by fox, angie
"Galen." I didn't know what else to say.
We each stood alone for a moment, cloaked by the night. I was so scared to lose what we had. I knew without words that he felt the same. There was nothing as terrible as being torn from the one who made you whole, the one who made you feel.
He'd been alone for so long.
So had I.
"Petra." He closed the distance between us. "I didn't want to surprise you."
I leaned against him, enjoying the simple act of letting him hold me. "What were you doing in the dark?"
"Looking for you." He kissed me on the head.
I drew back, my fingers tracing the outline of his face. "I'm sorry."
For running, for struggling, for not being able to accept what he had to do.
For not being able to live up to my part.
He caught my wrist and held it. "You don't need to be sorry." He scanned the darkness behind me as hellhound barks echoed up the path. "I have something I need to tell you. Kill your lamp."
I didn't understand, but I did it. And when I'd blown out the light, he led me farther into the darkness.
"Wait," I said, "the camp is over here."
Galen glanced back toward the minefield. "Not that way."
"Why?" I didn't know what he was getting at.
"Come with me," he said, a note of urgency in his voice.
What could he possibly have to tell me that wasn't already clear?
He was going to stop this insane act of the gods. He was going to bring hope back to countless mortals who didn't even know they were about to lose everything.
He was going to die.
I walked with him. He deserved that at least.
He'd known about the Mountain of Flames before I'd ever met him. He'd carried the burden alone. Now I would at least try to share it with him.
We traveled the path until we came an outcropping of rocks. It took me a moment to realize where we were.
Stones rose from the base of the desert, washed black by the night. Some were large, with nooks and crannies big enough to be considered small caves. Others squatted like giant, bald eggs.
"So this is the rocks," I said.
Galen surveyed the area. "You told me about this place."
My heart skipped a beat. I wasn't ready. "I know what you're going to say," I told him—and what he wanted. I would have wanted it, too, under different circumstances, but not here. Not now.
"Listen." My stomach churned as my words failed. "I know you think this will make a difference, but it won't." Deep down, I was sure he understood that, too.
And while I wished I could make love to him one last time, doing it, taking that, without being able to give him the one thing he needed would tear me apart.
He stood, strong and accepting in the light of the low luminous moon. A part of me broke when I saw he'd embraced his fate. He was willing to go it alone, willing to be abandoned again, to accept this final battle as he had all the countless ones before. "Then maybe this is good-bye. I've been called to the front," he said simply. "I leave tonight."
Chapter Twenty-Six
He touched his forehead to mine. I closed my eyes. Hadn't I known this moment would come eventually? I wasn't ready. I'd never be. We stood for a moment, as the cool breeze from the desert whistled between the rocks.
His fingers glided up my neck to cup my jaw. "I promised I wouldn't leave without saying good-bye."
"Wait." I drew back. It was too soon. The starkness of it blindsided me. "Good-bye? That's it?"
He was truly willing to leave without anything else?
"That's all it can be," he said, looking as torn and wretched as I felt. "I can accept that." He caressed my cheek. "I'll always be grateful that I met you."
He glanced back at the path that led toward camp. "I've already risked too much by coming to find you." The muscles in his jaw tightened, and I saw the pain in his eyes. "They've ordered me to leave immediately."
"No." Goose bumps skittered down my arms. "It's too soon." I knew I was going to lose him. I wasn't ready yet. I never would be.
He was going to leave and he was going to die.
And this was it.
I swallowed my fear and longing, afraid it would overwhelm me. "What about..." Now that he was here and we were alone, I found I had trouble saying it. "You know…"
It poor substitute for what I really felt. I'd gotten so good at blocking out emotion. Before I met Galen, I'd existed on humor and light companionship, enough to get by. I'd been starving, living on scraps.
There were no uncomfortable questions. No commitment. Rodger never pushed me. I'd never let anyone else close. Truth be told, no one had even tried. The world was content to pass me by.
But Galen had seen me. He'd roused me.
Galen had broken through. He'd drawn me out slowly, like a neglected animal he needed to tame. He played the waiting game, letting me come to him.
He'd challenged me, protected me. He'd stirred up the kind of hope and joy and soul-deep connection that I'd never let myself think was possible. It was too raw, too exposing.
It was too late.
I wanted this man in the most elemental way. I wanted to show him how much he meant to me. I wanted to have a moment with him, a true coming together, before I lost him completely.
He ran his fingers through my hair, and the raw desire in his eyes almost undid me.
"The prophecy claimed we would join together," I said, voice cracking.
"You're talking about sex," he said, his voice rough.
"Yes." The kind of raw wicked sex that had me screaming his name. In my mind, I could almost feel our naked bodies, sliding together, aching for each other.
"Maybe if we had more time," he said, regret coloring his words. He wasn't talking about sex anymore. We both knew it.
It seared me to the core to realize that I'd squandered my opportunity with this man, that I was about to let him go because I didn't know how to keep him. I was broken on a fundamental level. Damaged in a way that I couldn't repair. Now nothing I could do would ever fix it.
