Gyre (Atlas Link Series Book 1)

by Gunn, Jessica

  I studied his profile. He either had a hell of a poker face, or he really was that oblivious. The light in the room caught the stubble growing along his jaw and cheeks. It gave him a sense of ruggedness he hadn’t had before, making him look like a man instead of the genius guy I’d met. He’d been a man all along, but for whatever reason, now, in light of a poker game and Julie’s victory, I noticed it for the first time.

  My breathing grew shallow as my eyes locked onto Michael’s hand as it trailed up Julie’s thigh, just low enough to remain decent. My mind skipped to thoughts of Trevor’s hands on my skin, the way he whispered in my ear, the feel of his breath on my neck and chest. My stomach tightened, heat pooled somewhere lower. I wanted him. Bad.

  He raised an eyebrow. I’d been made. “What’s so fascinating about my face?”

  Julie giggled and said, “Gee, I wonder.”

  Was I that obvious? “2 a.m. shadow looks good on you, that’s all,” I said, smiling.

  He grinned and took my hand in his, rubbing his thumb on the inside of my palm. His light touches tickled. It felt so good, so intimate, in spite of how small the motion really was. It was like his thumb encircling my palm held me together, and I’d fall apart if he stopped.

  Everyone but Trevor and I left for bed. Coffee had been a terrible idea. Caffeine whiplash stirred with thoughts of Trevor while we wandered to the room I still, technically, shared with Valerie—though, I hadn’t seen her in days—me a jittery, giggle-filled mess the entire way.

  I glanced at him when we came to a stop outside my door and rolled my eyes. “Why’d you let me have coffee?”

  “Because I know better than to tell you no,” he murmured as he leaned in and kissed me.

  Something caught his eye in the window on the door. He drew away and glanced through. Valerie stood, brushing out her hair. Her tablet sat perched on her dresser while she read.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t go in there in your… current state,” he said.

  I followed his eyes. “You mean my caffeine high?” Not a great idea with Valerie on edge lately. “Guess it’s to the Lounge for me. Too bad you can’t make me a game profile. I’d probably beat The Race in one sitting right now.”

  “Probably,” he agreed. He grabbed my hand and spun me toward the Lift, setting off another round of high-on-life giggles. I loved the way he always made me laugh, like all my troubles left the second he entered the room.

  “Where are we going?” I asked him.

  He didn’t answer until the Lift doors shut, then he jerked me to him and looked deep into my eyes. Need danced a duet with longing, and the lights from the Lift pirouetted in his ocean-blue irises, like sunlight on the tops of waves. Seeing the ocean reflected there felt like the outpost did: like home and safety. I snaked an arm around his neck and crashed his lips to mine.

  He didn’t respond at first—shocked, probably—but then his lips moved with abandon. The butterflies in my stomach evolved into fireflies, lit with a low buzz. Swarming. Igniting. He pulled me in closer, tighter, and nuzzled his nose and lips on my neck. His scruff tickled the sensitive skin there. Goosebumps road up my arms with every kiss, every nip. I moaned softly, unable to keep the reaction to myself.

  “What was that about 2 a.m. shadow?” he asked, smile pressed against my skin.

  I chuckled a heady laugh. “Trying to dig my way out of being caught.”

  “You know,” he said between kisses, “Julie’s not the only one with solo quarters.”

  I moaned and reached above us for one of the handholds. Warmth bloomed in my chest, misting lower and lower the longer our embrace went on. He smelled like Irish Spring soap and clean air. I pulled his face to mine and kissed him again, like I needed his touch to breathe. To be whole. I needed him in order to be whole, and he knew it.

  The Lift dinged and we broke apart for the walk to his quarters, but only enough to be decent if we ran into anyone. We made short work of the distance between the Lift and his door, and as soon as his door shut, I slammed down the privacy screen.

  His fingers fell to my uniform, ripping the zipper down with a confidence I didn’t know he had. Every touch lit my skin on fire so that every layer of clothing was too much, too heavy, too constricting. Like I’d spontaneously combust if I didn’t cool down. I yanked off his uniform top, leaving only the t-shirt beneath. He tangled his hands in my hair, and we kissed again.

