by Kallysten
Maybe he shouldn’t have teased her about working up an appetite…
He glanced down for the hundredth time or so in the last couple of hours. Her fingers were just inches from where his cock lay thick and hard, clearly defined by leather. If she’d just move a little lower…
Rather than going down, her right hand came up and tapped him on the shoulder. He thought for a second she was admonishing him to pay attention to his driving, but soon realized she was pointing out a sign on the side of the road. It advertised a diner. Time for lunch.
He took the exit, finding the restaurant right off the highway. Ladybird slid off the bike first. When he dismounted and turned to her, he was startled to see her in the same long, tight dress she’d worn when he’d first come out of the store to find her by the bike. He’d liked the jeans and t-shirt look, but he couldn’t deny this dress fit her perfectly. It didn’t help with the problem of his over-tight pants, and from the little smile she gave him as she looked him up and down, she knew that much.
“Shall we?” she asked, taking his arm.
As they walked in, he couldn’t help but reflect on how easily she’d reached out to him, as though they’d done this dozens of times before. He wondered if it’d feel just as familiar when he took her to bed.
A nagging feeling came to the surface of his thoughts as they followed a waitress to a corner booth, and he looked down at her wrist. It was once more wrapped in multiple bracelets that would hide her tattoo from anyone trying to get a peek. It couldn’t be his name there, could it?
“What is it?” she asked in an urgent whisper once they were seated and the waitress had walked away. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or a UIPP team.”
He shook his head, trying to smile.
“No, just wondering about something.”
Her arched eyebrow invited him to continue.
“You haven’t asked me my name,” he said. “All this time together, and you haven’t asked once. Any reason why?”
She picked up the menu and disappeared behind it. Was she trying to hide something, or did the subject matter so little to her? The exchange of first names, upon meeting someone of the gender one was attracted to, was one of those things everyone did with a small edge of trepidation until they found the person whose name matched their tattoo, and whose tattoo matched their name. People who didn’t ask others’ names had either found their mate already, or like Idris they didn’t care to ever find them.
“You haven’t asked me mine either,” she retorted. “Any reason why?”
He gave her a look of mock surprise over the edge of his menu. “Are you telling me Ladybird isn’t your name? I’ve been thinking of you as that since—”
He interrupted himself as someone walked past their table. He’d been about to say ‘the jail,’ but maybe a little discretion might be best.
“Since we met,” he finished.
“And I’ve been thinking of you as ‘thief’ for almost as long,” she replied playfully.
The return of the waitress stopped Idris from offering ‘James Watson’ as his name. They ordered quickly, and as the waitress left again Ladybird asked, “Speaking of thief and stolen goods, where exactly do you intend to ride my bike to?”
So. She was more interested in her bike than in his name. Fine with him.
“How far do you intend to let me go?” he shot back, leering so that she’d know the innuendo was very much on purpose.
“Pretty far,” she replied with a straight face. “I’m not opposed to a little pleasure trip, especially seeing how I’m out of a job. I just like knowing what I’m consenting to.”
He couldn’t quite suppress a startled laugh. It was like playing a game of poker. ‘I see your innuendo, and I raise you a double entendre.’
She’d asked earlier where he was going and he had evaded the question. They’d been riding for hours now. He supposed he could tell her that much, so she could decide whether it was time for them to part ways.
“I’m going south. Close to the coast.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“No. But it’s where I was living when I was taken. I’ve got some scores to settle with the people who sold me out.”
Something blazed in her eyes, although he’d have been hard pressed to figure out what it meant. She started saying something, but already the waitress was returning with their food.
“Paras or normals?” Ladybird asked sotto voce when they were alone again.
“Wolves,” he replied in the same tone. “I stayed with their clan for a while. From what I’ve pieced together one of them sold me out to save their own skin.”
She focused on her food, and while Idris picked at his own he couldn’t fail to notice she was frowning, seemingly deep in thoughts.
“You don’t approve of me taking my revenge,” he guessed, giving her a grim smile when she looked at him. “Is it because they’re paras? Are you going to try to convince me that we should stick together or something just because we’re freaks?”
“We’re not freaks,” she said fiercely, and that blazing fire was back in her eyes.
Although the diner wasn’t anywhere close to being full, the noise level had been high enough that, when silence suddenly fell all around them, it was impossible not to notice. Idris looked around. Sure enough a dozen people or more were peering in their direction, including two waitresses and the manager. One by one, they looked away, and conversations started again throughout the diner, although they did seem more subdued than before, as though people were waiting for another outburst.
“Sorry,” Ladybird breathed with a sigh. “I didn’t mean to be that loud, I’ve just got a problem with that word. But I meant that. We’re different, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to hunt us and lock us up. And I don’t disapprove of you going after your former friends per se. I just think you should keep a low profile for a while. Right now you’re probably on a ‘most wanted’ list in every UIPP office in the country. Give it a few months, change your appearance a bit, and you’ll be less at risk.”
