by Naomi Martin
“I’m glad you’re feeling more like your old self again,” he says.
“Me too.”
Our mouths crash together again, our tongues doing a slow, sultry dance. Zane slips his hands beneath my hoodie and slides them up my back, his fingertips leaving furrows of fire upon my skin in their wake. He grips my hair and pulls my head back, kissing and nipping my neck, making me shudder. My heart thunders inside of me and my entire body vibrates with desire.
I pull Zane’s shirt off of him and run my hands all over his body. His skin is smooth and cool to the touch, his muscles hard and taut. He feels like a chiseled piece of stone beneath my fingers. I lean down and bite his shoulder, then slide my tongue up his neck and finish by giving his ear a nip. He smiles and presses his mouth to mine again, nearly stealing my breath with a passionate kiss.
Zane slides my hoodie and the T-shirt underneath it off in one smooth and swift motion. He cups my breasts, gently kneading them with his long fingers, lowering his mouth to me. His lips are soft upon my neck and his breath is warm. Goosebumps march across my skin as I lean into him, savoring the feel of his hands on me and his mouth on mine.
I feel his rigid length pressed against me and I feel myself growing wet as I kiss and bite his neck. He runs his fingers through my hair then takes a handful again and yanks my head back, drawing a low groan from my lips.
Zane takes hold of the waistband on my yoga pants and I climb back up onto the top of the table as he tugs them down my legs. He sets them on the bench next to him, then stands and pulls his own pants down. With a smile on his perfect lips, Zane draws me back down onto his lap. Our mouths find each other again as I grind my wetness against his thick, hard staff.
I move up and down on him, his shaft sliding between my slick lips, teasing my swollen and sensitive clit, sending sparks of fire shooting through my veins. Our tongues dash against one another, the flames inside of me building. Zane parts my velvety folds with the head of his cock and I slide down on him, biting my bottom lip hard as I savor every glorious inch.
I settle down on top of him, reveling in the sensation of him filling me up so completely. He looks into my eyes as I slide my hands to his shoulders and hold tight as I start to move, sinuously, on top of him. Zane’s mouth finds my breasts, licking and nibbling on my stiff nipples as I ride him, feeling like my veins have been filled with liquid fire.
Pleasure explodes in me as his thick staff slides along my inner walls. He kisses me fiercely, the passion in him building. I bounce myself up and down on him, crying out softly as he hits that sensitive spot deep within me. Zane slides his hands down to my ass, gripping and squeezing it tight as I thrust myself upon him with a wild abandon.
My body is taut, every muscle inside of me clenching tight. As I move harder, I hurtle toward the precipice of ecstasy. I want to draw this out and take my time with Zane, but it feels too good and I can’t stop myself. Gripping his shoulders, my nails digging crescents into his flesh, I thrust myself down harder on him. Zane grunts, his own body tensing beneath me.
I drive myself down, holding him deep inside of me, and I throw my head back, a loud, quavering cry bursting from my mouth as my orgasm crashes down over me. Zane holds onto me, pulling me down onto him and looks into my eyes as I shake wildly. It takes a moment before I feel like I’m able to breathe again.
I press my forehead to his, the last vestiges of my orgasm making me twitch. I give him a cockeyed smile and a peck on the lips.
“That was amazing,” I gasp.
As if I weigh nothing at all, Zane silently sets me on top of the table and parts my thighs. He leans forward and buries his face between my legs, plunging his tongue deep inside of me. I grab his hair, yanking on it hard as he eats me, his tongue flicking across my clit and sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through me.
Zane slips his tongue back inside of me, his eyes locked onto mine as he licks and laps at me with zeal. He takes my button between his teeth and I yelp as he nips it firmly. His long, dexterous fingers find their way inside of me as he continues nibbling on my clit, my entire body awash in powerful sensations.
He plunges his fingers into me again and again. I grip his hair as he nips my button, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. My breathing is ragged and I’m shaking hard. Zane is bringing me to the brink once more—and quickly.
“Zane. Oh God,” I stammer.
