Dark Future

by KC Klein

  I tugged on his head, needing him lower. He moaned and with startling speed picked me up and lowered me onto the blanket. He made quick work of my boots and yanked on my pants, not even bothering to undo the snap.

  I was naked. Then his body flowed over mine like rich cream into hot coffee. His mouth was hot and wet against my concave belly—then headed lower. His fingers stroked the inside of my thighs, the pad of his thumb tracing the palm-sized “S” branded into my skin. All motion stilled.

  “I’ll kill him.”

  My trembling fingers settled over his. “He’s not worth it. I’m yours now. My body’s branded with your name. Not his.”

  He lowered his mouth and kissed the mark that joined us in more ways than one. “You humble me.” His tongue bathed the scarred flesh, and then blew cool air to torment my senses.

  And from one second to the other I was embarrassed. He wanted everything. I wanted to give him my all, but I was afraid. Letting him make love to me this way exposed me, shattered my last defense.

  His gaze snapped up and pinned me with the clearest of blue. He shook his head. “No, don’t. Do this for me. I want all of you.” He pushed himself up and kneeled before me. “Kris, look at me. It’s time to trust me, time to let go.”

  “Open for me,” he said in a whisper. He brushed the back of his fingers along my thigh, caressed my hip. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. I trembled, but not with fear. The power in letting go and trusting completely had my breath coming in gasps. My back arched. Small whimpers escaped and in minutes I was bursting apart from the sheer intensity. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted him—all of him.

  I reached for him. Both of our hands met at the button of his pants. Mine frantic, his shaking.

  ConRad pushed his clothing down toward his knees, to impatient to remove his boots and be free o andth=f his clothing all together. Then he was there, above me, over me—thank you God—inside me. My legs wrapped around him. I bit his shoulder. Drew my nails down his back.

  He buried his hands deep into my hair, holding me hostage to his pounding heat. I threw my head back to the sound of my name on his lips. And the world exploded.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Hours later I lay warm and cozy on ConRad’s chest, wrapped tight against him inside his bedroll. We’d both fallen asleep, but upon waking I wished to prolong the afterglow. Tucked in a cocoon of peace and serenity, joy bubbled inside me. This was my wedding morning, none like I’d ever imagined, but I didn’t want the outside world to intrude. But the presumptuous rays of early morning sun and the insistent twitter of birds were the world’s evil reminders that life didn’t stand still, even for a time traveler.

  One moment ConRad was sleeping and the next he was up on his feet, ready for battle.

  “What?” I asked, still huddling down for warmth.

  “Shh,” he said, cutting me off with a hard hand gesture. He stood feet apart, gloriously naked and dangerous, with a machine gun in his hands, his finger easy on the trigger.

  “Commander, stand down. It’s Red . . . um, I mean 00273.” Red and Tank had gotten used to their new names during my recovery. There was a rustle in the trees and then the curly red-haired man with a full copper beard appeared.

  “You alone?” ConRad asked, not lowering his weapon.

  “No, Tank’s with me, but he doesn’t want to come out on account of the . . .” his voice trailed off but his head nodded in my direction.

  ConRad’s eyes scanned the area, then grunted his consent. He set his gun down, within easy reach and turned to dress. I pulled the covers securely under my chin.

  “We need to move,” Red said. “They’ve found the hut.”

  “Where’s Quinn?” My concern for her safety overrode my embarrassment.

  “They’re a mile or so south. We’ll meet up with them in about an hour.” Red’s eyes flicked over me nervously, then back to ConRad. Having a naked woman in his midst seemed to make him skittish.

  “The Sanctuary then. We’ll catch up.” ConRad had finished dressing and was chewing a piece of jerky. He glanced at me and flashed a boyish smile. My heart forgot its normal cardiac rhythm and hitched. He threw me a strip of chewing leather. It plunked soundly on my stomach. With resolve, I placed the dried hunk of meat in my mouth to begin the softening process. A pang of longing for a five-star breakfast in bed and a real cup of coffee—the way my honeymoon was supposed to have started off—had my eyes blurring.

