by KC Klein
“He’s leaving. For good.” Her hands rested lightly on her knees as she stared into the flames.
A black sickness rolled in my stomach at her words. He was leaving me? “When?”
“Soon.”
I nodded at her answer, but my palms were slick with cold sweat. I swallowed hard. The air was suddenly thin. I never thought he’d actually leave. Hate me—yes, never talk or touch me again—fine. But to abandon me?
I leaned over and picked up some roasted rabbit meat lying on a stone slab. Since my recovery, I’d been ravenous. One night I absently made the comment I preferred rabbit meat to squirrel. Afterwards there was an unlimited supply by the campfire.
I gestured toward the food. “ConRad?”
She smiled. “We think he almost eliminated the entire rabbit population in about two weeks.”
I nodded, not liking what the implications were. I tried to logically sort out my feelings. I tried to calm myself with the platitude that I’d be alright.
He’s leaving.
I shook my head. I’d never been afraid of being alone before, but a sticky, black sensation had me hunching over my stomach, arms wrapped around my middle.
I couldn’t deny the truth; it was too bold, too ugly. I never gave him a chance, never even let him speak. He told me in no uncertain terms if I used the microbiotics on Zimm, he’d no longer be able to protect me. But I’d made my choice regardless, thinking I could handle the consequences. And now I was alone. “If I asked, do you think he’d stay?”
Quinn didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. I could feel her censure. She thought . S-usI’d pushed him too far. Maybe I had.
I bit on a ragged thumbnail. Over the last week ConRad had avoided me even more than I had him. I needed a way to make sure he couldn’t ignore me when he got back.
I saw his bedroll across the fire. Apprehension rose in my stomach as an idea formed. How weak did this make me?
I should just let him go. It was simpler.
Something deep inside tore at the thought. A silent scream vibrated against the walls of my gut. I rushed over and slipped between the blankets. I needed him just a bit longer. When I was stronger, I’d let him leave.
“What are you doing?” Quinn whispered furiously.
“I have no bloody idea.” Maybe this small gesture would be enough. Maybe I wouldn’t have to ask.
Quinn shook her head. “You’re playing with fire.”
I couldn’t help but agree. I just hoped I could survive another burn.
I rubbed my face into the cool cloth of the pillow and drew the covers up to my chin. I hadn’t expected to fall asleep, but the scent of him—musky, woodsy, male—calmed me, made me feel safe, taking me to a place where my dreams couldn’t follow.
A rough hand shook me awake. ConRad loomed above. Concern etched in his brow, the fire throwing gruesome shadows across his face. “Are you alright?”
A bit groggy, I had a hard time following his question. “Umm . . . yeah, I’m fine.”
“Good.”
He bent, took hold of the edge of his bedroll, and pulled . . . hard. I flew through the air and tumbled to the ground.
“Hey . . . ,” but before I could stand and brush myself off, he had his bed secured and pack on. “What are you doing?”
No answer. Typical. He turned and walked out of camp.
“Wait a minute. Dammit. Just stop for a second. We need to talk.” I tried to keep my voice down, but panic bordered the edges.
He ignored me, his form quickly being swallowed up by the night.
Did I have to chase him? Seriously? Crap. I didn’t chase well. And I was nervous. It was so damn dark out there.
I threw on my boots in record time and ran after him. “ConRad, please, I just want to talk.” Couldn’t he make this easy?
“I’m done talking.”
Breathless, I jogged after him. Damn, he moved fast, but I had to keep him in sight. “Okay, then I’ll talk.”
“You’ve said enough, thank you.”
Not good. “I think you took the whole ‘head on a platter’ comment wrong. I didn’t mean it literally, but more in a metaphysical, slash, artistic, slash, humorous way.”
He whipped around, glared, and took a few menacing steps in my direction. Dried leaves crunched underneath his booted feet. Then I took a few menacing steps . . . back.
“That—is exactly what I’m talking about. Everything’s a joke, a . . . what do you call it . . . sarcastic response. Nothing’s serious. This,” he gestured, pointing to me, then himself, “is not a joke. This is serious.”