He couldn’t deny that she had a point, but knowing she was probably right didn’t change his mind in the slightest. During those long months in that small cell, the one thing that had sustained him was the thought that one day, he’d get out and make the wolves pay for every hour he’d had to spend in that hellhole. Now that he was out, there was nothing else he wanted more. He didn’t feel like arguing with her, however. He’d much rather go back to flirting.
“Change my appearance?” he repeated, mock-affronted. “And mess with perfection?”
She laughed quietly at that. God, she had a beautiful smile.
“Well, I’m not saying you’ve got anything to improve.” Her eyes sparkled as they ran over what she could see of his body. “Although maybe you could grow out your hair a bit. Give a girl something to hang on to.”
Grinning at the images her words summoned, he passed a hand over his head. His hair was shorter than he liked it, almost as short as a military buzz cut, but it wasn’t like he’d been offered the services of a barber while stuck in that cell. Most prisoners he’d seen in the hideout had long, tangled hair, and many men sported hirsute beards. Idris had kept himself groomed with the one thing the security forces couldn’t take from him: his fire. It’d been a reminder to himself that, even confined, he was still himself.
“I’m sure you’ll find something to hold on to when it comes to that,” he offered with a leer.
“When, huh?” She snorted quietly. “You’re awfully cocky.”
“Says the woman who…”
His voice trailed off, though he barely noticed. Something had changed in the diner. He couldn’t have said what exactly, but over the years he’d become very good at reading the ‘mood’ of a place. His instincts were screaming at him that danger was imminent.
“I think we should get out of here,” he said in a low voice, taking another bite of food that tasted like ashes and fighting hi
s need to look around. He shouldn’t give himself away by showing any suspicion.
“You’re gonna have to work a little harder for that,” Ladybird replied, still teasing.
Hadn’t she noticed anything, or was she only projecting nonchalance? He couldn’t tell. He held her gaze as he said again, his tone as serious as he could make it, “No, really, I think we should get back on the road. We’ve got a long way to go.”
Her smile slowly faded, her expression turning first to confusion, then to grim realization. He didn’t know what she’d noticed, but she seemed to have the same impression he did.
“Why don’t you take care of the check while I go powder my nose?” she suggested, speaking in a normal voice but with a fiery intensity in her eyes. “I’ll join you outside in a moment, all right?”
He was about to say it wasn’t all right at all; separating now seemed like a bad idea when they didn’t know what exactly was going on. The thought was odd, because he usually preferred fighting on his own. Less chance of injuries under friendly fire that way. Still, she had more experience than he did as far as strategy went; he figured she might have a plan.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a moment then. Don’t take too long.”
He didn’t know why he did it, but as Ladybird was beginning to stand, he leaned over the table and pressed his mouth to hers. She froze against his lips, and for a second he thought she would pull away, or even slap him. Instead, she pressed forward.
The kiss remained chaste, and yet suddenly it seemed electric. The fire that burned within Idris, that same fire that had been inside him for as long as he could recall, that he had learned to master—for the most part—that fire flared without warning, turning into a raging inferno. He drew back quickly, knowing from experience that any prolonged contact would burn her.
If she noticed the sudden heat, she didn’t mention it. All she did was bring her fingers to her lips and touch them lightly.
“I won’t be long,” she said, then lower, “Be safe.”
He wanted to say the same thing to her, but already she was walking away toward the restroom, her long dress flowing around her legs like flames dancing in a fireplace. Idris couldn’t take his eyes off her until she’d disappeared. Only then did he look for the waitress to signal he wanted the check. She was already looking in his direction, but she didn’t move toward him right away. Instead, she looked toward her manager, waiting for him to motion her forward before she came over to Idris’ table.
Right. Better put a quick end to this.
Flashing her a smile that couldn’t have been more fake, he handed her a fifty.
“Keep the change,” he said. “For the friendly service.”
The deep flush that spread over her cheeks reinforced Idris’ suspicions. Her weak denial—“It’s company policy, I had no choice.”—finished to confirm them. When he walked out of the diner, it was with the certainty that he’d run into either regular law enforcement or UIPP forces right outside.
He didn’t see anyone, but he continued to focus the heat within him, ready to unleash it as quickly as needed. He was halfway back to the bike and starting to wonder if he might just get out of here that easily when four men ran from around the corner of the building, all four seemingly ready to use heavy rifles.
Raising his hands slowly, Idris stopped, the perfect image of compliance even when his mind churned, trying to decide on what to do. Two members of the UIPP stood close enough together that a ball of fire launched toward them, if it was hot enough, would hurt and incapacitate them both. It’d also affect their rifles, rendering them useless.
