Beyond the Darkness

by Jaime Rush

  She’d slipped out of her shoes as soon as they exited the elevator, looping the straps over her finger. Lovely shoes, but comfortable they were not.

  He locked the door of their room behind him. “Why don’t you take a long, leisurely bath in that tub that enchanted you so?”

  He hadn’t said Why don’t we take . . .

  “Maybe I will. My body could sure use it.” She walked up to him, feeling unsure and awkward, knowing he felt the same tension she did. “Thank you for tonight.”

  “When I said it was my pleasure, I meant it. I loved seeing you enjoy yourself.” He brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek. “You have a glow that made you the most beautiful woman in the whole city tonight. You looked sexy, but it was more than that. You have a beauty that comes from inside.”

  For the first time, she felt beautiful. The rush of joy took her breath away. Those weren’t just shallow words based on nothing more than her appearance.

  Her voice quavered when she said, “You could join me in that leisurely bath.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  She knew the rejection had nothing to do with her personally, but it still stung. She forced a smile. “There’s no adrenaline to make us crazy. You did say you had iron control.”

  “Not where you’re concerned. A leisurely bath would be more dangerous than giving in to our lust.”

  Because it would be much more than lust. She nodded. “You’re right. See, I’m the weak one.” She dropped her gaze, stepping back. “Good night.”

  “We’ll get up at five-thirty, go downstairs and have a good breakfast.”

  “Sounds good. The breakfast part, anyway.”

  She went into her room and closed the door. A strange, undulating glow was coming from the bathroom. Her throat tightened as she walked to the open doorway and peered in. Probably twenty candles flickered all around the tub, interspersed with vases of gerbera daisies. Either the flowers or the candles filled the room with a soft, sweet scent. The tub was up to the rim full, jets humming. This was why he’d ducked into the restroom on their way out of the show. She turned to go thank him but stopped. To go out there now, with her heart lodged firmly in her throat and eyes moist, would not be a good idea.

  Accept the gift for what it is and thank him in the morning.

  She swiped at her eyes and breathed in the whole scene before her. Fit for a princess. Tonight she had felt like a real princess, and he had been her knight. A man who loved her but couldn’t let himself love her.

  After slipping out of her dress and panties, she draped them over a chair at a small dressing table. She twisted her hair and reached for a hair clip. It would feel so wonderful to slip into that bubbling cauldron.

  “He thought of everything but music,” she whispered, taking a step toward the tub.

  “I can sing if you want.”

  She spun around to find him standing in the doorway, his hands resting on the upper frame. He wore only jeans, the top button undone. The candlelight made him look magnificent, washing out all the scars on his body but the long, deep one. She couldn’t quite read his expression. Serious, sensuous, and more.

  “Sing to me,” she said.

  She felt more naked than she’d ever felt, and more beautiful as his gaze softly dipped down over her and then back to her face. As though he were taking in the visage of a goddess.

  His voice surprised her, low and smooth and right in tune. “ ‘Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone . . .’ ” He walked toward her as he sang, his gaze never leaving hers. “ . . . ‘It’s not warm when she’s away . . .’ ”

  Her knees went to jelly. She’d heard Kris Allen sing the song on American Idol, and it touched her so deeply she’d downloaded the track onto her iPhone.

  He walked closer, until he was standing in front of her. He cupped her face, his fingers barely grazing her skin. “ ‘ . . . Any time she goes away.’ ”

  “You’re always the one who went away,” she whispered, her chin trembling.

  He touched her chin, those blue-gray eyes nearly swallowing her soul. “I’m here now.”

  She pulled his face down to kiss him. He was killing her, but this death was sweet. Their kisses weren’t the frenzied, out-of-control ones they’d experienced lately, but deliberate and slow and sensuous. So much better, because he was here of his own volition, not being carried away.

  He buried his face against her neck, holding her tight, and whispered, “Tell me again what you said to me in the yard, before the knife ceremony. Say the words.”

  She heard the plea in his hoarse voice, in the way his body was perfectly still. She remembered the pain in his words: You are mine, but I can never have you.

  That he had claimed her like that shivered through her again. “You can have me.”

  She felt something unfurl in him as he released a small, agonized breath and claimed her mouth.

  You do have me.

  They kissed for long, sweet moments, but the sweet gave way to more.

  She unzipped his jeans, and once she’d pushed them down his thighs, he stepped out of them. He hoisted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He grabbed a towel and laid it on the cold marble counter before setting her down on the surface. All the while he kept kissing her, hungry—no, starving—and it thrummed through her the same way it vibrated through him.

  His hand skimmed down and over her breasts, then across her stomach to gently squeeze her inner thighs. His thumb slipped into her folds, slowly seducing instead of jabbing and hurried. He had all night to seduce her, that’s what his movements told her. And he would take all night. She realized his tongue was moving in her mouth in the same motion, exploring, dipping, teasing. Her breath started coming in staccato gasps, an orgasm building.

  She whispered between those gasps, “I’m already wet. You don’t have to . . .”

  “Only half the reason for doing this is to get you ready.”

