Skin Heat

by Ava Gray

  Neva barely heard the words the minister spoke, too lost in eyes bluer than the sky and twice as beautiful. Finally, he would be hers in the judgment of the whole world, and she could prove how proud she was of him. Not that there had been any doubt for months. But she wanted this. Hell, they needed this.

  In a couple of months, the wedding dress probably wouldn’t fit anymore.

  The ceremony itself passed in a blur. She spoke her vows and he repeated his with excessive care. Neva alone knew how terrified he was of signing his name on the marriage certificate. It was the one place he might trip up, so with her help, he’d practiced a scrawl beforehand. Doctors did it all the time.

  At last the minister said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  And what a kiss; Neva heard tell afterward that a lady in the front row fainted after the first forty seconds and had to be revived with smelling salts. She wouldn’t know, of course, too busy enjoying the heat and magic of Zeke’s mouth. He kissed her without pretense of civilization: his mouth said to hers—and the world—this woman is mine.

  Eventually, people pulled them apart because Lillian’s photographer was too important and artistic to be kept waiting by the mundane happiness of the bride and groom. But she wouldn’t allow that to ruin her wedding day. Instead she laughed and ran along the grass, hand in hand with Zeke. My husband. It thrilled her just thinking the words, and his grandmother’s ring caught the light. Once, as a young woman, Martha Noble had worn this ring and experienced the same joy. Such connections mattered.

  Zeke’s family stopped them. Aunt Sid gave her a hug and then stood back, admiring her dress with tears shining in her eyes. “I’m just that proud. Couldn’t love this boy more if he was my own. Welcome to the family, honey.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Auntie Sid to you. Next week, I’ll stop by the farm and show you how to make the ambrosia salad Zeke loves so well.”

  Behind her, Zeke shook his head frantically; apparently he didn’t like the dish, but he was too kind to say so. That sort of thing was common in families—when people cared—and Neva had never felt more connected than this moment with the sun shining down and the sweet smell of flowers on the wind.

  Uncle Lew pumped Zeke’s hand. He’d done away with chew for the day, and his sons wore their best suits. To Neva’s surprise, one of them—she could never remember who was Wil and who was Jeff—mumbled an apology while staring at his Sunday shoes.

  “I spoke out of turn,” the man said. “And I got what was coming to me. No hard feelings?”

  She raised her brows at Zeke, who merely offered an inscrutable half smile. Her husband accepted the proffered hand and shook, though she could tell he didn’t like it. Even his family made him uncomfortable. Only she could stroke him all over, and watch as he arched and purred like a powerful cat beneath her hands. There was a delicious power in that knowledge.

  She posed and smiled for the next hour, along with everyone else, and then it was time for the toasts and wedding cake. Emil gave an unexpectedly romantic one; during his days in Harper Creek, he’d lost some of his cold, forbidding edge.

  “When I see these two together, I am reminded that all things are possible, that we can find beauty in the most unexpected of places, and that if we cling fast to it, that lovely seed flowers into something steadfast and rare. To Zeke and Neva.” Emil raised his glass, and she smiled at him, wondering if he knew what he’d done.

  When he started his term as sheriff, he was going to be beating the ladies off with a stick. From what Neva could tell, Emmylou Fish already had her eye on him, and that sure would be fun to watch.

  Seeing Julie’s cousin gave the day a bittersweet flavor. She wished her best friend could’ve been here. She wanted her; she missed her, and that ache would never go away. But even that sorrow couldn’t linger long. Not today. Not in the sunshine, with little girls romping on the lawn in lace dresses, ribbons streaming from their hair. Too much beauty.

  When Zeke raised the wineglass to her lips, she shook her head and whispered, “None for me.” While pretending to drink.

  It took him a moment to work it out. “You—we—”

  “Haven’t been to the doctor, but I’m pretty sure. I think it was when you pounced on me in the stockroom at the clinic. If it’s a girl, I’d like to name her Julia.”