I didn’t want to get into whatever was between us. I just wanted us to go back to camp, so I could fall asleep with the knowledge that he was there, watching me. But I was fast running out of options as he turned and stalked into the night.
“Alright, so I did mean it literally. But I take it back. Your head looks great, right where it is.” I was getting tired of running after him. Chasing sucks.
ConRad stopped; with a resigned sigh he dropped his pack and turned to face me. “Fine Kris, let’s talk.” His voice infused with steel. “Say what you need to say and be done with it, because, God only knows, there’ll be no peace until you do.”
He waited for my response, his eyes the most uninviting ice. My throat went dry—the sides st뀔t seuck together. My hand splayed against my collarbone. I was supposed to ask him something. Maybe this wasn’t the best time. “I just wanted to say . . . um” Don’t leave. “Umm . . . thanks for getting me out of there.” Don’t leave. “Out of prison, I mean.” Don’t leave. “And, well . . . I owe you one.” Please. Don’t. Leave.
“Fine.” He turned, picked up his pack, and walked away.
I poured my heart out—kinda, sorta, in a roundabout way—and he was just going to walk away. “Fine? Fine! Is that all you have to say?”
“I’m not the one who wanted to talk,” his said, voice low, back toward me. “I don’t have anything else to say.”
Anger had me clenching my teeth. My fist knotted at my side. “Fine. Go ahead and go.” I turned to head back to camp, but true to form I had to have the last word. “Coward.”
As soon as the words rolled off my tongue, I regretted them. I sucked in a breath and readied myself to turn and apologize, but didn’t get the chance. ConRad was on me like fire to fuel. He grabbed my arm and swung me around so fast that my feet left the ground.
“What did you say? Did you call me a coward?” he roared, his face mere inches from mine, nostrils flared, eyes fiery blue.
I swallowed hard. Staring down the beast inside the man was never easy, but I’d grown some claws myself.
He grabbed both of my shoulders. “I went to Hell and back for you. I lost friends. Good men trying to get you. I sacrificed everything, my career, my freedom, my life, my . . . honor.” The words were spoken as if metal burrs shredded his tongue. “Now I’m sentenced to live like this . . . like a criminal.” He shook me so hard that I thought my neck would snap.
I shook my head, pleading. “I didn’t mean it. Please, I was stupid . . . angry.”
He talked over me as if I had said nothing. “Since the moment I saw you mere seconds from the alien’s claws, I’ve given everything I had to protect you. And at every turn . . . every sardonic turn,” he shook me again, “you’ve resisted me. I told you what to do with Zimmion. I told you there were consequences, but you didn’t listen. Instead you lied to me. You knowingly lied to me.ont>
The man of few words had hoarded them to hurl at me all at once.
“And you call me a coward.” He sneered, and a wicked laugh had the hairs on the back of my neck stiffen. “You’re the biggest coward I’ve ever met. You think I don’t know? You talk in your sleep. A lot. Why are you out here, Kris? What’s got you so scared that you’re willing to run to me?”
I couldn’t go there. Wouldn’t go there. “ConRad, I don’t know what you’re talking about? I just—”
“Oh no, you wanted to talk? Let�
��s talk, princess. What happened to you? And don’t tell me prison. You were screwed up before then. Having nightmares back at the compound. Screaming about blood on your hands. What happened?”
I wedged my hands against his chest. “Shh, don’t talk to me like that. I don’t—”
“I don’t. I won’t. I can’t. I am SO bloody sick of your whining. Talk to me about being a coward. You’re so damn scared; you’re a mess. What do you want, Kris?”
I shook my head and tried to break free.
“Where’s my mommy?” His voice rose in imitation of mine. “Do you know you screamed for your mommy over and over like some pathetic child? The men were nervous, thinking you’d lost your mind. The only way I could shut you up was to rock you on my lap and whisper calming nonsense in your ear.”
His words were like a slap, stunning and brutal.
“Liar! Liar!” I pounded his chest with my fists. He wouldn’t do that. I’d never let him, never need him like that.
He ignored my blows, invaded my space, and shoved his face in front of mine. “Oh, I’m a liar now, huh? I’ve been nothing but honest with you, but you’ve lied to me from our very first meeting. About who sent you here, about Zimmion, about how you feel. About knowing more about The Prophesy than you’ve let on.”
