Not that he could blame her. Goodbye to a way of life, to a way of thinking. To a big part of what she’d always been and always believed.
He tucked away the first aid kit and the trash he’d generated, grabbing the meal wrappers while he was at it—leaving Ana to her silence while he distributed the contents of the third pack between the first two, and then helped her to her feet and adjusted the pack to fit—as best it could, sized as it was for the man who had worn it.
Ana glanced down the hill. “We just leave them?”
He understood her reluctance. “We do. Someone from the Core will track them down. They had their own trackers—damaged with concussion release, but yours is there, too.” For above all, the Core knew better than to leave the evidence of its behavior lying around for the mundane world to stumble over. “They would have found us, too, if we hadn’t made it.”
She tucked newly gloved hands around the pack straps. “I know. It’s just...none of this seems right. I just can’t help but wonder if this isn’t so much about the Core as it is about Lerche, and if I head on in...report what’s happened...”
Something in Ian hardened. “Lerche,” he said, jamming an arm through his own pack strap. “Eduard Forrakes. Fabron Gausto. And all the men who ever thought it was okay to belittle you and demean you and keep you so beaten down. Who think it’s just fine to hurt Sentinels whenever it suits them. What happened here isn’t about any single person, Ana, and it’s not even about you or me. It’s about a culture that sees bullying and taking as their right.”
Ana sent him a strange look. “Funny,” she said. “That’s what Lerche would say about you.”
Ian settled the pack into place. “Then you’ve got some decisions to make, don’t you?”
“I don’t—”
“Stay,” he said, “and your Core will find you. Probably not Lerche’s people by then. Or go on your own way, and find the Core. Or come with me. I’m heading to the Sentinels, and I’ll take down as many posse members as necessary to get there.”
“That’s hard,” she said, the faintest tremble at her mouth—and anger lighting her eyes. “That’s damned hard.”
He knew she wasn’t talking about the choice. She was talking about him. And he couldn’t disagree. “I want you with me, Ana. But I’ll do what needs doing, and I’m not going to debate it at every turn. So, by God—” he shook his head, the words stuck in his throat for that instant “—I hope you’ll come with me. Just be sure you know the choice you’re making. And that you can live with it, one way or the other.”
“No,” she said, and her voice wasn’t strong—nor that steady. “I won’t let you define my terms. I can come with you now...and walk away later.”
He reminded himself of how she’d grown up. Of what she’d been told. Of what she’d been plunged into the middle of. He reminded himself that he would probably never know how much strength it had taken her to say those words.
“Yeah,” he agreed, and didn’t do what he wanted so badly to do—snatch her off her feet like some caveman, keeping her safe. Keeping her his. Knowing that if he strong-armed her, he’d simply lose her altogether. “You can. But not without consequences, if you’re wrong about the Core. And, just so you know, probably not without ripping my beastie little heart into some ugly pieces. But it’s up to you.”
With that, he struck off—his thoughts already whirling off into chaos with the distance he’d just put between them, and his body one large smoldering bruise except for the parts that simply hurt worse—his side, his face.
And, yeah, his heart. Even though it should have known better all along.
Chapter 14
They hiked with unerring purpose, making Ana glad she’d worn her minimalist cross-trainers the day before but also sorry she hadn’t put on hiking boots. Ian led them from sun to shadow and back again, cresting unexpected slopes and curving around sharp points. Always one foot slightly lower than the other on slanting ground, her feet straining to find purchase among the accumulated bedding of needles and snagging in the sly tangle of underbrush.
She drank when Ian suggested; she ate the energy bar he dug out of the pack. She unzipped her jacket to let the cool air circulate beneath, finding herself plenty warm even without the rising temperatures of the day and the direct beat of the sun. Her feet turned leaden early, and she learned to place them with even more care. When she asked if they’d make it out before nightfall, he’d said only, “Maybe.”
She didn’t press. She heard the strain in his voice.
She knew what it had taken from him to walk away from their discussion, leaving her the space she needed—she knew how he cared. How deeply. Because she knew, now, how passionate he was about his people. What they did. What they’d suffered at Core hands.
No matter why the Core had done what they’d done. They’d caused suffering. That, Ana knew.
Because he was right. She’d experienced it all along, in her own way, even before Lerche had turned a torturous amulet on her. Or sent three men to kill them. Or before she’d known he’d hidden a tracker in her body.
She shifted the pack straps away from the tiny wound Ian had dealt her to free her of that tracker. Even in hurting her, he’d touched her with more care than she’d experienced since she’d been torn from her home.
Ian made a sound she hadn’t expected, stumbling—righting himself against a tree and striking out again. Another dozen steps and he tripped again, this time landing heavily on his hands and one knee. He didn’t bounce back up.
“Ian?” She ran a few hasty steps to reach him, and then wasn’t quite sure what to do when she got there. She couldn’t fix this any more than she could undo the moment she’d planted that amulet in the retreat kitchen.
“Awesome,” he muttered, sitting back on his heel and dusting his hands off. “Big bad Sentinel.”
“You’re pushing too hard,” she said as if she had the right to tell him of his own needs.
