet moved.
#
Jasmine heard the ting of a message on her link, but didn’t bother to look over from the halo movie she was meant to be watching. The bloody FBPI wouldn’t get off her back. Next time she needed time away, she’d find a cabin so remote it had no electricity, not even the solar-powered sort, and definitel
y no sort of link connectivity.
She picked up her bourbon and drained it. And for the ten thousandth time in over a month, picked up the two knives Xylvar bought her a few days before he went in for his treatment. She’d been foolish enough to think such a gift—expensive, thoughtful, and thinking of her safety—meant he cared.
And perhaps he did…in his own dark, twisted way.
He wanted her safe, and, if not protected by him, capable of protecting herself.
She shouldn’t have expected more from him. He left her behind once before, disappeared for ten long years. Nothing like the words “I care for you,” “I love you,” or “gee, I think we could have a future,” to make a man run like hell, or in his case, run into hell.
Her man had run into the armed forces, become an assassin.
And kept running, even when they met again. Sure, he’d been friendly, caring in his own way, but she made the small actions of friendship and comradery into so much more. Thought they meant genuine affection and commitment.
She poured the last of the bottle of bourbon into her glass. She’d have to visit the local village tomorrow, or she’d starve to death. But then she’d have to put on clean clothes, act sociable. She sniffed her armpit—bathe. Yeah, enough wallowing—time to clean up.
And move on.
Time to go back to work. Hunt for the missing Rich, and out the other Pure followers in the FBPI. Taking them down one by one would be her new favorite cause.
The next morning at six am, after no more than two hours’ sleep, Jasmine packed her hire vehicle. Maine had been great. The perfect quiet break from reality her shattered heart needed. First step of her move-forward plan: go visit Xylvar one last time, tell him he was right, that it was best she moved on.
Second step: she’d accept that promotion she’d been offered before Bliss contacted her, move to Europe, and follow a new path.
She returned to the cabin for her handbag, link, and the cabin keys. She opened the link and saw the message the night before was from Xylvar.
The air in her lungs froze. With a finger that shook, she tapped the screen.
My toes move.
What? More than a month, and that was it? My toes move? Well big de… “Oh, my gods. His toes move!” she yelled, before spinning, slamming the cabin door shut, and rushing to reception for checkout. She tapped the counter impatiently, smiling at how the noise reminded her of Xylvar, and waited for the owner to arrive in her flannel robe.
“Leaving early?”
“His toes move.” Jasmine said it in a half-laugh, half-sob. “His toes move. And he told me.”
She knew his text was equivalent to a declaration. I want you in my life.
She didn’t remember the drive back to Boston.
Or running through the streets, through the medical facility.
But she did remember running into Xylvar’s room and finding him flexing his feet, a deep line of concentration on his forehead, and the light of hope behind his eyes.
He turned, a rare and very sexy grin spreading over his face. “Crazy enough to give me a try?”
She wanted to hug him and tell him yes, but she’d cried more over this man than she had over everything combined over all the years.
“Us. Us a try. Better or worse. Walk or not.” She took a breath, stared at him with raised eyebrows. “Say it. Walk or not.”
He looked at his feet. “Better or worse. The rest will be fine.”
38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Xylvar walked to the door and leaned on the frame. His legs felt weak and wobbly from the workout he’d given them, thanks to Kaid’s gym. Every day he forced his lower body to work a fraction harder, and each week his body responded. His legs no longer looked like they belonged on another, much skinnier man’s body.
Muscles he’d managed to keep limber and stretched with constant mechanically-aided workouts were filling out. It would be some time before they were what they had been, but he didn’t care. He walked, could run, could even kick, and—the most important of all—he could make love to Jaz he way he’d dreamed of so many nights, over too many years.
And the reality far outstripped everything his mind conjured.
Jaz had her hair up in a messy bun, wild curls escaping to frame the face he couldn’t get enough of. “Hey, kitten, you written up the new roster for the outer rim guards?”
“Don’t call me kitten. And, yeah, did it up after Petrov from Crea clan sent me theirs. No point in doubling up in the same spots.”
He looked around the cabin on the creek they’d made their home, the two dachshund’s and calico cat they’d adopted after no one returned to the cabin in the woods for them, snoring in their baskets and his heart swelled. Every time he saw it, took in its ambience, he felt lighter. Jaz, a home, a role in an Eli clan, and more roles would be given to him as his body became more and more capable. And on the sideboard stood reminders of a card game and bourbon night.