  “What’s the other half for?”

  She felt his smile during their kiss. “You tell me.”

  “To . . . to drive me crazy.”

  He slid a finger inside her, easing in and then stroking, brushing her swollen clitoris. He pushed her to the edge but not over.

  “You are driving me crazy,” she said, moving against him to push herself over. He moved slightly, his smile still in place.

  “I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

  “You . . . are . . . s-so bad.”

  He withdrew his finger, and what he did next completely, totally took her breath away. He slid his finger into his mouth, sucking the essence of her, dark pleasure in his eyes as they locked onto hers.

  “You taste good,” he said, and those words alone, especially the thick way “good” had come out, without him even touching her, nearly sent her over the cliff.

  Before she could respond—not that one word even came to mind—he hoisted her up and carried her down into the tub. It fit them both comfortably. He sat down first and pulled her onto his lap. His penis, hard and long and wet, slid against her thigh, and she pushed against him.

  She felt adored and loved and desired. Desired for everything she was. Though he’d never said the words, she felt his love. In his heavy gazes, in the urgent way he ran his hands over her body, cherishing it with his eyes and touch. And wasn’t she doing the same? Loving him back, hungrily allowing herself what she’d wanted for so long.

  His mouth devoured her, tasting her, licking and nibbling. She dug her fingers through his thick hair, something she’d longed to do all evening. Heck, from the first time she’d seen him.

  The heat between them seared deep into her body wherever they touched. Her breath came in long, deep waves, and she could hear his breathing, too. He came up to kiss her again, his hands bracing her face, his thumbs scraping across her cheeks.

  So many words wanted to pour out of her, but she was afraid they would break the spell. She would not let him stop to protect her, would not let him second guess what the
y were about to do. She said his name instead, softly repeating it. He kissed her more fiercely.

  Could they just stay there and do this until five-thirty in the morning? Who needed sleep, when every kiss, every touch, injected her with strength and energy?

  They touched, explored, like in a dream, his every touch a reverence of her. He kissed her face, neck, over her shoulders, each soft kiss deliberate. As sexually hungry as she was, she relished this tender sensuality. She explored every part of him that was out of the water in the same way, memorizing each curve of his face, the dip in the middle of his chin, the edge of his jaw and the groove above his full mouth.

  He leaned back, closing his eyes and sinking into the moment. Surrendering himself to her . . . the thought of it alone stirred deep in her soul. The way he’d urged her to repeat her words . . . he must have been holding onto them all this time.

  She twirled her tongue through the hairs on his chest, blowing on them, sucking them into her mouth, loving the coarse texture of them. And when she had circled her tongue around his nipples, making them go tight and puckered, he let out a hoarse breath and opened his eyes. Languid pleasure changed to a fiery spark. He wanted her, and that hunger sparked in her, too.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders. She moved her crevice against his erection, slowly, up and down. Two could play at the teasing game. His hands tightened on her back, fingers digging in. She put her hands on either side of his face. “No one has ever made love to me before. I want you to make love to me.”

  Love. Because it would be nothing less with him.

  She could see, though, that he’d gone beyond surrender now. Neither would walk away before they sated their bodies and souls. That delicious knowledge tingled through her.

  He lifted her onto the edge of the tub, clear of the candles, and spread her legs. His mouth trailed across her inner thigh and flicked her most intimate parts. It was the first time a man had put his mouth there, and as good as his finger had felt, his mouth felt infinitely better. Wet, soft, sucking and licking, his tongue dipping into every intimate fold. She arched and rocked her head back.

  She let out ragged gasps as her orgasm claimed her. When she thought he would back off and let her catch her breath, he kept moving his tongue over her supersensitive nub until an even more stunning orgasm rocked her. When she dropped over the edge one more time, she was completely breathless and stunned.

  “You’re even beautiful down there.”

  He meant it, his gaze heated as he gave her one last kiss there.

  He kissed her again, long and lingering, and then reached down to his jeans and pulled a packet from the pocket. Of course, he would be responsible. Even in this moment.

  She ran her hands over his slick back and behind, small and tight and perfect. He leaned into her touch as he put on the condom. She pressed her body against his back and slid her arms around him, her hand splayed on his chest.

  He turned and pulled her close, kissing her again before sinking into the tub and pulling her down with him. He sat, and she braced her hands on his shoulders and lowered herself, feeling the tip of him pushing against her entrance. She sucked in her breath as she eased onto him. He was big, she was tight. Her fingers squeezed his shoulders, from the tightness and her need to have him inside her.

  Her eyes welled with tears at the completeness of him, filling all the holes inside her soul.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, watching her.

  “I am so all right.”

  He let her set the pace, his hands gripping her waist as she moved against him. She was still tingling from her earlier orgasms, and it didn’t take much for the pressure to build inside her. When the explosion took her, this time inside, she gasped and held onto him. She’d only heard about internal orgasms or read about them in Cosmo. He held tight, letting it wash over her as she arched.

  Once she’d caught her breath, she whispered, “You didn’t . . .”

  He was still hard inside her.