I was scared now. Real fear had invaded the fluid around my spine—owning me with its power. “I don’t know how I feel.”
He laughed, white incisors flashed. “You’re such a liar, Kris. a ls" heighYou’ve lied to yourself for so long you don’t even know what’s true. Guess what? It’s truth time.” His voice was rough, boarding on ugly. “What happened to you?”
I whipped my head back and forth. “ConRad, please! Shh.”
Tears burned, I blinked them back. I needed a different tactic. Reaching up to his face I pulled his mouth to mine. The kiss was bruising. I couldn’t tell who was doing the punishing, me or him.
He jerked his head back. Eyes threw shards of ice. “Oh no. I’m not going to let you push this away with sex—let you cower from your fears. You want to screw so hard so fast that you can forget. Well, I’m sick of this game, sick of you pushing me away. We’re having it out here and now. What happened to your mother?”
“Shut up!”
“You think I don’t know? Say it.” His fingers bit into my flesh. “Goddamn it, SAY IT.”
I broke. Red exploded in my brain. A sharp-knifed pain drove to the base of my skull. “She blew her head off. She killed herself in her bathroom, and I heard it.” I screamed the words in his face. “Heard the gun. It was so damn loud. And I found her. Found her. Is that what you want me to say? Pieces of her on the white tile. I tried to put the bits of skull and brain back inside her head. Scooped them up like a puzzle and tried to fit them in place. And I couldn’t save her. After all that I couldn’t save her!”
Tears streamed; my nose ran. My hands were fisted in his shirt. Fabric ripped beneath my fingers. “Screw you! Is that what you want me to say? That she never said goodbye. That she freaking left me! LEFT ME! My mother left me when she promised. Promised that she loved me!”
I fell sobbing to the ground, sharp rocks imbedding in my knees. He followed, holding me tight to his chest. “And then YOU were leaving me. You wanted to leave me. How could you ConRad?”
“I love you.”
“Shut up. SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP. Don’t. Lie. To. Me. You were leaving. I saw you turn your back and walk away.”
“I wasn’t leaving. Not really. I would’ve been back. Even if you didn’t chase, I would’ve been back.”
“LI#00div heiAR!” I screamed. My hands fisted in his ripped shirt and pulled it tight around his neck.
“Marry me.”
If he took a gun and shot me, I would’ve been less surprised. I crumpled and buried my face in his lap. “You are so cruel. Why are you so cruel? Don’t say that to me. You can’t mean that. Nobody can. I know what I am. I know. I’m damaged at best, broken at worst. You can’t want me.”
Silence. The truth was out. I said it. I didn’t lie. For once I didn’t lie.
“You’re right.”
A kick in the face. A knife in my heart. I looked up. He was giving up on me? That was it?
He laughed. And it wasn’t that hoarse laugh I’d heard before. But one that came from the heart, one that came from a place of joy. “You’re such an insane mess, but you’re a beautiful mess. You’re my beautiful mess. I’d never let you go.”
I wiped my face with the back of my hand. I didn’t know how I felt about being called a mess or crazy. “Well, you’re no bed of roses yourself.”
“Atta girl.” He smiled at me.
A few words of praise and my skin hummed. We were inches apart. His hands moved over my neck, his thumbs stroked the underside of my jaw. And then I knew. He filled the emptiness. Made it smaller, easier. And I was okay.
“I love you.” I rushed the words not wanting to lose courage. My declaration hung heavy in the air, but my relief was greater. Finally, my heart was laid bare, there were no more secrets. “It’s the first time, you know. I never said it before.”
The liquid blue in his gaze burned hot as it trailed slowly down to my lips. “Me either,” he whispered.
My lips opened in invitation. Hunger flared in his eyes; my only warning.
He crushed his mouth to mine—open and wet. He drank from me like I was his personal savior, and I let him. I opened myself to him, dropping all my barriers, exposing as I’d never done before. No more games. This was real.
I ran my fingers through his hair—finally, yes—and grabbed on for leverage, pulling closer, grinding my hips to his. He sucked on my tongue, drawing me into his mouth, then pulled back, gently biting my lip. The taste of him—so unique it branded and claimed me as his forever.