  “You okay?” ConRad squatted closer to my eye level and stroked my cheek.

  But in all my wildest wedding fantasies, I never got a guy like this. I smiled my tears away and nodded.

  “Let’s go then.” He stood and started packing his gear.

  “I’m not dressing in front of an audience.”

  “Red’s gone,” ConRad said, without taking his eyes off his pack.

  I glanced around at the empty meadow.

  Within five minutes, ConRad had broken camp, and I’d barely gotten my clothes on. ConRad grabbed my hand, loosely lacing our fingers. The gesture was small, but possessive. I belonged to ConRad. I took a deep breath and swallowed. The thought still had the power to release a fresh batch of butterflies in my stomach.

  We walked over to where Red had tethered the horse for us. ConRad helped me on and then mounted behind me. We started forward at a fast walk with ConRad letting the horse pick its way through small trails that wound deeper into the forest. Birds sang cheerfully and sunlight flickered through leaves, playing across my face. I rested my head against the hard plane of ConRad’s chest and closed my eyes. I sighed. I vaguely remembered a girl who avoided the sun for fear of wrinkles. Never again. I’d lived through a night that never ended. Daylight wasn’t something I’d take for granted again.

  I could block out the world only for so long. I had to know. Gone was the girl who spent her lifetime ditching reality. Ignorance was death; it was time to start living smart. Resignedly, I opened my eyes. We were still a ways behind the group so I felt free to talk. “Who are they?”

  ConRad didn’t need to ask for clarification. He knew what I was asking. “The Elders.”

  “They found us?” I couldn’t keep the tremor out of my voice. Cold fear flooded into my veins. I sat forward, prepared to run, even if in my mind I knew it was illogical.

  “No, they haven’t. We’re still one step ahead of them. Relax, sweetheart.” His arm came around my waist and then gently pushed my head back to his chest. “I won’t let them take you. I promise.”

  His words were meant to comfort, but they didn’t. This was no fairy tale. This was real life. My body still showed the scars of how very real it was. “You can’t promise that.”

  “No, you’re right. I’m sorry.” There was a long pause, then he inhaled deeply. “I wonder if you’ll ever feel safe again.” His voice was low, as if the comment was made for his ears only.

  I wondered the same. The question haunted me ever since ConRad carried me, half dead, from my concrete cell. There was an answer—not easy, but my life had taken a complete detour from easy. I thanked the fates that I wasn’t facing him. I’d never have enough courage to ask otherwise. “There is something.”

  My tone must’ve spoken volumes. His body stiffened. The horse sped up in response to what it felt was a command. ConRad realized what he’d done, took a deep breath, and relaxed the pressure on our mount.

  “I’m not having this conversation.”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised he’d guessed what I meant. He knew me better than anyone else.

  “I’m sorry.” I really was. I never thought I’d put this burden on anyone. “You’re the only one I know who can do it.”

  At first I didn’t think he would respond, then . . .

  “Don’t ask this of me,” he growled. I could feel the muscles in his arms tense.

  “ConRad, I can’t sleep . . . couldn’t bear to take my next breath if I thought for one second that the Elders getting me was a possibility. You’re the only one
I can trust, the only one who knows.”

  His hands squeezed my arms and shook. “How do you know I can do it?” he said in my ear. “Do you think I have no soul? No heart? Didn’t I lay myself bare to you last night? Sweet goddesses, what do you think I am?”

  “Man enough.” Thick emotion clogged my throat. “Man enough, so I won’t have nightmares. Man enough, so I can feel safe.”

  “Man enough to kill you?” His voice rose, his arms lifting me and turning me so I could see the glaring pain written across his face.

  There were no tears. I couldn’t cry. The fear of capture had frozen them inside me. I had to get him to agree—to understand. “Please, ConRad, they can’t take me alive. I can’t go back there. I need to know you’ll end it before it gets to that. I need your vow.”