  My fingers skipped down between us as his tongue grazed mine, exploring, tasting. He was already hard, and he grunted as I massaged him through his pants, rocking his hips into my hand. He ambled backwards to his bed, tugging me with him like if we waited any longer he’d lose all control. I straddled him, my knees dipping into the mattress, as his lips fell to my neck. His nose trailed a methodical path, paving the way for his lips and teeth as he kissed and nipped his way from my collarbone to my neck.

  I gasped as goose bumps sprouted in his wake. His fingers slipped beneath my top, inching up my stomach and chest, thumbs swirling in tiny circles. His touch, reverent and adventurous, drew a chill down my spine. Fuck. No one had ever touched me like this, as if they were in awe of my body, of everything that I was. I swallowed the insecurity and lifted my shirt above my head, sure it’d catch on fire from my skin if he didn’t remove it himself. Trevor hooked his thumbs beneath my bra-straps, brushing them aside and pushing down the cups. His eyes raked over my chest, studying every part of me. I’d never felt more vulnerable, so open and naked, like his eyes saw past skin to my very mind and soul.

  He lifted his eyes to mine. “You are amazing.”

  I smiled, but I couldn’t keep self-doubt away. Did he like what he saw? Had he slept with someone more attractive in his past? Stupid thoughts. Stupid, stupid thoughts. Every move he made, every look he gave, held nothing but love and admiration.

  He kissed me again, strong hands cupping my face, chasing away all doubts. His mouth found my neck, leaving kisses on every available centimeter of skin. He whispered in my ear, “You’re beautiful, more than I thought possible.”

  And fuck, no one had ever said that to me before. No one had made me feel like this before. I drew his lips to mine, enjoying that every part of me snapped to attention where he touched. Alive. Electrified. Trevor simply brought me to life, had from the beginning, in every single way. He’d become everything, a lifeline, my first love, in a matter of weeks. And here in this moment, I entrusted him with that power forever.

  His excitement rose between my thighs. Heat pooled where he rocked against me, hard and purposeful. I ground down onto him, biting my lip in a smile at the groan it elicited from him. I brushed my fingers along his cheek, trying to get across in gestures what I couldn’t in words, the desire and love I had for him. I slid my fingers under his shirt, lifted it from his body, and replaced my arms behind his head. I toyed with the small, barely-there curls at the base of his neck as he nipped the skin beneath my collarbone. One side to the other, then lower. An ache grew where his excitement met mine and in an instant, this wasn’t enough.

  Skin. I needed more skin, nothing between us. A physical connection to match the one we’d already made, the one strong enough to bring me across the world to him. I pulled him to me, foreheads pressed together, and reveled in the closeness of us. Our breathing ragged. Fingertips restless and wandering. But I’d lost the upper hand I craved.

  I pushed his shoulders until he lay down flat on the bed beneath me, and I relieved him of the rest of his uniform—and mine. We became a whirlwind, a gyre of frantic, lust-filled motion and passion, filled with sensations and emotions I’d never imagined possible. Constantly moving, always exploring. Teasing. Touching. Fulfilling.

  I fell asleep on Trevor’s chest, listening to our racing heartbeats fall into peaceful sync.

  Trevor

  aking up with Chelsea in my arms, her breath warm against my bare chest, was the best feeling I could ever remember having. I wrapped her in my arms, aching to never leave this moment.

  She looke
d so different asleep. Her wild flare disappeared, leaving calm, almost angelic features. The difference struck me hard, and I pulled her closer, emotion constricting my throat. Dr. Hill would take her away, make her some kind of soldier, and never, ever would I lose her to Thompson and my parents. But I’d still lose her to them, to TAO. She’d be gone.

  Right here, right now, this was the Chelsea I wanted to be with. The wild side, the quiet side. Powers there but not used for anything other than teleporting to me. I could no more now envision her the soldier from my parents’ stories than I could weeks ago when Valerie insisted Chelsea were Atlantean. Chelsea may be a firecracker when awake or on stage, but she was no soldier.

  And I love her. The thought startled me, but it wasn’t a surprise. I was destined to love her from the night we first met. She was my freedom from myself, this war. My hope. My happiness. She was my everything. And no matter what happened next, I’d fight for it. For this. For us.