I grip his silky white hair in my fist, yanking on it viciously as I writhe beneath his fingers and tongue. And then I feel weightless, as if I’m on the giant downslope of a massive roller coaster. My belly flutters and I can’t breathe. But then I explode inside and scream his name as I come. And as I do, Zane keeps working me over with his fingers and mouth. He licks and bangs me, prolonging my orgasm and making it even more intense.
I slowly—and reluctantly—come back to myself. Zane sits up with a wicked smile on his face, his face glistening with my juices in the dim moonlight. He gets to his feet and I pull him to me, kissing him hard as my body continues to echo with the remnants of bliss. His tongue swirls around mine and he kisses me languidly for a moment.
When he pulls back, the naked desire on his face takes my breath away. Reaching down, I grab hold of his staff, my body filled with nothing but desire and the need to have him inside of me. Zane nestles the tip of his cock between my lips, slippery with my arousal. He presses himself forward, burying himself to the hilt, and I watch as his length pierces me.
I lean up and bite his shoulder as he stretches me open, and a feeling of near euphoria washes over me. He drives his tongue into my mouth as he starts to pump his cock into me, both actions combining to steal my breath. I close my eyes and throw my head back, basking in the electric tingles that envelop my entire body.
Zane moves harder. Faster. He pounds himself into me, losing control in a way he so rarely does. I hold onto him, my nails digging into the flesh of his back, drawing a sharp hiss from him. His eyes are locked to mine, making our connection even more intense, heightening the sensations that are gripping me.
I see him clench his jaw, the veins in his neck standing out. He’s swelling inside of me, and I know he’s close. Locking my ankles behind his waist, I thrust myself forward, meeting him as he drives himself into me, our bodies crashing together in a steady rhythm.
Zane squeezes his eyes shut as his body grows taut. His muscles ripple beneath his skin as he moves, slower and more deliberately than before. He’s trying to hold off, but as I feel him pulse, his cock swelling even more, I know the battle, for him, is lost. I kiss him hard and pull him to me, needing to feel his body pressed to mine.
A moment later, he lets out a low groan, and erupts. I gasp as I feel his warm, sticky seed rushing into me, filling me up. My entire body locks up and my every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire as Zane comes inside of me.
We cling together, my arms and legs locked behind his body, both of us trembling, as we ride out the waves of ecstasy together. Zane looks down at me, a smile curling the corners of his lips upward, and I feel my own lips forming a smile in response. He leans forward and kisses my forehead, leaving a lingering warmth upon my skin. I feel completely safe and protected in his arms. Like all of my boys, Zane loves and cares for me in ways I never thought I could. In ways I’m profoundly grateful for. And in ways I never want to lose.
As I cling to Zane, the cold reality of the situation I’m in slaps me in the face. I’m speeding toward a mission that I have grave misgivings about. I haven’t told Dora I’ll do it, but I know in my heart that I’ve already accepted the assignment. And it’s a task I’m not sure I’ll be coming back from.
I look up into his eyes and Zane offers me a gentle smile, as if he knows what I’m thinking—and what I’m feeling. And, in his eyes, he’s letting me know he will always have my back, no matter what I decide. It’s something he doesn’t have to say. I already know. And it’s something I can’t express my gratitude for enough.
“I’m scared,” I murmur.
&n
bsp; “I know,” he replies and pulls me to him tighter. “Just say the word and the four of us can leave. We can disappear. Go anywhere in the world we want.”
It surprises me, only because Zane is never one to back down from a fight. No, he’s one who seems to look for a fight, who needs it and enjoys it. He believes in what we’re doing every bit as much as I do—that this is a fight that absolutely needs to not just be fought, but won.
That he’s willing to cut ties and walk away from it—for me—sends a lance of guilt straight through my heart. I can’t have that on my soul. I won’t. Walking away is not an option, was never an option. Neither is losing. If we don’t win, we’ll be enslaved or eradicated. Of that, I have no doubt. And that is something I absolutely cannot have weighing down my soul. There’s too much weighing it down already.