  His hands slid up my arms and cradled my face, his thumbs smoothing my bottom lip. “The only way they’d get to you is if I were dead. You have to know that.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not good enough . . .” I swallowed hard, knowing what I asked went beyond the bounds of humanity; it went straight to the heart of pure sin. “You need to stay alive to make sure I don’t.”

  The horror on his face shattered my heart and almost my courage.

  “Kris, have mercy.” His voice was beyond a whisper, more of a shearing rasp. He had the look of a man burning alive. He released his hold, not wanting to touch me, and then scrubbed his face with his hands. “Ahh, God, woman, you ask for the last bit of my soul. I’ll make you your damn vow, but only because I know it won’t come to that. I’ll make sure it won’t. But I decide when, not you. Understand?”

  I nodded, relief flooding through me. My body unfroze as blood began to thaw my veins. Moments of silence lengthened as I nestled back into the wall of his chest. He seemed as happy as I to drop the subject.

  “What’s the Sanctuary?” I asked, more to break the quiet than for any real concern.

  “A safe place,” he stated. Bitterness underlined his words. I couldn’t blame him.

  I doubted there was such a place, but didn’t want to question. I found that for the first time since ConRad had broken me out of prison, I didn’t have the need to plan. I’d gotten my reassurance. I trusted him.

  Within half an hour we’d met up with the group. ConRad and I were the only ones sharing a horse. Quinn and Zimm stayed close to us, and Red was in front while Tank pulled up the rear. We moved quickly, our pace slightly below punishing. We stopped only when it was too dark to travel, and by then ConRad had to peel me off the horse.

  It wasn’t better the next night, or any night thereafter. Exhausted from the riding, I would crawl from our horse to our bedroll face first. ConRad would massage my limbs and sore behind. It was the only way I could contemplate getting up and doing the whole thing again the next day. Unfortunately, it always stopped there. My honeymoon: ruined by a bunch of snoring soldiers and open sleeping arrangements.

  On the third day we left off following a river, and within an hour broke through the forest to open land. Stationed on top a small hill was a brown stone fortress. Thick walls flushed the front and extended quite a way behind, encapsulating a good portion of land. The fortress loomed two or three stories, with a rectangular tower extending, like a phallus, from the center. Double wooden doors, edged with thick metal brackets decorated the face. Brown-colored glass lined the upper levels, barred with rusted iron and thick metal pegs.

  The tree line ended close to a quarter of a mile from the stone fortress, allowing any approaching guest to be seen. Our ragtag group rode through the meadow and pulled the horses to a stop a few hundred feet from the entrance. ConRad continued to the wooden doors, and then halted our mount. We sat on the horse and waited. Trying to practice patience, I was impressed I waited a full three minutes before turning to eye ConRad. “Is this it?”

  Without answering, ConRad slipped from his horse and turned to haul me down. Reaching for my hand, we walked to the side of the huge fortress and turned the corner out of sight of the group.

  I cut a glance to ConRad’s face, which held the familiar resigned look. I knew “that look.” “That look” never boded well for me. “ConRad, what aren’t you telling me?”

  I rested my back against the coarse stone wall, while ConRad stood in front of me, his gaze assessing the open grassy area. He was always on alert, always on guard. Finally, he turned and made eye contact. “This is the Women’s Sanctuary. No men allowed.”

  “No men? Then why are we here?”

  “Kris, please, this is a safe place.” His eyes were hard, mouth in a grim line. “This is where men can bring their women. Where they can be protected. No one can hurt you here.”

  “I’ll be safe with you.” Wings of fear Wit a gla began to bat against my rib cage.

  He shook his head. “The arrangements have been made.”

  Realization was slow, but when it came, it was like a physical blow. He meant to leave me. I whipped my head back and forth.

  He grabbed my face between his hands and pinned me with his gaze. “Kris, stop. This isn’t about you. I’m not leaving you. You have to trust me.”

  “I won’t go. I’m your wife. You can’t just leave me here. You made a promise! Or do you break them as easily as you make them?”

