Eternal Nights

by Patti O'Shea

  Holding Wyatt in such absolute darkness made her other senses sharpen. There was the gentle stroke of his fingers running up and down her back, the soft sound of his respiration, and the way her body seemed to fit against his just right. His heat seeped into her and settled between her thighs. God, she wanted him, and she was tired of denying it.

  They continued to stand silently, to listen. The henchmen didn’t give up easily, and kept searching the area for quite some time. And while the two men looked, she and Wyatt waited. Kendall wanted to sit down, but she didn’t move, even after it grew quiet. She flexed her fingers against Wyatt’s back and indulged herself in a few fantasies while they bided their time.

  It had been silent outside for a long while before Wyatt said, “Turn up the lights, Bug, and let’s see where we are.”

  Kendall obeyed immediately, then gasped. She pulled away from him and turned slowly, gaping at the sheer magnificence of her surroundings. White polished marble with the softest dove gray inclusions lined the corridor as far as the eye could see—floors, ceilings, walls, everywhere. About twenty feet away was a pillar so beautifully carved, it was a work of art.

  Almost in a daze, Kendall walked forward, her right hand outstretched until it rested against the cool stone of the column. Carefully, she traced the fingers of her other hand along one of the ridges in the pattern and felt herself calm. “Home,” she murmured, the word escaping without her consent.

  “Let’s go.” Wyatt’s voice was hard.

  Shaking off the trance, Kendall looked at him. His face was blank, but something told her he was pissed off. Deciding to ignore his mood, she pointed to the bejeweled wall through which they’d entered. “You don’t mean go back out there, do you?”

  He scowled. “No. I reckon we have a whole new section of pyramid to explore. Let’s see if we can’t find an exit in here.”

  Wyatt took her hand, linking their fingers and drawing her close against his side. There was something possessive about the gesture, and if there’d been another man present, Kendall would have thought he was wordlessly staking his claim to her.

  His pace was faster than she would have liked. She wanted to look around, to absorb every detail, but he wasn’t allowing that. This time, reminding herself that she could come back later didn’t make it easier to walk past statues and mosaics of gems. Everything here was more beautiful, more elegant, more perfect than anything she’d seen before in the temple.

  Thank God the thieves hadn’t been able to gain access. She had no proof of this, just instinct, but Kendall would bet every last dollar in her grad school fund that those bastards hadn’t looted this area of the pyramid. Somehow, some way, that pattern on her hand was the key into the inner sanctum, and no one else had it except her. Her lips curved with satisfaction. She would protect this section from anyone and everyone—even the Western Alliance and their social scientists.

  No one was desecrating this sacred place.

  *** *** ***

  Wyatt kept his jaw clamped shut so he wouldn’t say anything that would either piss Kendall off or ignite her suspicions. The damn temple was calling to her like a siren song, and though he’d fight for her, how the hell did a man battle against a pyramid? And she was so blissful to be here again. Shit.

  Berkant had been willing to settle for half of Zolianna, but Wyatt wasn’t that magnanimous—he wouldn’t share Kendall. This life, he was going for broke. He’d either have everything he always wanted with her or he’d have nothing.

  Already, Wyatt felt her reluctance to pick up her pace. He never thought it would come to this, not again. Last time— He gave Kendall a gentle tug to pull her away from a statue that looked like a lion. Last time, they’d both lost. Not again.

  They reached a large open area. She stopped, and so did he. There was light coming in, and yet if one looked at it from the outside, the pyramid was one hundred percent solid stone. Wyatt put his hands on his hips and leaned back, but it was impossible to identify what produced the fake sunlight. Lowering his gaze, he looked around, taking in as much of the vicinity as he could see.

  The atrium had plenty of greenery. The aliens had brought a lot of the outdoors into this building, but only in a controlled, manicured way. For Wyatt, the beauty of nature was untamed, not landscaped, and though he’d been fretting over Kendall the entire time he’d been outside the walls, he’d liked being away from the artificialness of the Old City.

