Liquid Lies

by Hanna Martine

  A new rush of blood raced for his crotch and he fell on top of her. The hard mattress didn’t give her up. He felt all of her beneath him, every curve, every bone, every movement. She met his mouth halfway, their mouths grinding together like teenagers making out in the backseat of a car minutes before curfew.

  He’d been ready for this in Manny’s, when she’d teased him about the museums and he’d actually been truthful with her. When she’d smiled at him and laughed. When she’d told him to break a guy’s leg and then stood there to watch it done.

  This woman…yeah, she was more than a body. She was the one with the hammer who’d shattered his wall and destroyed the Retriever, the sorry-ass dog.

  Her fingers tickled his waist as she fumbled at his shirt. “Take this off.”

  Gladly. He pushed off her and whipped off the T-shirt, tossing it somewhere far away. Gasping, she came up on her elbows and gaped at his chest. “Wow,” she breathed.

  He knew what she saw. The vine tattoo originated on his left shoulder. The mass of leaves and twirling stalks tangled down one arm, across most of his chest, and trailed down his ribs. She liked it; he could tell by the glint in her eyes and the not-so-subtle clue of her fingers snapping open her jeans.

  He watched her, breath snagged somewhere halfway up his throat, as she slid the jeans from under her fine ass. She was taking too long. He reached over and yanked them off her long legs. The palest light coming through the window made her skin gleam. Her underwear was bright white and sat low on her golden hips. The flat place between her hipbones begged for his mouth.

  She sat up and reached for his zipper, but he was a step ahead of her. He toed off his boots, ripped open the fly of his pants, and pushed them down and off. The hunger he saw on her face couldn’t possibly match what he felt. No way.

  Sliding a knee between her smooth thighs, he came back over her. Elbows outside her shoulders, he allowed himself a gentle touch and smoothed her hairline with his thumbs. The gesture seemed to startle her, and she jumped. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw a new sheen of tears draw across her dark eyes, but then it was gone and he was kissing her again.

  His hands drifted to her ears, then her neck, then her chest. Something crinkled in her bra. Something sort of papery. Didn’t matter. All he cared about was that she still wore too many clothes.

  He flicked the zipper on her sweatshirt, started to draw it down. She swatted his hand away. “No. Just fuck me.”

  A melting glacier slid down his back. His lust snapped in half and crumbled to the floor. He shoved away from her and staggered back.

  It didn’t matter to her who he was. It could have been Xavier groping her, his cock halfway home, and she would have taken it. Anything to get her to forget, right?

  Wow, did he feel like a fool. He deserved it, though. He deserved that sick feeling of wanting everything from someone and in return only being wanted in part.

  Gwen blinked up at him, confused. Then she sat up in horror. “Reed. No. I meant…”

  He plucked his jeans and boots from the rug and straightened, throwing a hand between them. “I know what you meant. What you wanted.”

  “I want you.” The words seemed to shock her. She even touched her swollen lips.

  He paused, his body straining to get back to her, his mind dragging him in the opposite direction. “Think about what you just said. Then look at where we are. And ask yourself what you would believe if you were me.”

  Though it took every ounce of power he had, he gave her his back and retreated to his bedroom.

  EIGHTEEN

  The hard knock on the other side of the bathroom door jolted Gwen from sleep.

  “You up?” Reed sounded gruffer than usual.

  Maybe if she buried herself deeper under the blanket and pillows, he’d think she was invisible. Forget about her. Yeah right.

  He pounded again. “Gwen, get up.”

  She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to be here. Didn’t…

  “I’m coming in.”

  The door flew open. From inside her bed cocoon, she lifted a corner of the blanket and watched him stride across the floor. He stood at the edge of the mattress, a steel mask for a face.

  “Up.”

  She was the worst kind of fool: the kind of person who knew she was doing something idiotic and did it anyway. Reed wasn’t the same guy she’d wanted to sleep with back in Manny’s. He never would be. What the hell had she been thinking last night? That she could erase the pain of thousands of Tedrans and Ofarians by fucking the guy who’d kidnapped her?