  “I’m saving mine for the bed. I’m in no hurry, babe.”

  She smiled at the endearment. “You never called anyone else ‘babe,’ have you?”

  He shook his head, then helped her to her feet. He dried her, lovingly running the soft terry cloth over her skin. She grabbed a fresh towel from the stack and did the same for him.

  He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, setting her down and joining her. They made love again, and a curious thing happened as she closed her eyes and lost herself in it: she shapeshifted into a jaguar. In her mind, her body was feline, her fingers claws that kneaded his skin. It was strange and wonderful, and she rode the sensation. She felt him come this time. Still, he moved inside her, as hard as ever, until she came again.

  He continued to kiss her, holding his body above hers so as not to crush her. His hair fell down like a curtain around their faces.

  He paused, considering her, his expression dark. “How am I going to walk away from you now?”

  She touched his face. “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do. And instead of tearing out a piece of my heart, like it always does, it’s going to tear the whole thing out.”

  Her chest tightened. “Walking away from me tore a piece of your heart out?”

  He stretched out beside her, rubbing his hand over her arm. “I told myself I wasn’t going to let this happen. I’d have the tub prepared for you and go to my room. I got half undressed, trying not to imagine you sinking into that tub . . . alone. But it wasn’t that image that broke me down. It was the memory of those words you said to me.”

  She put her hand to his cheek. “You can have me. Heart, soul, everything.”

  She couldn’t see his face that night when she’d first said those words. Now she could, and the impact was deep.

  He took her hand, squeezing it. “I wasn’t strong enough to stay away from you tonight. But for both our sakes, I have to be strong enough to walk away once we’ve killed Baal and Yurek.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed his finger to it. “I exposed my son and his mother to danger.”

  But the thought of living without him now, as he’d said, was unthinkable. She reached out to touch his cheek. “Then come into the light with me. You’ve been fighting for almost twenty years. That’s enough.”

  “It’s never enough.”

  “You’ll never kill them all, you know.”

  She heard the weariness in his voice when he said, “I know.” He covered her hand with his, squeezing for a moment and then setting it on the bed. “Protecting you is also my purpose, and I will never do anything to put you in danger.”

  No, he wouldn’t. “I don’t regret making love with you, even if it hurts more to say goodbye. I hope you don’t either.”

  “I don’t. Along with the pain, I will have the memory of tonight. It’ll have to be enough.”

  No, it would never be enough, but as long as he lived for his mission, she could never have more.

  Chapter 17

  Yurek had been in the healing chamber several hours when Gaston, his superior, came into the room. Through the glass window in the chamber, Yurek watched Gaston consult with the technician on the healing process. He knew it was working; already he felt stronger.

  Gaston walked up beside Yurek’s head. “You are progressing well. Now you can tell me what happened.”

  This was not the conversation he wanted to be having, especially in the disadvantageous position of being on his back in the chamber. “Pope has unexpected allies.” He told Gaston everything, excluding Baal. “I can handle them, sir. I need only a few more days,” he added before Gaston could suggest sending someone else. “You must give me a chance to prove myself.”

  Gaston pressed his luminescent finger to his mouth. “Two half-Callorians. This is not good. But fortunate that you discovered them.”

  “Which means there may be more. I can find them, hunt them down. I am glad to take on tha
t mission once Pope has been extracted.”

  “Yes, Pope is our immediate concern. You feel you can complete your mission?”

  “Without a doubt. I have been very close.”

  “We do not have a lot of time. The Collaborate is anxious to find out what Pope has been hiding. Your probationary period is contingent on your being able to complete a mission on your own.”

  “I know, sir.” He could think of little else, especially lying in the chamber.

  Gaston remained there for a full minute, perhaps deciding. Yurek would beg for another chance, but he knew that would demean him further.

  Gaston looked at the ring given to Shines to prove their association with the C. It was sitting among Yurek’s personal belongings on a table.

  “I accepted your commission with us as a favor to Truxton. He assured me of your competence despite your family’s unseemly past.”

  “I have long ago distanced myself from my family for that reason. I am nothing like them.” Truxton was his friend, the only person he considered family. He was a Shine, from a long, distinguished line of Shines.

  “No, I see that. You may return, but I can only give you two more days to accomplish both missions: eradicate the half-species and extract Pope. If you fail, you will come back here and be replaced. We will then have to consider a future assignment for you.”

  Something Yurek dared not acknowledge thrummed through him. He would not let someone take his place. If his probation was considered a failure, he would be dismissed or relegated to tracking down minor violators. He would have to quit and go back to being a mercenary, not much more prestigious than Pope now was.

  “I will not fail.” The words came on a knife’s edge. “I promise you that.”

  Shines weren’t allowed to bring weapons from their dimension, because they might be left behind and discovered. He knew it had once been Pope’s brother’s job to retrieve all such pieces, including fragments of aircraft that had slipped through dimension cracks. In recent years Shines had to rely on their inherent abilities when on missions to other dimensions. Yurek knew that his own power to mimic should have helped him achieve success, especially where the hunter was concerned. But thus far it had not been enough.