“It sounds wonderful, but we can’t,” I finally whisper. “We have to fight. Not just for us, but for everybody like us. We can’t let Villa win. We won’t.”
He plants a soft kiss on the top of my head. “No, we won’t let him win,” he says softly. “We will fight. And we will win.”
I continue clinging to him, wishing I had his confidence.
Chapter Nine
Raven
“Again,” she says.
I blow out a long breath and wipe the sweat from my brow. It took me a day and a half—and more exploded rats than I’ll ever admit to—before I realized I needed a teacher. Or, at least, somebody more familiar working with Spirit. Kayla is a Spirit Elemental we pulled out of a convoy a few weeks back and, for the life of me, I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask her sooner.
On the positive side, at least the rat problem around the hotel has been significantly curbed.
“Again,” Kayla repeats.
“Just… give me a minute.”
I take a long swallow of water and give myself a moment to relax. This is harder than I thought it would be. Using Spirit takes more focus than anything else I’ve done. It wasn’t even this difficult when I used it on the collars back at the Pit. But using weaves this thin takes a steady hand and concentration. Right now, I feel like I’m being asked to run a marathon when I haven’t worked out in years.
When it comes to using elemental power, I’m not an expert. I’m learning a lot as I go, and I’m picking things up here and there. But even somebody as largely untrained as I am knows that for delicate work, it’s imperative you use thin weaves. Thin weaves offer you more precision. Control. Thicker weaves are a brute force attack… like blowing a truck off the road with a weave of Fire.
But to still somebody’s heart and leave no trace? You need a thin, delicate thread. It’s the difference between doing open heart surgery with a scalpel versus a machete. And to do that properly, you need to be able to focus. Concentrate. And you need a high degree of control over your weaves. Which is something that is proving pretty damn difficult for me.
I sit down on a stool I brought into the derelict warehouse I’ve been using to practice. It’s dusk outside and through the gaps in the ceiling, I can see the fiery red and orange streaks in the sky. It’s like blood and fire stretching across the heavens.
I look over at Kayla, who’s spinning weaves of Spirit together, almost making a spiderweb out of them. It’s an intricate and beautiful design that obviously takes a lot of focus and ability. Yet she weaves them like they’re nothing. Child’s play. Eventually, I’d like to be as adept at weaving the energy as she seems to be. I’d like to be more surgical and precise, rather than the blunt chainsaw that I am right now. Use a bit more touch and finesse than brute force.
“How did they catch you?” she asks. “I mean, given your abilities, I wouldn’t think they’d be able to.”
I stuff down the pain that’s rising like a dark, malevolent tide within me as the memories parade through my mind. I see the faces of everybody I’ve lost and have to bite my tongue hard to keep the emotional pain at bay.
“After Colonel Villa killed my family, I escaped. Lived on the streets with a friend of mine,” I tell her. “Eventually, they tracked us down and killed him to get to me.”
Kayla falls silent for a moment and lowers her eyes. She looks like she feels guilty for asking and dredging up my pain all over again.
“What about you?” I ask, forcing a smile onto my face. “Any dramatic and emotionally overwrought tales to tell?”
She shakes her head. “No. They showed up and my parents handed me over. No muss, no fuss.”
I sit back and let her words sink in. To be handed over by her own family has to be screwing with her head. Maybe that’s why she’s so timid most of the time. I mean, I can see some similarities between her and Zane, whose mother turned him over when she found out what he was. Zane has always been quiet and remained aloof. He’s had a difficult time opening up to people, let alone being able to relate to them. And I can see the same qualities in her.
“Have you ever killed somebody before?” she suddenly asks.
A frown touches my lips as I nod. “I have. This is a war, Kayla. It’s… expected,” I tell her. “You?”
She shakes her head. “No. Not me,” she replies. “I’m not much for… fighting. I’ve never used my powers to hurt anybody before. And I hope I’ll never have to. I don’t know that I could, y’know? The guilt would eat me up.”
I shrug. “Like I said, this is war. And eventually, it may come down to you choosing to act, or somebody you know and love—or even yourself—being killed if you don’t.’