Ian glanced up at the sky; without thinking, she followed his gaze.
The sun was well on its way back down toward sunset, low enough to shine in her eyes if she’d been looking up instead of at her feet.
She’d had no idea they’d lost so much time tucked away in their little shelter. She’d been judging by the warmth of the day, unable to factor in the chilling effect of the altitude or the way the rugged folds of the mountain kept them in shade.
And given the healing heat that still radiated from Ian, given the strain on his features and the obvious way his body still chewed through resources, she knew without hesitation that he pushed on her account—trying to get her off the range before night fell.
“I’ll be fine,” she told him. Sharper in tone than she’d meant to.
Not to mention a statement utterly without merit. She had no idea how she’d get through another night out here.
She sighed in capitulation. “I don’t understand.” This time her voice held the weariness of their situation. “We escaped Lerche in the evening, and made it to that little hidey-hole sometime in the middle of the night. Why would it take us so much longer to get out?”
Ian let his head drop back, his hands resting flat against his thighs; he released a weary gust of breath. “Because then, we weren’t navigating. We were just running. Because the running took so much out of us. Because we’ve got to take a different route to get out of here or we’ll end up right back in Lerche’s territory—and that route has to be one that takes us into trailhead area and not over a cliff.” He opened his eyes just enough to send her a meaningful look. “That explain it for you?”
“Yes,” she said, numb at the hard edge beneath those words. Not the Ian of compassion.
Just, she thought, Ian when pushed past what he could actually do.
She slipped the backpack strap from one shoulder, then the other. Ia
n had taken his stumble on a south-facing curve, and the sun hit them full on, illuminating not just the fatigue over handsome features gone a little too sharp, but painting the hill in strong light and shadow.
Easy enough to find the gentle places on the terrain—the little hollow above them where rock and tree retreated, leaving an area of matted needle and leaf.
She struck out for it.
“What,” Ian asked without opening his eyes, “are you doing?”
She tossed her backpack; it landed at the edge of the hollow. She tossed the jacket after it, glad enough to shed it during this time of warmth and in the wake of their unceasing activity. “Here’s a spot,” she said as if they’d come to some mutual decision.
“I told you I wouldn’t argue. I meant it. This is my way, or no way.”
“Fine,” she said. “Leave me here, then. Maybe you can send someone to look when you get out.”
He made a decidedly unfriendly sound. A growl. Something so deep and primal she thought he hadn’t consciously decided to do it at all.
“Look,” she said. “We’re not going to make it before dark, are we?”
“We’ll get closer. Close enough. I can see in the dark—well enough to get us the rest of the way. Didn’t your Core ever teach you that?”
As if the Core would fail to disclose any small detail of the Sentinels’ advantages over normal humankind when fear of the Sentinels lived at the heart of Core culture. Fear of them. The need to stop them.
Stop them from what? Ana suddenly wondered.
Because the Sentinels could no more allow their people to reveal their nature than the Core allowed their own to employ workings in any visible way. If any Sentinel misbehaved...
That’s what Lyn does.
Sentinel tracker. A woman who tracked her own, bringing them to Sentinel justice.
This is so messed up.
“Ian,” she said gently, “we won’t make it out of here at all if we don’t do it smarter than this.”
For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then he rolled his shoulders, one after the other, and pushed himself to his feet. She stood at the edge of her chosen spot and held out her hand, and when he made it up to her, she slipped around to tug the backpack off his shoulders, setting it beside hers.
“It’s a bad idea,” he said under his breath, dropping his coat beside hers as well, and then dropping down onto it sitting cross-legged.
“No doubt. But it’s the best one we’ve got.” She settled down beside him. “Close your eyes for a moment. I’ll pull out one of the MREs and get it ready.”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Ana, if I close my eyes, they’re going to stay closed for a while. We could end up spending the night right here.”
“We’ll be okay.”
He shook his head, dropping his hand to look at her, and she stilled, not expecting his tortured look or the way his jaw worked. “Ian, what—?”
“We’re not the only ones in trouble,” he said. “You met Fernie. You liked her. And Lyn, and Ruger, and Shea? I’m the only one who can save them.” His voice dropped. “If it’s not too late.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Whatever the truth is about the Core or about the Sentinels... Lerche is a monster. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before now. I just can’t—” She bit her lip, hunting words. Overwhelmed by a surge of guilt.
“Don’t,” he said harshly. “We’ve been through this. He made very sure you didn’t see it. And, Ana, I want to make this easier for you. I want to make it all fucking go away. But I don’t have the energy for it, so, please...can we just not go there right now?”
To her surprise, Ana found these stark words more comforting than she could have imagined. Just matter-of-fact truth. Ian couldn’t make this better.
In fact, no one could make the shreds of her life into some magically okay thing. Lerche had systematically created what she was and what she’d experienced, and now all she could do was break free of it to make her own decisions.
She shifted to her knees, bringing herself closer to him—close enough to touch his face and let her fingers linger there. He closed his eyes, and she wasn’t sure if he couldn’t quite bear her touch or if he simply needed it just that badly.