  Heedless of what anyone might think, he knelt right then and pressed his ear to her stomach. To anyone else, it looked like a knight paying homage to his lady, and a little awww rippled through the crowd. But she knew what he was doing. Only with ears like his would that be possible. When his gaze met hers, his eyes shone like dusky sapphires. Tears, though they didn’t fall. Zeke wouldn’t let them.

  “What else could you possibly give me?” he asked, each word pushed through a throat that sounded thick to her ears.

  “Everything,” she answered.

  And then she did.

  Turn the page for a special preview of

  Ava Gray’s next novel

  SKIN DIVE

  Coming July 2011

  from Berkley Sensation!

  NINE MONTHS AGO ABOVE THE EXETER FACILITY, VIRGINIA

  Taye prayed his nerves didn’t show; he had a whole elevator full of people counting on him to make the right decisions. Insane when you thought about it. He suspected he’d never been in charge of anything before. He bore all the signs of a man who had never amounted to much; he knew in his bones nobody was looking for him.

  Not so long ago, Gillie had asked him, Do you remember who you are? Do you have a family? He’d answered, Only bits and pieces. I think I might have a family out there, but I’m not positive. I’m pretty sure they’d given up on me, long before I was taken. Which made it even crazier that these people were all looking to him to guide them out of this mess.

  But hell, I got us this far.

  As the lift rose, the sound of distant explosions carried from the facility below, even through all the metal and concrete. Down there, the workers were dying. Because of me. That probably made him a monster by most people’s reckoning, but to his view, those who could cash a paycheck without trying to stop what had been done to Gillie—well, they deserved the big boom. The floor heated beneath his feet, and he could well imagine the wall of flames shooting up the shaft toward the car. There were only two stops, top and bottom, and the metal box rocked as it climbed. Come on, just a little higher. Systems, don’t shut down just yet.

  At last, the doors swished open, swamping him in a wave of crushing relief. Promise kept. Gillie glanced his way, seeking direction. She had to be scared shitless, but damned if she would show it. There was a word for a girl like her—indomitable.

  Now let’s see, where the hell are we? Four walls of textured metal. No visible door. But since the place had been built from panels—

  “Start looking for a latch or a hidden exit,” the dark-haired woman said.

  Took the words right out of my mouth. The woman who had given the instruction seemed different than everyone else, less tentative, less damaged. She couldn’t have been there very long, or she would carry fear in her face. Instead, she only appeared determined, as if this sojourn had proven a minor inconvenience. Rowan didn’t have a chance to work on her, thanks to me. He took visceral satisfaction in that.

  Eager for freedom, the others spread out; Silas found the panel after a brief search. The big orderly flipped it open, and Taye called the juice from his own body—precious little left now—to pop the electronic lock. Sizzle and spark, just like underground. When the door swung open, the scent of musty grain wafted in. Tentatively, they moved as a group, peering into the next room.

  It wasn’t what he’d expected. No barbed wire, no high-tech perimeter. There were no guards he’d have to fry. It was almost . . . anticlimactic. This outer room was lined with straw and held the remnants of an old harvest. That was all.

  “Looks like a farm,” a man with a faint Southern drawl said.


  He was a little taller than Taye, but he wasn’t quite as pale, which meant he hadn’t been incarcerated long. The blond woman, on the other hand—Rowan must’ve had her for a while because she was damn near wrecked. And that was everyone: Gillie, himself, Silas, the Southern man, the confident brunette, and the broken blonde.

  “We need to get out of here. Right now. Rowan could be arriving any minute.” Fear made Gillie’s words ring sharp and staccato with urgency.

  That triggered a stampede, though nobody pushed or shoved. Silas hit the door first, and it wasn’t locked, swinging open to reveal daylight. Taye shaded his eyes, unable to speak for the pleasure of it. Even though it hurt his eyes a little, the fresh wind on his face felt amazing. It was late spring, he guessed, by the color and size of the foliage, so the weather was on their side, at least. Given all their disadvantages, they needed the break. Or it might be early summer, if weather patterns had changed while he was underground.