I stood there knowing that I'd regret this moment for the rest of my life.
"I can't lose you." I ran a hand to his chest, searching for something I couldn't even name. "Not yet." I wasn't ready. I'd never be.
"You can never lose me, Petra." He looked at me with such tenderness, it stole my breath away. "I love you." He cupped the back of my head and his mouth came down on me and I was lost. His kiss was raw, almost pleading. I answered, desperate for his touch, for him.
He loved me. Oh my god this man loved me.
I relished the way he held me, the way his thumbs stroked the edges of my cheeks.
No one had affected me the way Galen had. He was light. He was hope. I loved that I was the one who made him groan and press tighter. This demi-god, this immortal soldier wanted me. Loved me.
Kissing him was pure pleasure, and pain. I wanted to cling to it. To live in it. To treasure it and hold it for just an instant longer.
His hands traced my spine, sending ripples of torment down to my toes. He cupped my butt and my knees nearly buckled as he brought me flush with him. I could feel him, all of him, pressing into me. It was as if we couldn't be close enough.
I needed more. Now. I unbuttoned his flak jacket, finding body armor underneath. "Take it off."
He did. The Velcro ties hissed as he tore them open, then lifted the armor up and off. A black T-shirt clung to his arms and chest.
"The shirt, too, soldier."
"Petra—" He winced.
But I pressed on. "Give me this. At least give me this."
He did. As he lifted the shirt away, I could see his scars in the moonlight. They streaked his chest and shoulder with a brute kind of beauty. Galen was a man of action, a defender of his soldiers and of me.
I touched my fingers to his scars, lingering on the jagged slice above his heart where the dagger had torn through skin and muscle. I remembered how overwh
elmed I'd been when I'd held his soul in my hands, when I'd seen his true strength and beauty for the first time.
I saved his life that day, only to lose him now.
"Petra," he murmured, drawing me up for an aching kiss. I clutched his shoulders, needing to hold on to something, to anchor myself in the middle of the storm that was Galen.
He moved to my collarbone, raking his teeth along my skin, worshipping every inch of me.
His bittersweet tenderness decimated me. It was too pure, too perfect.
In my life, I'd never experienced anyone like him. This man who believed in the impossible and was willing to die for it.
A man who knew I could save him, but didn't demand it. He didn't even ask.
He ran his hands up my sides, cupping my breasts, his thumbs against my nipples. My breasts felt heavy and I heard myself whimper. It was too much. I couldn't think when he kissed me like that. I just felt. I savored this moment and this man. I burned it into my memory.
I didn't want this to end. It was too soon to say good-bye. It was as if he teased me with everything I wanted and could never have.
"I need to go," he said, his voice low and rough.
He looked at me with such utter desolation that I wanted to hide away. My chest tightened. I wanted to run, to protect myself and him.
But I didn't this time. I allowed myself to see him, to feel him, even as it tore me apart.
"Why?" I asked. Why now? Why not five minutes more? One minute more.
He was hurting. He was in pain. This sacrifice wasn't any easier for him than it was for me. It was impossible and horrible and it was coming sooner than either of us ever imagined.
"They're looking for me."
The blunt truth of it slammed into me. This soldier, this commander had broken the rules for me. He'd lingered when
he should have left. He'd come to me. He'd found me.
He'd kept his promise.
That's why we'd hidden my light, why he'd led me in the opposite direction of camp.
I knew I needed to let him go, but I couldn't. Not yet.
Tears welled in my eyes as I braced my hands against his bare chest. "Stay for just a few more minutes." I knew I was asking too much. I didn't care. I wanted to burn him into my memory. Relish the feel of him one last time.
Give back to him the only way I knew how.
Galen always did the right thing. He served. He sacrificed. Now it was my turn to appreciate him. To caress him, to feel him, to be with him in the most potent way a woman could be with a man.
Before he could pull away and deny himself this pleasure, I kissed him. I devoured him.
I poured everything I had into that fiercely exquisite kiss, afraid to stop, because stopping meant he was leaving.
He flinched and then moaned as I ran a hand down to touch him.
Everything about him made me long to hold him, possess him, be with him for this brief moment. His readiness, his command of himself, the stark knowledge that he was like no one I'd ever known.
He worshipped my mouth as I drew my fingers up to skim along the edge of his fatigues.
He kissed me with such sweet hunger as one by one, I slipped the buttons free. Fingers trembling, I reached inside. He bucked as I found him and slowly drew him out. I touched him everywhere, ran my thumb around the slick tip of him.
He groaned as something broke free in him. Galen shoved me against the rock. He lifted away my tank top and gazed at me in wonder for a moment.
"Gods, you're beautiful," he said, as he bent to kiss the tip of one breast, then the other.
Before I knew it I was lost. He devoured me, his mouth hot and eager. I threaded my fingers through his hair and writhed against him, the ecstasy of it pouring through me.
He stripped me bare and feasted on my body like a man starved. I wound my legs around him, kissing his shoulders, his neck, any part of him I could reach.