  “Come on,” Bug said, and this time she tugged him.

  For a moment, Wyatt resisted, then decided to see where she was leading him. It wasn’t far. Toward the center of the atrium, there was a collection of platforms arranged in an arc. He counted eight that he could see and assumed that the arc was part of a circle and there’d be just as many on the opposite side. Kendall stepped up on one and he followed.

  Almost instantly, a stone balustrade rose from the floor and surrounded the edge of the raised dais. When it was at waist height, it stopped, and the whole platform began to rise. Wyatt was ready to grab Bug and leap before they went too high to get off without injuring themselves, but then he realized she was doing it. He could feel her directing the energy, using the same power that operated the lights and water within the Old City.

  Elevator. They were on the alien version of an elevator. Curious about how it was engineered, Wyatt leaned over, trying to get a better look below them. They came to a halt, and Bug grabbed his arm. “Don’t do that. It’s not safe,” she told him.

  Reluctantly, he stepped back from the railing, and as soon as he was balanced, they resumed moving. Wyatt fought the need to scowl. Kendall hadn’t remembered much of anything out in the middle section of the pyramid, but here it seemed to be a different story. There was no way in hell she could have taken one look at the collection of daises and thought elevator.

  Bug brought them to a smooth landing and the front banister came down. He was scoping out the place when she exited the platform and moved down the hall. Wyatt scrambled to catch up with her. “Damn it, don’t walk off on me like that!”

  “Okay,” she agreed easily.

  Given her absolute calmness, Wyatt felt a bit foolish for getting upset. “Sorry. We need to stick together.”

  She nodded, but Kendall was already looking past his shoulder, trying to see beyond him, and Wyatt felt his heart skip a few beats. No way was he losing her. He held out his left hand and waited until she finally took it. “Now we can go.”

  Her palm vibrated continually, but she didn’t seem to notice and that bothered him. He didn’t want all this strangeness to be so ordinary to her. He didn’t want her to slide further into the world of the temple, to discover she liked having powers, and that she wanted them as much—or maybe even more—than she wanted him.

  Then she looked at him, gave him a grin that made her eyes light up, and said, “Come on, Wy!”

  Damn, Bug was going to make him insane. From time to time, he’d wondered how Berkant could have allowed Zolianna to string him along the way she had—he had an inkling now. Hope. He’d felt it when Kendall had smiled at him and used that endearment. Had his alter ego felt that too? Had Berkant believed that if he just hung in there, he’d win his woman?

  Berkant, for a brief moment, had felt satisfaction. Zolianna had agreed to leave the temple and live with him. Wyatt, though, saw it as a hollow victory. It hadn’t been love that convinced her to leave; it had been her pregnancy.

  They walked past door after door, and Kendall showed no interest in checking out what lay behind any of them. She wasn’t allowing herself to be sidetracked from some destination. As much as he hated this newfound confidence, Wyatt knew she had to get them out of the temple. He’d lost track of the days, but he was sure they were running out of time to warn Major Brody and his family.

  Kendall turned right when they reached an intersection, and quickened her pace down the long hallway. At the end was a set of double doors.

  When she reached them, Bug pulled her hand free and pushed
them open. Then, before he could do more than grasp the fact that they stood in front of a massive indoor garden, Kendall grinned at him. “Dinner is served,” she told him, then darted inside the chamber.

  He followed slowly. Wyatt almost laughed as she shifted from foot to foot, clearly wanting him to hurry. As soon as he reached her side, she tried to skip off, but he snagged her elbow and drew her back. “Hang on, darlin’, don’t be so dang eager.”

  Her stomach growled, and he did laugh then. Kendall wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m hungry.”

  “Me too, but I want to look around.”