  Taye gazed out over the furrowed fields, breathing in the verdant air. It was sweet and clean, hints of manure and compost, but no chemicals. No pine-scented cleaner. That antiseptic smell haunted him. Flashes still hit him from the time before, when his brain was scrambled, and he remembered screaming as they dumped some solution on him from the ceiling; Rowan aspired to complete dehumanization of his subjects, and in most cases, he had succeeded.

  Beside him, Gillie trembled from head to toe. This had to be fucking overwhelming for her. He remembered how she had said, I want to see the sun again, Taye. That was when he’d known he’d do anything to make that dream come true, anything at all. And here they were.

  He touched her on the shoulder. “It’s okay. We made it.”

  “What now?” the man with the drawl asked.

  “We should split up.” The black-haired woman spoke decisively. “Looking like this, if we stick together, we’ll be caught fast.”

  Mental hospital pajamas, no shoes, no money, crazy eyes? No question. They’ll round us up and put us on the first short bus they find.

  “She’s right,” Silas agreed.

  Gillie managed a grin. “Before we split up, should we all agree to meet at the top of the Empire State Building in five years?”

  And that was so Gillie. Lighten the mood, refusing to show fear. She might be quaking inside, worried how the hell they’d manage, but nobody would ever know it. The girl would spit in death’s eye, and if he understood her past, she had done it more than once.

  While the others gaped in astonishment, Silas gave a slow nod. “I’d like that. Five years—to the day.”

  The thin, blond woman spoke for the first time. “If I’m alive, I’ll come. But for now, it’s time to get moving.”

  A murmur of good-byes followed. Taye didn’t take long about it, and he didn’t ask Gillie if she wanted his company, either. He laced his fingers through hers and gave a tug.

  With a final backward glance at the silo, she followed him across the field. He pushed north, avoiding the highway, because they would certainly attract attention from passing cars. People in their right minds didn’t go for a hike barefoot in thin cotton pajamas.

  They’d been walking for a while—impossible to say how long—when he glimpsed a white house set well away from the road in the middle of sprawling fields. Farmhouse. He didn’t see any cars in the gravel drive, but there was a detached garage, so it was impossible to be sure.

  “Let’s go check it out.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  He read the anxiety in her expression. Though she tried to hide it, she was more than a little freaked. She hadn’t been outdoors in twelve years, and it would be dark soon. Compounding that, they had no money, no food, and no shelter, and she had to rely on him for safety; that would worry anyone with a lick of sense. Shit, it worried him.

  “We’re not gonna knock on the door and ask for help, if that’s what you’re fretting about. But we can’t travel like this, either.”

  She merely nodded. He pretended confidence, striding toward the house. The gravel drive bit into the soles of his feet as he crossed to peer into a garage window. No cars. That ought to mean nobody was around. Setting Gillie on watch, he broke in through the back and stole food, drink, and clothing.

  As he came back out carrying a plastic bag, she called, “I hear a car coming.”

  In tandem, they raced across the property toward the fields: once they put some distance behind them, they paused to change clothes. His were too loose and short; hers looked like they’d previously belonged to an old woman. It didn’t matter. At least the shoes worked, more or less, and socks made up the difference.

  By then, it was getting on toward nightfall, but they pressed on. He could only think of getting out of Virginia. To the north lay safety and freedom. Or maybe he was conflating old history classes about the Underground Railroad with personal motivation. Strange he could remember those kinds of facts, but nothing about the man he had been. That was more than a trifle unsettling.

  Gillie stumbled beside him and he turned to her, shoring her up. “We need to stop soon, huh? You’re not used to this.”

  She didn’t deny being tired, but she didn’t complain. “I can go on.”

  “No need.” He pointed. “There’s a barn. Just a little farther and we’ll get some rest.”

  The red outbuilding was well kept and had been shoveled recently, so the smell wasn’t overwhelming. In the stalls, the landowner kept cows, who lowed at the intrusion. Taye ignored them and scrambled up the ramp to the hayloft. There was enough straw to mound for a bed and if someone came to investigate the restless animals, they should be able to hide behind the bales. Good enough.