  She stirred beneath me, her eyes fluttering open. My breath caught. Yes, I definitely loved her. The thought made me grin like an idiot, and, for the first time in a long time, my mind flew, all responsibilities and anxieties gone. Last night had sure helped with that, too.

  “Morning,” I whispered, sliding hair out of her face with a finger.

  Her eyes flitted up to mine, and she smiled. “Hey.”

  A comfortable silence enveloped us. For once, no radio interrupted.

  “Last night was fantastic,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I replied. The control she gave me, that power I’d given her, twisted my lips into a grin. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected—I’d been nervous as hell—but I was glad it had happened.

  Chelsea lifted up to kiss me. Then her eyes bugged out.

  I tensed. “What? What’s wrong?”

  She pointed to my alarm clock. “It’s already eight!”

  Shrugging, I said, “Oops.” I didn’t have anywhere to be for another hour.

  “Yeah.” She climbed out of bed, laughing as she pulled a sheet around her. “Oops.”

  We showered and ran to the Dining Decks for a quick breakfast. Dr. Hill waited there for Chelsea, a pen in one hand and coffee in the other.

  “Good morning, Dr. Hill,” Chelsea said.

  He looked up and waved. “Good morning, indeed. About ready to head over? My team from the Army will arrive in a few days.”

  Chelsea frowned. “Why so long?”

  She wanted to get cracking on the find, on the things she couldn’t help with, but Dr. Hill had probably told his team to hold off while he assessed the situation. Part of me wondered if they waited because he wanted to see if my family would act first. Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn’t. Chelsea shouldn’t have to wait either way.

  “I wanted them to pick up some texts for translating before coming here,” Dr. Hill said. “Besides, anything with the military takes a lot of time and red tape.”

  Chelsea frowned and sat at the table. “Guess that makes sense.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dr. Hill said. His eyes leveled with mine. “The find isn’t going anywhere. It hasn’t for thousands of years.”

  Yeah, buddy. We both hope nothing happens to it. But today, outside the warm, cozy world Chelsea and I had created last night, anxiety resumed its clawing.

  Dr. Hill stood. “Shall we, then?”

  “Morning, campers!” All three of us turned to watch Dave’s mock salute. “Christa can’t leave her post today. So, you’ve got me instead.” He crossed his arms at his chest.

  “Glorious,” Chelsea said dryly. “What do you even know about archaeology and linguistics?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Dave admitted. “But I can pilot a shuttle, and I’ve been there with you before. That’s once again good enough for the Captain.”

  “Of course it is,” I said. “Have fun.”

  Chelsea’s eyes met mine, and she gave me the warmest smile I’d ever seen. Her hand sought mine. I gave hers a squeeze, as much for my own benefit as hers.

  “Lunch?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

  They left, and I headed toward Engineering to prep for bridge duty, my stomach churning like never before.

  For once, nothing was amiss in Engineering. In fact, it wasn’t until I’d wandered up to the Bridge Deck an hour later that I noticed something was off. The air buzzed with electricity, raising the hair on my arms. It hummed, felt alive. Maybe Humming Bird had decided to work correctly for a change. Or maybe an intern had broken my system again.

  As I slid my keycard through the scanner outside the Bridge, a low rumbling reverberated in the air. Deep vibrations pulsed around me and inside my bones. I hesitated. What’s going on? Three big booms resounded from the deck above me. I ducked down, cowering against the wall as a fourth and fifth boom sounded, rattling the floor and walls.

  “What the—”

  The Bridge doors swung open, like someone reversed their hinges, then kicked them down. Smoke from broken gaskets consumed the area. I stumbled away from the open doors, blindly backtracking to the Lift, out of harm’s way. Someone tugged on my shirt, yanking me into the hallway. Smoke seized my lungs. Another man stood in front of me, hand held out. Gun. He’s got a gun. A shiny, deadly gun.

  “Long time, Mr. Boncore.”

  Thompson.

  Panic flooded my body, tensing my muscles for fight or flight. I fought against his hold. How’d they get in?