I needed him. I was empty without him.
I loved him.
He shuddered as I slid down the rock and brought my body flush against his. I stripped his fatigues away and lifted my mouth to his. Our tongues and bodies twined, skin on skin, desperate and needy, just as I'd always imagined it could be.
His breathing grew ragged. "Wait," he said between frantic kisses.
He was ready, poised at my core. I groaned with sweet torture as the very tip of him found me.
It didn't matter anymore. I was going to lose him. This man was too noble, too brave to go off to die without knowing how much he was loved.
Beads of sweat slicked between us. "I need you," I murmured. Just this once.
"I—" He swallowed.
I found his eyes, dark with desire. "I love you."
His mouth crashed down on mine and I lost all reason.
There were no words anymore, nothing else to say. I would hold him and I would love him—even if it meant his death, I would love him.
He would leave and he would die and he would break my heart. But he would leave knowing that he was my world.
I held him as he slipped inside me with wrenching ecstasy. "Petra." His breath feathered against my cheek.
He moved slowly, deliberately, each touch deepening my desire, my painful yearning for one more kiss, one more stroke, one more moment to show him how much I loved him.
The pleasure built and I moved with him, meeting him thrust for aching thrust. I reveled in the torment, the sheer joy of having him with me, loving me.
He slid his hands down my sides, cupping my behind and driving himself harder. Claiming me. Completing me. Finding me.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. I wanted this. I wanted him. I clung to him, kissing his shoulders, his collarbone, his neck.
I felt every inch of him as he moved inside me, filling me up, declaring me his own.
He took me with an edge of desperation. His breathing rough, his kisses crushing and achingly sweet.
This was meant to be. This had to happen. It was inevitable that Galen would be mine. We fit each other perfectly.
His body wound tight. His breath came in sharp pants.
I felt him, whole and complete and mine. I matched him, thrust for thrust, and the world narrowed down our corner of the universe, our rock in the middle of a vast desert, to the sensation of our bodies joined together under the moonlight.
Gasping, we clung together as the pleasure built, swelling over until I broke apart, my orgasm rocking through me.
Galen was right behind. He gave a hoarse shout as he poured into me.
Eyes closed, we clung together as if we never had to let go. And once more, I felt the swell of the breeze, I heard the rhythm of our breathing, heavy and spent.
He touched his cheek to mine, and I felt the rough scrape of skin. "I love you, Petra."
My heart swelled. "I know."
The world might be crashing down around us but for this moment, we held each other safe.
We were cherished.
We were loved.
Deep inside, an aching part of me eased.
He closed his eyes. My heart wrenched as he slipped away. The cold breeze iced our sweat-slicked skin. Once again, I was empty and alone.
We dressed in silence. I relit the lantern. I already felt hollow without him, but I wouldn't push him anymore. We'd already given each other everything we had.
And so he took my hand, and together we walked back to camp.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Galen held Father McArio's lantern out in front of us as we wound our way through the minefield. The star cast a red flickering glow over the rocky path.
Hulking metal skeletons blocked the moonlight in many places, and I could hear scurrying from some of the banged up heaps.
The wind picked up, whistling through the debris. It bit at my skin and I slowed, drawing nearer to Galen. "This is where we saw the giant scorpions," I said as we passed the mangled ruin that had been a jeep. It seemed like a long time ago. Everything had changed since then.
I almost didn't care.
"It seems we've solved everything," I said, other than the fact that the man I love was going to die.
I hated the gods and their prophecies and the way they ruined lives without as much as a thought. Every single stinking one of them deserved a firsthand look at Hades.
We eased past the Hickey Horns bus. The old VW rattled with faint clicks and gloppy footsteps.
I didn't want to go back. I'd rather wander through a junkyard, as long as I was with him.
Put that on a Hallmark card.
I looked up at his profile in the moonlight. This would be my last time with Galen. I would always remember the feel of him next to me, his hand in mine.
As if he could read my thoughts, he stopped and stood over me. The lantern cast harsh shadows over his face. "It's out of our hands now."
He kissed me once, twice. I luxuriated in the feel of him, so warm against me. Losing him would be like cutting away a part of myself.
I only wanted one more day, one more hour. One more minute back at the rocks.
"It's time," he said, pulling away.
I nodded.
We pressed on, we kept moving. We sacrificed because it was who we were. And a part of me died when we reached the edge of the minefield and saw the lights from camp.
Galen stiffened, his body instantly at the ready.
"What?" I asked. Then I heard it, too, the faint ring of alarms.
My breath caught. "They've sounded the alert."
I began to run. The shrill clanging had gone off only once before and that was right before the bombing that killed Charlie. Kosta would only order a high alert in cases of immediate emergency or attack.
My heart beat wildly as we zigzagged through the cemetery, toward the skeletons of long-dead funeral pyres. It was the shortest route. The bells grew louder the closer we got. My colleagues scrambled over the camp like one of the gods had kicked over their anthill.