ConRad groaned deep, the sound resonating on a primal level within me. His hands cupped my bottom and traveled lower to stroke my heat. I moaned, resenting the clothes that separated us. He grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. I wrapped my legs around his back.
Our hips meshed and ground together, an inciting tempo that only we could hear. He pushed up my shirt, exposing my breasts to the chilled air. They puckered instantly. His mouth, hot and wet, pulled on one nipple, creating a heat that seared a path from his lips to down deep between my legs.
His mouth was brutal, sucking, pulling, nipping. Emotions rippled off him, and I felt them like they were my own—punishment, redemption, need. Ah God, the need—it hovered on the edge of pain. Tears flowed unhindered. I loved this man. I wanted to take all he had to give.
ConRad’s mouth came back to mine, crushing, forcing his way in. The saltiness mixed with the musk of him and created an aphrodisiac for my palate. ConRad must’ve tasted my tears. He pulled away and gazed at my face.
His breathing was ragged. He touched his forehead to mine and rested. I could feel him fight for control. A deep sigh. An illusion of calm. Then he caressed his cheek against mine, brushing my tears away. His lips—quiet, gentle—kissed me. His eyes leveled with mine, and I saw ConRad. Gone was the wall of solid steel he had forged around himself for protection. And inside was a man, a man who had never loved, one who had never been loved before.
ConRad trembled.
I understood completely. Vulnerability is terrifying. The complete exposure of one’s soul is gut-wrenching.
ConRad broke eye contact and nestled his face against my neck. It was too much. He wasn’t ready to go there with me yet. I stroked his hair as one would a small child. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” he shook his head. “Give me a moment.”
I nodded, trying not to let the pain of his withdrawal show in my face.
Instead of walking away, ConRad reached for his pack and undid his bedroll. He spread the blanket on top of dried piop walne needles and fallen leaves, and knelt down. He raised his hand and clasped mine, tugging me toward him. We knelt there facing each other, my hands wrapped in his, resting both on
his heart.
The lines on his face deepened, furrows creased his brow, his eyes simmered. “I pledged my protection to you once before and failed. So I pledge the only thing I have left: my life. As an exiled man I cannot legally ask to be your husband. But with God as our only witness, I devote myself, my heart, my soul, my life to you until the day I die.”
His chest heaved. Hands shook as they clasped mine. “Do you accept?”
My breath hitched. In the span of a quick inhale I was humbled. I didn’t deserve this fierce, strong, proud man. “You asked for honesty and I gave you lies. Lies that almost killed us both. I make a vow to you that from now on only truth will be between us. I give you my heart, my soul, my life until the day I die. Please, ConRad. Let me be your wife.”
He sighed, just a whisper, but I heard it down in my soul.
This powerful man wanted me. Amazing.
My hands trembled as I lifted my shirt. Most of my cuts and bruising had healed. Only along my ribs was there a slight yellowing.
He traced my colored flesh with the pad of his rough thumb. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh—no more. All that’s behind us now.”
No more hesitation. His shirt fell beside mine, and he gathered me into his arms.
The skin-on-skin contact rushed through me. My breath came in shuddered gasps. My nipples hardened, pulse quickened. His arms were strong and corded, his strength barely contained below the surface. I felt his stomach quiver against mine.
I skimmed my hands over his biceps and shoulders, up his neck, and rested one hand on each cheek. The feel of his week’s growth of beard was rough and slightly painful to my sensitized skin. With my thumbs I outlined his lips, full and slightly parted. His mouth opened more and gently teased the pad of my thumb and then soothed the skin with his tongue. I was mesmerized by his mouth—white teeth, pink tongue. A groan formed deep in my throat. I wanted that mouth on me—my lips, my breasts, my everywhere.
A rush of heat sent my attention, my want, my need there. I needed him there.
I pulled his mouth closer. His tongue mated with mine mingling our tastes—metal, musk, heat.
He broke the kiss, locked his hands in my hair and arched my back, offering my breasts up like the sacrifice on an altar. His mouth sucked one peaked nipple and then the other, sending currents straight to my center. I rubbed myself against him, needing friction, needing relief.