  I heard his quick inhalation of breath, but I was hurt. To be abandoned so quickly after his declaration stung.

  His fingers bit into the sides of my skull. “Damn woman! You wield your words like a weapon. No, I don’t make promises easily, nor do I break them. Apparently, not nearly as easy as distrust comes to you. I made you a promise to protect you with my life, not to never disagree with you. But I will give you a choice. You can either walk in the Women’s Sanctuary on your own two feet, or I can carry you kicking and screaming like a child.”

  I’d seen the expression he wore before chiseled on his face. His mind was set, the decision made without my consent. “But I’m your wife.” To my shame, my voice trembled.

  He sighed and his expression softened. His fingers relaxed into a caress. So he wasn’t as indifferent to me as he wanted me to believe. “I’m not used to having to explain myself.”

  “Time to get used to it.”

  “Apparently,” his tone dry, but there was a small lift to the corner of his mouth. “We’re being followed.”

  I nodded. “The Elders.”

  He released his hold and braced one hand on the wall behind me. His head bowed as if the patch of grass between his feet held the answers to the secrets of the ages. “It’s Syon. He has a group of men. Men loyal to him and his agenda. He wants to hurt me and that means everything that belongs to me.”

  His eyes pierced mine, holding me captive as much as his physical body. “Syon will never cease hunting me, and that means hunting you to get to me.”

  Cold sweat broke out across my skin. I splayed my palms against the back wall, fingers finding the grooves in the stone. “But why didn’t he kill me when he had the chance?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Try me.”

  Then his famous sigh again. “Word got out about you, where you supposedly came from, how we saved you from the alien. And, well . . . people, people started to talk about The Prophesy and how you might be The One.

  “The Elders needed to show the people that you’re not the one to fulfill The Prophesy. They wanted to break you—control you, so they restrained Syon. But now you’re an escaped prisoner—a walking death sentence. And Syon couldn’t be happier.”

  I hadn’t thought about The Prophesy in what felt like a thousand years. I was by no means convinced of its authenticity, but if other people and the Elders were, then my beliefs didn’t matter much. Regardless, my concern right now was for my husband. “What are you going to do?”

  “Hunt him back.” His voice deep—low. And if I had blinked, I would’ve missed the flash of pure rapture in his eyes.

  For one second my confidence rattled. How precarious was the line that ConRad walk
ed, separating good and evil?

  Then my ConRad was back, gathering me into his arms and kissing me gently on the forehead. His breath shuddered slightly as he inhaled deeply. “Kris, please believe me, I don’t want to leave you. But I can’t protect you.”

  I shook my head not wanting to hear the rest.

  “You’re a liability to me. You’re exhausted. You’ve barely eaten in three days, and I don’t have a horse for you. I can’t do what I need to do and worry about you at the same time.”

  Everything he said was true. I could barely sit in a saddle anymore, but I wasn’t willing to give in yet. “No,” my voice broke. “I’m stronger than you think. Stronger with you.”

  “Kris.” He shook me again, his face mere inches from mine. “I can’t protect you. And the goddess knows that it rips me apart to admit it, but I can’t.”

  Pain clenched at my throat. I swallowed tears. “But Quinn, she’s not staying.” It was a childish plea, but I was desperate.

  “No one is trying to kill her.” His final words secured the last bar in my prison.

  I broke his gaze and took in the peaceful looking meadow and sporadic yellow and purple wildflowers scattered about.

  “You need to know that if I fail, Syon will not give you up.” My eyes cut to him at his words. “He can’t breach these walls. If he does, he’ll have mutiny on his hands, but he’ll try whatever he can to get you to leave. Kris, do you hear what I am telling you?”

  I did, but there was something about his urgency that scared me. Something I needed to understand, but my mind was too fumbled to comprehend.

  “Whatever happens, you cannot leave. You can’t leave. Even for me.” His hands cupped my face, pinning my head to maintain eye contact. “Dammit, tell me you understand what I am saying.”