  “It’ll get better,” he told Gillie. “You’ll have your own place. We’ll find work.”

  “But we don’t have any identification.”

  “That just means we’ll have to do the jobs nobody else wants for a while. Just until I figure out a better way.”

  She didn’t argue. Instead she helped him arrange a make-shift bed. Though he wasn’t crazy about the idea of sleeping together—even like this—he couldn’t leave her unprotected. He’d just have to tamp down the unwelcome desire she roused in him; thinking about Gillie that way made him feel dirty and wrong, almost as bad as that bastard Rowan.

  They ate some of the bread and peanut butter he’d lifted from the house a ways back and washed it down with tap water. It wasn’t gourmet fare, but he could tell she enjoyed it by the way she smiled at him; that look made him feel ten feet tall.

  “My first meal as a free woman,” she said.

  “The first of many.”

  Then he lay down and tried to sleep, but as the temperature dropped and she lay shivering in her thin polyester pantsuit, he turned with a reluctant growl. “Come here.”

  Just sharing body heat, that’s all. Don’t think about that kiss. You can’t have her. Not now. Not ever. He gazed up at the slats above his head and tried to resign himself to that. The straw prickled, and they lacked both covers and pillow. Not an auspicious start, genius.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I should’ve grabbed a blanket, too. I wasn’t thinking about sleeping rough.”

  “I’m glad we didn’t take more than we had to from those people. They had nothing to do with what happened to us.”

  “You’re too nice.”

  Gillie didn’t reply right then. Instead, she nestled into his arms. God, why did she have to feel so good, feminine without being fragile. Her small frame possessed a tensile strength; he knew she’d worked out in captivity to stay strong. Some days when he came to visit her, he’d found her running on the treadmill, as if she could outpace Rowan and his cameras, artificial lights, and doors that didn’t lock.

  Eventually she asked, “Do you want to split up?”

  He understood the reason behind the question. After all, they’d decided as a group that it made sense to go their separate ways. That would be the smart thing. He sensed her tension as she awa
ited his reply; she wasn’t ready to be alone. Which guaranteed his response.

  “No. I broke out of there for you, Gillie-girl. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  Not now. Not until you’re ready.

  The world seemed so fucking big. Gillie had all but forgotten the feel of the wind on her face; today it didn’t matter if it smelled of exhaust, not as fresh as she remembered. There wasn’t much sun today, either, a gray day threatening rain that hadn’t materialized yet. But the hint of it hung in the air, a touch of damp that charmed her. She remembered rain and she’d seen it on TV, but the visceral feel of the droplets hitting her skin . . . not so much. Would it hit lightly or sting her skin? She so looked forward to finding out.

  Though her feet hurt and her thighs burned from the long walk, the fact that she was free made all the difference. She wanted to dance and spin, but people would stare, and that’d piss Taye off for sure. He had been muttering about staying under the radar all morning.

  They had passed through the shabby downtown area and headed off. She hoped he knew where he was going. Apparently he did, because he stopped outside a bank.

  Gillie watched as Taye strode up to an ATM machine. He touched his fingers to the screen and sent a gentle jolt of power. To her astonishment, the machine spat out a number of bills. He palmed them smoothly and hurried away, tucking the money into his pocket.

  She followed. They’d hiked all the way to Altoona, across the Pennsylvania state line. He’d turned down two offers of rides even on the back roads, and she was wary enough to appreciate his caution; she knew their value to the Foundation well enough. They couldn’t risk trusting strangers right now.

  He eyed all the storefronts as they passed, until she felt compelled to ask, “What are you looking for?”

  “Thrift shop.”

  “I guess we do need some things.”

  Eventually they found a secondhand store in a shopping plaza that had clearly seen better days; they bought jackets, jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers, as well as battered backpacks to put the clean things in. Since the place also sold irregular socks and underwear, it set them up to keep moving, blending in on the lower edge of normal. Taye tucked the food he’d stolen at the house in Virginia into his pack; they hadn’t eaten since the day before because she’d been worried about buying more. After that ATM trick, maybe she didn’t need to fret quite as much.