  Explosions. The electricity in the air. They caused Humming Bird to malfunction. They got in thanks to the shield malfunctioning.

  Thompson, my old boss and my mother’s right-hand-man, glimpsed the realization in my eyes. “Don’t worry; it’s still working. Sort of.” He chortled and barked orders to his men to overtake the rest of the crew before returning his attention to me. “You’ll be coming this way.” He gestured towards the Bridge. Shouts and screamed echoed out the door, followed by gunshots.

  A cough wracked my lungs as his crewman shoved me forward, parading me into the command center of SeaSat5. I struggled and kicked and shoved, but this dude’s arms didn’t budge. His feet never lost a millimeter of purchase. He was strong. Super strong. Like Thompson. Like Chelsea.

  How many of these assholes have powers?

  Bigger things to worry about.

  The Bridge had been wrecked. A station or two sparked and flamed. Some of the Bridge staff huddle in a corner, pressing uniform pieces onto the injured, providing pressure to wounds. Blood spatter marked the floor, some stations, and the command platform in the center. The Commander. He was among the wounded in the corner, but rather than taking care of himself, both his hands occupied rags for others’ injuries. Freddy and Christa sat toward the back, with three of Thompson’s men guarding them all.

  My eyes swung up to a hole ripped into the ceiling. Above us stood the domed off room where SeaSat5’s helicopter sat on its pad. They came in through the heli-dome. Shit.

  “Let them go,” I told Thompson. “This isn’t—”

  “Should have thought about the crew before you kept your mouth shut, boy.” He set his gun on a nearby console then gestured to me with an open palm. “Go ahead. Make any necessary adjustments to keep this rig running until we hit port.”

  My heart stopped. “Which port?”

  His smile gleamed of something evil. “Home.”

  The Security Office door off the Bridge burst open. Captain Marks charged in, gun pointed. Resignation shown in his eyes even as he shouted at Thompson. He was outnumbered. His ship had been taken over. His crew was out of commission. Now, he himself was caught. Struggle seized the Captain’s face, jaw muscles taut, eyes flicking about.

  No. He couldn’t give up that easily.

  With my guard distracted by Captain Marks, I stood up quick and reached for the gun holstered on his belt. I slipped it out of the holster and fumbled with the weapon.

  “Hey!” Thompson shouted.

  Ignoring him, I flicked off the safety. A g
unshot rang out across the Bridge, and Captain Marks yelled. A bullet whizzed past my ear, damn close to my face, and sunk into the wall behind me.

  “I won’t miss next time, Trevor,” Thompson said. “Put it down.”

  I locked eyes with the Lemurian brute. His jaw was locked, head cocked to the side, waiting to see what I would do. My lungs scrambled to bring in enough air to fuel the fire inside. If I didn’t make a stand now, Chelsea was as good as dead. The whole crew was. All Thompson wanted was the artifacts and the station to get them back home. He didn’t need the crew if he had half a dozen men of his own.

  But I’d never shot a gun in my life, and dammit if I missed the shot, he’d shoot me dead. No question about it.

  He doesn’t need you.

  Besides, I wasn’t any good to Chelsea or the crew dead. And as one of the very few people onboard who knew exactly what we’d found ourselves in, getting killed was immeasurably stupid.

  No matter what I did, Chelsea would still be in danger.

  I swallowed my pride and any control I had over the situation as I unfurled my fingers. The gun tumbled to the ground. The metallic echo as it landed rang throughout the Bridge.

  Thompson nodded to my guard, who slugged me in the gut.

  I bent over as a gasp slammed its way into my lungs. I barely remained on my feet. Son of a bitch.

  “Now you, Captain,” Thompson said.

  Captain Marks charged forward again. Thompson’s men were quicker. But instead of fighting them, the Captain set his gun on the floor of the Bridge. He’d surrendered, too.

  I held my breath while Thompson’s men slapped cuffs on him. The Captain’s eyes settled on me, asking without words why I wasn’t also restrained, deducing I was somehow involved in all of this. My chest constricted. I should’ve let Dr. Hill take Chelsea and just given Thompson the damn Link Pieces days ago.

  “We go way back,” Thompson supplied in the silence. “Don’t we, Mr. Boncore?”