She gives me a faint smile. “Well, I hope it doesn’t come down to that. I’d rather be the one healing others. That’s where my strength is—patching wounds and bringing comfort. That’s where I can do the most good.”
I nod. “That’s fair.”
In that moment, I realize that I know next to nothing about Kayla on a personal level. We’ve talked a few times, though not about anything too deep. One thing I have noticed, though, is that she seems a bit mousy. Timid. She seems too shy to take that step toward making friends, and nobody has really gone out of their way to befriend her. I guess I didn’t, either. Not until I needed something from her, and when I asked, she jumped at the chance.
Her eagerness to help, and her almost desperate need for human contact and friendship, made me feel like an asshole. Like I was taking advantage of her or something. Hell, maybe I am. But it’s not like I don’t have good reason.
Kayla’s a few years older than me, with dark hair and eyes. She’s a little bit shorter than I am, and she has a curvy little body the men around here would probably kill one another for, if they noticed her at all. Like I said, she tends to fade into the background. I think some people take her aloofness as a sign of her being stuck-up. But, in reality, she’s just shy. I’ve heard few of the other girls talking and they think it’s because she’s beautiful. But I think Kayla is genuinely one of those girls who doesn’t realize how gorgeous she is.
She’s not conceited, she’s just quiet. And, as a result, she doesn’t have very many friends around here—which is a shame because, so far, she seems like a great girl. I’ve found her to be a really sweet girl. Smart. Compassionate. Easy to talk to. Maybe she’s as much the friend I need, as I am the friend she needs. Her teaching me to use Spirit aside, I can see myself being friends with her.
Although, given the back-breaking, rigorous-as-hell training she’s putting me through today, I may be revising that opinion. She’s a brutally tough taskmaster.
“Tell me something,” I start. “Where were you before we hit the convoy? Where were they keeping you?”
She sits down on a box near me but continues playing with her weaves. The glowing white tendrils of energy flow and cross over one another, creating a design that’s gorgeous and complex.
“At first, it was somewhere down south. Georgia, maybe,” she tells me. “I was there for a while before they moved me to somewhere in South Dakota. I think they called it the Pit.”
My heart nearly stops dead in my che
st and the blood in my veins turns to ice. Surely, I couldn’t have heard her right. I turn to her.
“D-did you say the Pit?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah,” she says with a nervous laugh. “And let me tell you, that place really lived up to its name.”
I sit back, stunned by the news. Kayla looks at me, her brows furrowed and a small frown creasing her lips.
“What is it?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just… the boys and I, we were all locked in the Pit, too,” I tell her.
“Well, it’s not that stunning of a coincidence,” she chirps. “I’m sure they don’t have that many facilities where they hold us.”
I nod, feeling numb. “Yeah, but when we broke out, I thought we destroyed the place. I mean, we did some serious damage.”
She looks at me with something close to awe. “Wait… you’re that girl? The one who… oh my God, I didn’t realize you were her.”
I can’t help but laugh. The way she talks, she makes it sound like we’re superheroes or something, when we were just people desperate to escape. Nothing more, nothing less.
“People talk about you in there,” she says, her voice almost reverent. It makes me cringe. “The stories they tell—you’re kind of a legend.”
“Hardly,” I reply. “I was just somebody who wanted to get out of there.”
“And somehow tamed three men in the process,” she adds with a wink.
I laugh again. “There’s nothing mystical or supernatural about the four of us. We just have a very unique connection.”
“Yes, you certainly seem to,” she says. “I had a hard time with one boyfriend at a time. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be with four guys at once. Kinda seems like something sort of cosmic… maybe even a little bit supernatural to me.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “It’s unusual, I will grant you that. But that’s about as far as I’ll take it.”
My relationship with the boys isn’t something I even really think about anymore. It just is. They’re as much a part of me as my own skin. I guess it’s just so natural to me anymore that I forget how it looks to outsiders. To me, it was almost like fate drew us together somehow. We were all just in the right place at the right time and found each other. I never stopped to think there was any sort of a mystical bond between us or anything like that.