  From his vantage point, it seemed as if this indoor farm stretched across the entire side of the pyramid. The doors they’d entered through appeared to be directly in the center. To the left was an orchard filled with different kinds of Jarved Nine fruit trees. To his right were rows of crops. In front of him was a large fountain that had a smaller version of the temple at its midpoint. Water flowed down from the capstone. All around it was a smooth stone shelf that matched the ivory marble of the fountain. It was the perfect place to sit and relax.

  Kendall’s stomach growled again, and he nodded. She took off into the orchard and he followed, making sure he kept her in sight. She picked a variety of fruit, and when she had her hands full, she handed him her haul. Wyatt had his own arms loaded before she was satisfied.

  They returned to the fountain. Kendall set down the fruit she held, then shrugged off her bag and left it on the floor. “You know,” he said when he sat near her, “we haven’t had food in days. We can’t eat too much too fast or else we’ll get sick.”

  “I know.” She bent forward and opened the flap on her messenger bag and started stowing some of the harvest inside. “I picked enough to take with us if we want more later.”

  As they ate, Wyatt tried to figure out how this whole indoor garden was possible. Given the way the Old City took care of itself, he had no problem with the idea of crops growing indoors, but he wondered at their cycles. Shouldn’t there have been fruit and vegetables that had ripened over the last three thousand years? Shouldn’t they have fallen to the ground and formed some kind of mulch? And yet there was no sign of this. It was as if everything had simply waited to be picked, held in some kind of weird suspended animation. It left him unnerved.

  Not Kendall, however. She lay back on the bench, knees bent, feet near his thigh, and happily munched on a purple kahloo as the fingers of her left hand played in the water.

  Watching her eat aroused him. She was just messy enough that he wanted to lean over her body and lick the juice from her lips. When their gazes met, she smiled, and Wyatt felt it deep inside his heart. Yeah, she was going to drive him plumb loco, there wasn’t a doubt about it.

  Kendall finished eating, but she didn’t get up, and he was content to watch her. For the first time in days, Wyatt was able to relax. They were safe here; he knew it even if he couldn’t recall any details about this section of the temple from his other life.

  His body clock told him it was late afternoon already, and if they stuck to their usual schedule, they’d be stopping for the day soon anyway. Wyatt had plans in mind for the night, plans that involved staking his own claim on Bug—if she were willing.

  She plucked her hand from the water. “You’re staring.”

  “Just enjoying the view. You’re beautiful, darlin’.”

  Some of her easiness left her face, and Kendall sat up. “Yeah, right. My hair is beyond gross, my face will probably break out after not being washed for so many days, my clothes are limp and they reek. I’m sure I’m downright gorgeous.”

  He stood, grabbed the straps of her bag, and held out a hand to help Bug to her feet. “I’ll carry this; it’s heavy,” he told her. “And you are beautiful even when you’re a mess. Heck, I’m no better off than you are when it comes to being clean.”

  “It doesn’t bother you, though, the way it bothers me.”

  “I’m used to it.” Wyatt shrugged. “I was out in the field for three months before I came to J Nine. There were no regular showers and no chances to shave or change clothes.”

  She didn’t reply, and Wyatt followed Kendall’s lead again. They went past the lift they’d used earlier into a tighter circle of platforms. There were only a handful of the things here. He and Bug were in the very center of the pyramid now, he was certain of it. He stepped on the dais with her and glanced around as she took them to a higher level.

  They walked down a hallway, past a series of doors spaced a fair distance apart, then up a flight of stairs. There was another wall covered with gemstones and it was extraordinary—by far the most elaborate, richest-looking inlay he’d ever seen.

  Bug looked it over, found the symbol she wanted and opened the wall. As he trailed her inside the room, Wyatt struggled to hide his reaction. He remembered this place from a thousand dreams. They were in Zolianna’s suite.

  “Let’s spend the night here,” Kendall suggested.

  “Sounds good to me.” But his mind wasn’t on the question. He was flashing through dozens and dozens of memories, recalling the eternity of nights he’d loved her here.