  They needed her, not her orgasms. She was immature for thinking sex could be any sort of cure, however temporary, and beyond embarrassed that she’d attacked Reed and demanded what she had.

  She pulled the covers down to her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

  The headboard seemed to fascinate him. “Forget it.”

  Forget what exactly? That he’d grabbed her as eagerly as she’d jumped him? How his stubble had rubbed her skin wonderfully raw? The tattoo that spread organically across his skin and the fact that he was beautiful in the most dangerous sense of the word?

  Stop it. She tried to hate him again, to get back the emotion she’d thrown away last night. He’d done the right thing by refusing her. Nothing good could come of them being together like that. The memory of his mouth and hands on her narrowed the focus of her senses to only him, and she couldn’t afford that.

  She sat up, holding the blanket high on her body. “It started off as one thing and turned into another.”

  He cut her off with a slice of the hand. “I’m taking you somewhere today.”

  “Where?” Only one place was possible: Genesai.

  Now the lamp in the corner had his attention. He shrugged. “Not my business to know.”

  Of course. Twenty-four hours ago she would have spit those words back at him. Tried to make him feel guilty for how he’d ruined her life. Only now she knew the truth. Now she was grateful for his ignorance.

  Or was she? Because now she couldn’t hide behind loathing him. His presence in a house full of Secondaries compromised any chance she might have of escape. She couldn’t risk exposing herself to him. Maybe he really had volunteered to stay to make sure she was safe, but what good would that do now? Gwen was as good as dead no matter if he stayed or not. And because he was more deeply involved, he’d never be free either. He’d be a perfect witness for the Primaries when the Ofarians were discovered. He could go on TV shows, write a tell-all about his intimate encounters with the aliens. Make millions. Maybe he’d love that.

  What an ugly, ugly mess.

  “You have five minutes.”

  “Are you going to tell Nora? About last night.”

  His shoulders rolled back, down. “No. I won’t say anything. That wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

  She sighed in relief and the blankets fell to her lap. He was in the middle of turning around, but he froze. A dark, scary look cloaked his face.

  “What are you wearing?”

  She looked down and pointlessly tried to cover her chest with her arms. All that did was push her boobs tighter against the gray T-shirt. Reed’s T-shirt. The one he’d been wearing when they met.

  After he’d left last night, she’d thrown off her clothes in disgust, as though they were the things that had twisted her focus. His discarded shirt had lain crumpled by the lamp, still warm from his body and holding his distinct scent.

  Now he stared down at her, looking like he wanted to rip it from her body, and not just because she’d taken it without asking. His lazy gaze traveled from her shoulders down to the T-shirt hem stretching across her bare thighs.

  His long legs brought him to her in three steps. He loomed above her, much like he had last night in all his fearsome beauty. A shudder skittered through his breath.

  Touch me again. Push up this shirt. Slide inside me and take what you wanted to last night.

  When he went to one knee before her, he
r fingernails dug unconsciously into her ankle. Her lungs refused to work. Only his eyes moved. They dropped to her mouth, and it watered in response.

  He thought he was so good at hiding his desire, but she recognized the tight coil of his arm muscles and the little clench in his jaw. She’d seen them last night, moments before she took his mouth and gave him hers.

  She recalled the disconcerting moment when, in the midst of their wild, hungry, half-naked clawing, he’d draped himself over her and cradled her head. Dragged featherlight fingers over her hair and face. Kissed her with an aching tenderness that switched the area of highest intensity from between her legs to her chest.

  There was none of that in him now. Only hardness. Only duty.

  He leaned in, an animalistic twist to his mouth. She gasped, wondering—and perhaps fearing—if he intended to give her what she’d wanted last night: sex that was hard and fast and devoid of any emotion except anguish. She no longer enjoyed the prospect.

  He edged even closer. Her mind swam dizzying laps in a turgid pool.

  Then his hand opened, and in his palm lay the syringe and the nelicoda pill. “Pick one.”