“Ian,” she whispered. “You mean so much to me. In these few short days...you’ve changed my life into something I never could have imagined.”
He swallowed hard, muscles working in his throat and jaw, eyes closed so hard she could all but feel his pain herself. She stroked across his cheek—the strong angle, the clean lines. She let her fingertips dust across dark lashes, ridiculously long lashes with the smudge of the big cat around the edges of his lids. She drew a whisper down the straight, strong line of his nose and touched his mouth—clearly defined, with a full lower lip that felt so very good against hers.
And was so very good at carrying off the faintest wry little smile he now offered her. “Colder than you could have imagined? More stupidly tired? More profoundly lost?”
Ana laughed, and it came out a throaty sound. “Alive,” she corrected him, and didn’t bother to move her fingers before bringing her mouth down on his.
“Mmph,” he said in surprise—but seemed to understand her need not to be kissed, but to do the kissing. His hands lay quiescent on his thighs as she explored his lips beneath hers, a sensation becoming familiar—just as was the sound of his quickening breath, the firmness of his response and the way he knew just how to woo her—one moment gentle, the next leaning into her kiss with a demanding clash that warmed her blood so much faster than any sunshine ever could.
Her hand found the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath it to touch smooth skin and inspire the responsive flutter of hard muscle. His groan sounded of frustration, and his hands lay quiet no more, instead reaching to her waist. Lifting her to straddle his lap just seemed to happen, and he left his hands there, thumbs curled around her hip bones and fingers splayed out just above the curve of her bottom. She shuddered at that sudden jolt of pleasure and he gasped against her mouth, his hold tightening in reflex.
In an instant he’d rolled her onto her jacket, his legs straightening to pin hers and his hands sliding up her sides to her arms, finding her fingers to interlace his own. “This,” he growled, “is the stupidest damned time to—”
“Shut up,” she gasped. “It’s the perfect time, and you know it. Don’t you dare start thinking about it—”
“You shut up,” he said, and covered her mouth to make it so.
Or almost so, because she spoke right around their kiss. “Fine,” she said. “Take this.” And with no hesitation at all, slipped her hand right down the front of his pants to find his erection.
Ian froze. “Cold,” he said, his voice sounding strangled. “Cold, cold—”
But when she stroked him he stiffened into her, and she did it again, scratching lightly at velvet skin. “Not so cold?”
“Just—” he shuddered, his eyes squeezing shut “—just...perfect.”
She rose up just enough to whisper in his ear. “Too many clothes, Ian.”
He must have agreed. She quite abruptly found herself without a shirt, her pants unbuttoned and yanked off all but one ankle, his pants unbuttoned and out of the way. She reached for him again, owning him—fingertips and gentle pressure making way for a few firm strokes while she had him.
“Gah,” he said on a gasp. “Wait... Ana... I don’t have—”
Right. Condoms had been the last thing on anyone’s mind as they fled Lerche’s mansion.
“I’m safe,” he said, on his elbows over her and trembling with the effort of control as her hand stilled but lingered. “Sentinels...we can...we learn to...”
Didn’t matter. He’d be healthy—Sentinels were. “I’m protected, too,” she managed. Because the Core required it, demand
ing the use of an implant, demanding regular health tests. Controlling even that.
“Your choice,” he said, holding himself there by pure evident dint of will.
“I already made that choice,” she told him. “Remember? In all ways, Ian.”
“Ana,” he breathed, and it sounded like something else. Something more important. “Ana.” Whiskers brushed her skin as he buried his face against her neck, burying himself inside her. She arched up into him with a cry of welcome and a hot flare of pleasure, clutching as he retreated and thrust again—more deeply and then stilling there to absorb the feel of it. His teeth scraped her neck with a faint pinch that sent a delightful shock zinging along her skin; one hand roamed her body to find her breast beneath shirt and bra and gently roll her nipple.
She arched up into that, too, stunned by the fast-gathering heat of a climax and preternaturally aware of every inch of his touch. His breath on her neck, his lips and tongue soothing the spot he’d only just nipped, his fingers rough and perfect over her breast, the amazing sensation of her own body throbbing around his and his body throbbing within hers.
And though he somehow held himself still within her, trembling against the anticipation, she could do so no more. She twisted, writhing up against him, insisting... Her hands found the tight muscle of his beautifully rounded bottom, and she grabbed it, hard—pulling him in while she took him just a little bit deeper, reaching for that miraculous gathering of bright liquid imminence.
He cried out as he had before, a startled thing—a wild thing, set suddenly free and thrusting hard. A man, shouting in beautiful, vulnerable surrender. And again, and again, each shout bringing her nearer and closer and oh. Please. Yes—!
Ana spilled over into the hot shards of orgasm, her fingers digging into his backside, aware of nothing but the sensation he wrung from her, his final gasping thrusts and the guttural groan of his own release—not just a momentary pulse but a sensation that rocketed between them, building into something that was bigger than either of them and, in the end, leaving Ana with a sob stuck in her throat.
Sentinels: Leopard Enchanted Page 20