It still felt odd to be a respected member of a group. Odder the friendship he’d developed with Dan, Rooster and Kaid. Not since he joined the army as a lovesick recruit had he made friends. He’d decided loner suited him best. A lie he’d convinced himself to believe because after experiencing the opposite, he enjoyed the comradery. The backup. The heart behind the team.
Jaz finished polishing her knives, held them up to the light.
“A woman with knives. Hot.”
“You think everything is hot. You’re like ten dogs around a bitch on heat.”
“True. I have a few years to make up for.”
She stood and stretched, walked over like she owned the world and him.
And she did.
She came up close, an inch away from touching him, her warmth an enveloping cocoon of everything Xylvar had ever fantasized. He still wondered if he would have been selfish enough to mate with her while he was still in the chair.
She’d like to think he would, that ultimately their love would have pulled him out of his own bitter hell.
He liked to think he would have had the heart to leave, to maybe find another gun and another hollow-point bullet, but in the end, he doubted it.
Kaid had said don’t fight fate, and Xylvar had a feeling that fate would have been an adversary more skilled than anything or anyone he’d faced before. Even his own incendiary device.
She lay her hand on his chest, just above his nipple, ran her hand down, hooking his nipple bar and giving it a tug.
She ran her nose up his neck, nibbled his ear. “You smell fresh.”
He slid his hand down her back, cupped the firm roundness of her left buttock. “Showered at Kaid’s.”
She kissed his chin, ran her hand down lower. Coming to rest on his hip, she gave it a tiny squeeze. “I think your hand is on my ass.”
He squeezed it. “It’s a good ass.”
“I made it just for you. Your new pants look nice.” She slid her hand around and rubbed the erection straining against the fine fabric. “Hugs those new muscles just the right way.”
“I made those just for you.”
He bent and kissed her, his silver brushing at his skin in metallic heat. “Floor, wall, bed?”
She unclipped and unzipped his pants. “The where isn’t important.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He bent, cupping his hands under her ass, and lifted. And headed for the bedroom. “I’ve got something in my pants for you.”
“You don’t have to tell me, I can feel it.”
“Well…that, too, but in my back pocket.”
She reached around and pulled out the two air-fare tickets and the booking for the hotel Kaid handed him earlier.
She read it, a wide grin spreading over her face.
“Oh, wow, Kaid really came through. Trip for two to Barbados for four—I repeat, four—weeks.” She hugged him. “Four weeks, sun, sea, sex.”
“My favorite s words. I can pretend to be the model coming out of the water like the brochure.”
“Think I can manage the water. So kitten, how about we make it our honeymoon?”
She bit his ear—hard. “Don’t call me kitten.”
His ear stung so hard his eyes watered. What a woman.
39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Fernando Rich walked out onto the stage. The light hitting the top of his head was designed to illuminate his robe, but shadow his face.
“Five months ago, our plans to capture a large number of Crea were foiled. We lost many men and women who were members of our cause. But let this disappointment add to the fuel of our beliefs, to throw a flame onto that fuel and let it explode. Our army is growing, our training is honing the skills to fight our enemy. We may have lost that small skirmish, but we will win the war. And a war it is.”
People applauded, nodding their heads, a cold, fanatical light in their eyes.
“We must stay strong. In the end, we with the vision of cleansing the Earth will be the rich, the powerful, and the only race on this planet, our Earth. For the greater good.”
He loved that phrase, for the greater good. It was his brainchild. He walked off the stage and paused next to a short man. “How are we progressing with finding the other creatures like Devlin Dempster?”
“Two Crea and one Eli part-Androids have been found.”
“They reliable? The metals of their robotic parts corrode with their natural metals.”
“Their sanity is questionable. But who cares? They’re a weapon, they’re not our friends.”
Rich unclipped the robe, threw it into the trunk of his vehicle. He couldn’t give a flying turd whether the movement won. All he wanted, all he’d ever wanted, was money. And the more Crea gold and Eli silver he could amass and sell, the more easily he’d be able to disappear.
About Cassandra
As a child, Cassandra L Shaw prayed she was secretly Dr. Dolittle. She loved all animals and bugs with a fierce devotion that has carried into her adult life. She lives in Queensland, Australia on a small farm with her family, dogs, cats, horses, goats, chickens, ducks, geese, and two bossy birds.
Flames of Hope Page 32