  Taking the bag from his grip, she set it on the low table in the seating area and wandered away. He followed her, coming to a dead stop in the bedroom. There, in the corner, was the calling glass that Berkant had given Zolianna just before she’d entered the temple. Had Bug seen it? Did she notice how closely it resembled that wind chime she had hanging outside her home?

  Kendall returned before long, but she seemed oblivious to the textured pieces of glass. “I found the bathroom,” she told him with a grin. “I’m going to take a shower, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Wyatt said thickly, still affected by his thoughts. He cleared his throat. “I want a shower too.”

  “Why don’t you use one of those rooms on the floor below this one? Each has its own bath, and that way you won’t have to wait for me. I plan to camp out in there for a while.” Kendall smiled at him. “You don’t need this,” she showed him her right palm, “to enter any of those chambers.”

  “Makes sense,” he agreed, but only because he was positive they were completely safe here.

  “Good. I’ll leave the hall door open so whenever you’re done you can come back inside my rooms.”

  Kendall danced away, humming under her breath, but Wyatt didn’t move until he heard a door deeper inside close. Damn it to hell, this suite belonged to Zolianna, not Bug, and he didn’t like that she called this place hers.

  *** *** ***

  There was one thing Stacey hadn’t taken into account when she’d decided to stay with Ravyn and her husband, but she should have thought of it—Alex was as welcome in their home as she was. Agitated, she paced from one side of her room to the other. Oh, sure, Ravyn and Damon tried to run interference for her, but they hadn’t told Alex not to stop by and she couldn’t ask them to. Because of this, she never knew when she was going to step outside her bedroom and find him around somewhere.

  She didn’t know how he managed it, since there was no question about the amount of time he was pouring into his job. If he’d been working sixteen-hour days before Cam was hurt, he must be putting in twenty hours or more now. Yet he still had time to stalk her. Alex called it courting—an oddly old-fashioned word—but Stacey thought it more closely resembled a siege.

  This bedchamber was her one refuge, but she knew if Alex decided to come in here, nothing would stop him. She supposed she should be grateful he’d allowed her this much space, since it showed respect—if not for her, then at least for his sister and her husband—but Stacey had a feeling that this sanctuary might not last indefinitely. Sullivan played to win, period, and if he had to breach her room to achieve his goal, he’d do it without hesitating. And without caring about the consequences.

  He honestly amazed her. Cam had been hurt less than forty-eight hours ago, and it hadn’t even been a day before she’d begun to feel like prey. Alex always had a good excuse for his presence. He
needed to investigate the crime scene. He needed to ask Ravyn some questions. He needed to talk with Cam. But no matter what he said or did, his focus—his intensity—was squarely on her. It was unnerving, to say the least.

  Bemused, Stacey walked to the window, leaned her shoulder against the wall, and gazed outside, but the view didn’t hold her attention long—she’d seen the square in front of the so-called royal residence too many times—and her thoughts returned to one of her chief concerns. Who had hurt Cam and why? He was practically a baby, for God’s sake! Luckily, there’d been no permanent damage, but a blow to the head could have killed him.

  Damon was livid, and whoever had hurt Cam better hope he was arrested—by someone other than Alex—before the boy’s father got his hands on him. Or his mother. Ravyn was just as furious.

  And Stacey understood that desire to protect, to defend, in a way she never had before. This amazed her too. She hadn’t expected to feel so fiercely maternal so quickly, but it was there. She was outraged at what had been done to the toddler, but she knew if it had been her baby, she would be beyond infuriated.

  Her stomach growled, and Stacey sighed. She was going to have to risk running into Alex if she wanted dinner. When she realized that she was actually considering skipping a meal to avoid him, she frowned. She wouldn’t let him affect her like this; it gave him too much power over her. Straightening her shoulders, she strode from the room.

  And lucky her, Alex was camped out in the main gathering chamber. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, and Stacey silently berated herself. She wasn’t going to moon over him; she refused. Time after time she’d reached for him emotionally, and he’d never cared enough to reach back. Not even once.