  Her arm still burned from where the needle had punctured yesterday. Keeping her eyes on his, she snatched the pill and popped it in her mouth. She moved to get up, maybe torture Reed a little by walking to the closet in only his T-shirt, but his fingers clamped on to her arm.

  “Swallow it.”

  The rolling thunder voice made her shiver. Made her imagine another situation in which he might say that.

  She looked past him, out the triangle window to the glittering lake surrounded by frosted mountains and trees painted in orange and gold. Using her tongue, she pried the pill out from where she’d stashed it next to her gums and gulped it back dry. The pill lodged in her throat then finally slipped down. She opened her empty mouth and circled her tongue.

  Reed’s hand slid from her arm and he rose gracefully.

  “Five minutes?” she choked out as he walked away.

  “You used up time with your little show-and-tell.” His back was still to her. “Now you have two.”

  A silver Range Rover waited in the drive. No white van, no blindfolds, no funky handcuffs with leashes. Apparently, Reed didn’t think he needed those. Cocky jerk.

  And Nora wasn’t exactly the trusting type, especially of Primaries. So why the freedom? What made her believe that Reed wouldn’t double-cross her?

  “Where’s everyone else?” Gwen asked.

  “Ran out of here like bats out of hell this morning. Nora was supposed to come with us but I guess she got called away.”

  She hadn’t expected him to answer. That was a lot of information she wasn’t sure she should have. Gwen looked to the east. Something was wrong in the Plant. Not much could rip Nora away from her chance to sit in on Gwen meeting Genesai, but her people could. Was it a problem with the Tedrans? Or the Ofarians?

  “You’re mine today,” Reed said. “Don’t think because she’s not here that it’ll be easier going. I have orders.”

  She thought he’d say something like that, but it barely registered. Her mind was on the Plant.

  Reed pressed her into the Range Rover’s passenger seat. She settled on the black leather, the interior warm from the sun, and debated all the options that had been thrown at her yesterday at the rest stop.

  Translating Genesai’s speech would align her with Nora. Ignoring him would send the government dogs on a Secondary fox hunt. Either way, innocent Ofarians would know a fear they’d only imagined. Secondaries would die. Everything came down to today. Everything depended on her.

  She bent forward and buried her face in her arms. Reed slid behind the wheel and pressed buttons on the dashboard. A British woman’s voice began a navigation sequence.

  “Sit up,” he said, toneless. “Put your belt on.”

  How nice of him to consider road safety. She straightened and pulled the seat belt across her body, clicking it down by her hip. Her eyes refused to face forward, however, and drew a long, slow line over Reed’s body.

  Those thick thighs spread over his seat. He wore new jeans, like her, but he still wore those beat-up, ankle-high workman’s boots she’d noticed in the alley a few centuries ago. The black fleece coat stretched across his chest and arms, one of which draped over the top of the steering wheel, the other throwing around the stick shift.

  She’d seriously screwed up.

  BLN—Before Last Night—she could easily chalk up her desire to the Allure. Now she knew what he tasted like, how his hard muscles felt beneath his skin. What that tease of a tattoo had turned into.

  What had he said to her before? That he knew what her breath sounded like when she was turned on? Well, now she knew that about him, and every time he exhaled, she found herself focusing on his mouth, wanting to hear it again.

  Appalling, that thought, that she still wanted the guy who had stolen her then claimed to want to keep her safe. The guy who’d shoved her away and treated her like chattel. If she could slap herself, she would.

  Now, though, his mouth was set in a tight line and he looked so determinedly forward she imagined him in a neck brace. He gunned the engine, his legs working the clutch and the gas to start the steep climb up the drive and out onto the road.

  A heavyset man with a mangled ear and two missing fingers exited the driveway guard hut and circled around to Reed. As he checked out the display on Reed’s watch, Gwen watched Reed assess the guy. She could tell without any verbal interaction: the guard, too, was a Primary.