He could send such a ball from each hand, but the problem was that the other two men stood further apart. He could get one, but not both. If he acted now, it was likely that he would get shot. But if he didn’t…
He couldn’t go back to that cell. He just couldn’t.
“Keep your hands up,” one of the men ordered, his voice gruff and distorted by the face mask he wore in addition to a helmet. “You are suspected of being an insurgent and will be taken in for questioning. Anything you do or say might be used against you at your trial. Do you understand what I just said?”
What Idris understood was that it was all bullshit. He’d heard the same thing when he’d first been taken, but he’d been jailed without ever so much as the hint of a trial.
“What if I don’t?” Idris replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could; the hell if he’d show them any sign of fear.
“Dose him,” the same man said, addressing one of the others. At the same moment, he touched the headset on the side of his face. “Maxwell, Jones. Report. Do you have the girl?”
The shortest member of the UIPP lowered his weapon and reached instead for a pocket on his thigh, covered by a flap. Idris knew what it contained: he’d once been injected with whatever was in those syringes. It had been like being trapped in his own body, seeing, hearing, feeling everything, yet unable to move or make a sound. He hadn’t even been able to blink, and tears had started rolling from his irritated eyes. His captors had made fun of him because of it… and there’d been nothing Idris could do about it.
Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to go through that. With only three guns now pointed at him, he had his targets, and a chance to escape. His hands were already pointed palms out toward his would-be jailers. His power was focused. He only needed to—
Four gunshots resounded in quick succession. The four men screamed, each of them dropping the rifle or syringe they were holding to cradle their bleeding hands to their chest.
“Idris, let’s go!”
Ladybird was already running toward the bike, a gun in her hand and clad once more in the black uniform she’d been wearing when she stormed the jail with her friends, complete with that mask that covered her features.
He wasn’t sure how she’d come out of the diner—a back door, maybe?—or where she’d stashed the gun—under her dress, he supposed, like she was concealing her cell phone—or even where she’d learned to shoot like that, but damn if he wasn’t happy to see her. He’d been beginning to think he’d have to run off without her if she didn’t show herself right away.
He reached the bike only seconds after her. He’d pulled the ignition key from his pocket and slammed it in, launching the bike into motion before Ladybird had even closed her arms around him. The power he’d been accumulating demanded to be released, and as they passed by the UIPP, he couldn’t resist thrusting one hand in their direction, launching a ball of fire that might not be quite as hot as what he’d intended to unleash on them, but that was large enough to encompass all four.
Their screams, as he sped back toward the highway, would have been more pleasant if he’d had any idea how many more people were tracking him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Before they were out of the diner’s parking lot, Violet once more extended her feathers, covering as much of the bike and its two passengers as she possibly could. She went for black, this time, because it required the least amount of effort seeing how it was the color of most of the bike and of Idris’ clothes as well. Her left arm twinged a little, but she refused to let the pain interfere with what she was doing. Her focus didn’t matter all that much right now, but it would quite soon, and she needed to be ready.
Communicating her plan to Idris wasn’t easy. At the speed he was going, she needed to all but scream in his ear, and even when he nodded she couldn’t be sure he’d really understood. There were sirens in the distance; whether they were coming for them or for someone else, they needed to disappear. Literally.
He must have understood her directions because, when they reached the interchange where the highway crossed paths with a second one, he angled the bike toward the exit she’d suggested. She took a deep breath as they approached the overpass and pushed everything out of her mind: the sirens, the pain, the adrenaline still coursing through her after what had happened inside the diner and out, the excitement of finally having found her mate, of ha
ving him in her arms…
She’d never had to do this in the face of real danger before, but she’d trained and trained for it back in Sanctuary. Her mother had been ruthless when it came to making sure she’d be safe outside the boundaries of her domain. It was tricky, but she never doubted she could do it.
Before they reached the overpass, they were a black clad couple riding a black motorcycle. By the time they came out on the other side, they were simply gone. An observer would have needed to look very closely to see Idris’ eyes, the only part of him she couldn’t hide behind her feathers, or the bare inch or two of the wheels visible where she didn’t dare extend her feathers too close to the asphalt.
Her feathers had taken a reflective quality that mimicked whatever was behind them, depending on the angle at which someone looked in their direction. It was camouflage at its finest… but it was also something she wouldn’t be able to keep going for very long.
Idris must have noticed what she’d done because he slowed down enough to glance back at her, gasping softly when, presumably, he only saw her eyes floating behind him, like she could only see his eyes.
“Get off the highway and get back on going west,” she said, as close to his ear as she could. “I’ll keep us invisible as long as I can and hopefully it’ll throw them off our scent.”
“South,” he objected. “I want to go south.”
“Go west. We were headed south so far, so that’s where they’ll look first. I know where we can stay for a while until things calm down.”
Every part of him she could touch was both tense and burning. He shook his head.