  Nora was a fool, to trust that money could buy loyalty. Her army consisted of Xavier and Adine. Xavier was damaged and volatile, and Adine was…hmmm, Gwen didn’t really know what Adine was. Smart, definitely. Observant and careful. Shy, even. Odd traits for a kidnapper. Gwen had sensed a Secondary signature when Adine came around, but it was strangely weaker, as though masked or incomplete.

  So Nora had been forced to hire Primaries to help. Where was all this money coming from? This sort of thing was Reed’s job. Gwen had noted his Cartier Chronograph watch. Clearly the guy wasn’t charging his clients minimum wage. And by the way he’d appraised the mean-looking guard, she guessed the fingerless guy with the gun operated on the same side of the law as Reed. Those types would need a pretty penny to stay reliable.

  Nora was walking a fine line. Gwen filed it all away and kept her mouth shut.

  For the next hour and a half, the British woman in the navigation system did the talking.

  The Primary world lined the four-lane road snaking around the lake. Gwen watched it go by with a hand on the window. At a stop sign she tried the door handle. Locked, of course. No amount of pressing the lock mechanism worked either. Beside her Reed made a little sound like he was insulted she’d even try.

  He veered off the main avenue and onto a two-lane road that stretched up into the mountains. Pretty soon the markings on the pavement disappeared. The tree growth turned denser, and the road made severe turns and sharp dips. She clutched her stomach to keep down the car sickness and tried to focus on a distant point to stave off the dizziness, but even the far points shifted too fast. The houses thinned out. Their sizes and general upkeep declined. She saw more pickups than BMWs.

  The British woman told Reed to turn in twenty meters. He slowed, but Gwen saw no road or driveway. Then, as they got closer, two faint tire ruts swerved off the road and disappeared into a canopy of evergreens so thick the automatic headlights flicked on. The Range Rover came out the other side and face to face with another little green hut almost identical to those sitting around the lake house.

  This time a woman exited and strode to the car. Though both her ears were still intact, she shared the same skeptical grimace as the driveway guard. Reed rolled down his window and held out his watch again. What was on that thing? The female guard looked across Reed at Gwen, and her frown deepened. Then she disappeared into the hut and came out with a bulging envelope. She passed it to Reed and waved him on
ward.

  The bushes in front of the Range Rover parted. The SUV slowly drove through and into the opening of a tall, formidable gate extending through the trees. The tire ruts swooped into the forest and the gate clanged shut behind them. The land sloped steadily downward. Ahead rose a ten-foot-tall iron latticed wall. The tire ruts ended in front of it.

  Reed threw the SUV in park and killed the engine. The lock on Gwen’s door released. The sudden freedom was anticlimactic because they literally stood at the edge of the world. As she stepped out of the car, pine needles crunched under her boot, releasing their sweet scent. The forest clutched her so tightly she could barely breathe. There was nothing up here except icy gusts that liked to torment her skin, and the roar of the wind throwing about the tree branches.

  “There.” Reed stood to one side of the iron lattice, pointing downward. She went to his side, keeping a careful distance between them.

  The iron wall had prevented the car from rolling down a steep decline. A path switchbacked down to a tiny shack. Its minuscule front porch rested on the ground, but the back half of the cabin balanced on stilts, hanging over a cliff that dropped into a hazy, quiet valley. The windows were dark, as if blacked out by paint or heavy drapes.

  “I’m supposed to stay up here. Orders.” He waved about the watch, but as she tried to steal a glance at it, its screen was disappointingly blank.

  “Here.” He slapped the envelope at her chest.

  She took it, blinking in confusion. He just shrugged, as if to say, yet again, “Not my business to know.”

  So this was it. She was on her own. Nora trusted Reed would make her go inside that cabin at any cost, and Gwen believed he would, too. All that posturing about how he was here for her now had vanished. Maybe she could have used that before. Maybe, if she’d been smart and had actually thought through her actions before she’d tried to jump him, she could have manipulated his obvious desire to get him onto her side. But that was gone now. His position was all too clear.