by Tera Shanley
A soft knock at the door pulled her out of her abstraction. A quick wipe to her puffy eyes and a regrettable glance in the mirror and she opened her door a crack. Guist stood there.
“Hey, Laney. Somebody wanted to know where you lived so they could thank you.” He stepped aside to reveal Eloise, looking decidedly better than the last time she’d seen her.
“Come on in,” Laney offered.
Guist took the chair by her desk and immediately started doodling on the blank paper before him. The bed creaked as Eloise and Laney sat on it, facing each other.
“I wanted to thank you for saving me yesterday,” Eloise said quietly. If the tone of her voice was anything to go by, she was still rattled by the close encounter.
Laney tried to reassure her. “Anytime. I’m sorry I bolted before you woke up. I had to stop Mitchell from giving Mel what for. What happened when you came to?”
“It was all a blur. Dr. Mackey was there and one of the guards carried me back to his office.” Eloise smiled mischievously. “He said you’d shoot him if I had even a scratch on me. I wouldn’t have believed him but I saw your face yesterday. That Dead didn’t even faze you. You’re kind of tough, Laney Landry.”
“Oh, it fazed me all right. He got way too close to you guys for comfort.”
Eloise slid a glance to Guist. The scratching of his pen was the only sound in the room. “Are you okay? It looks like you’ve been crying,” she observed quietly.
Guist spun around and studied her face. “What’s happened?” he asked gruffly.
“Simmer down. It’s just a little bit of everything got to me. It’s been a rough week.” Nope. There was no way she was telling Guist she was having boy problems.
He frowned. “I thought you had a good day. Mitchell said you guys went hunting. Did he piss you off?”
Laney snorted. “When does he not piss me off?” She bit her lip. “Actually today is the first time I can remember that he didn’t annoy me. The hunt was kind of exactly what I needed.”
“Huh.” Guist went back to scribbling.
“Was it Sean?” Eloise mouthed.
She nodded.
“Are you ladies about ready to head up to dinner?” Guist asked over his shoulder.
“I was supposed to go to dinner at Sean’s,” Laney admitted. “I think I’d much rather eat with you guys though. I’m pretty sure he rescinded my invite when he was screeching at me for leaving the colony anyway,” she said with a grin.
So she had a knack for ticking people off. It had never seemed like a trait Guist minded. She washed her face and tucked her backpack and Mini away. She zipped her jacket up as they left her room, and the trio walked together up the trail to the mess hall.
“Laney!” Finn hailed as she reached out to open the cafeteria doors.
“I’ll catch up,” she told the others. “What’s up?” she asked the imposing man.
“What’re you doing here? I thought you had dinner with Sean tonight.”
“I did, but—”
“But nothing, woman. The man has been cooking away up at his cabin. You don’t stand a man up when he’s put that much effort into a meal.”
She internally groaned. She was still angry, and Sean was literally the last person she wanted to see or talk to. Not even a little piece of her wanted to deal with him, but she couldn’t just not show up if he expected her. She was brash and stubborn and sometimes a little irresponsible, but her mother had instilled manners in her and she’d feel guilty for a long time if she left him hanging.
Growling in frustration, she headed for the trail that led up the mountain, offering no response to Finn’s confused goodbye. She didn’t feel like shooting the messenger, but she sure felt like ignoring him.
The smell of the food Sean was cooking wafted down the trail in front of the cabin. Her mouth watered. At least something good would come of this.
She knocked on the door and waited. Laughter emanated from the cabin, and her stomach dropped. Sean finally opened the door with a wide grin on his face, as if he were enjoying some inside joke, and she shifted her weight to look around him.
Mel sat in the dining room, happily eating and joking with Adrianna. Sean’s grin dropped the instant he realized who stood on his doorstep.
After a quick glance inside, Sean stepped out and closed the door quietly behind him.
She threw her head back, and the cold air caressed her exposed neck. She laughed without humor. “Are you serious right now?”
“Laney, I didn’t think you were going to come after earlier.”
“So you had another dinner date on standby? You know what? Forget it. Why would I have expected anything different from you, Sean?” She spun and left the porch. “I didn’t want to come anyway.”
“Laney, I’m sorry.”
“Apology not accepted,” she called over her shoulder.
The tragedy of the entire situation was that she really wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t done anything out of character. Sean was a great leader, a great father, a great protector, but he wouldn’t be a caring partner. No matter what her loyal heart said to the contrary, her logic couldn’t argue with experience. Despite this knowledge, the rejection stung like the crack of a whip.
He’d made it clear she was unattractive to him, other than her tattoo of course. With this repudiation coming on the tail of her discovery of Adam’s years of refusing to contact her in the shadow of another woman, she was low. Lower than low. Rock bottom low even. She’d had her insecurities throughout the years, as all women did, but on the whole she was a confident woman. She had to be to keep up with the men on her team. If she showed frailty, they’d eat her alive.
She walked the trails she’d become familiar with. Meandering to the river, she picked a place to sit near the water’s edge. The river was shallow there, and the rocks on the bottom made small and melodious rapids. She leaned her chin on her knees and watched small trout making their way upstream. The tiny snow flurries that had fallen earlier had stopped long before, but the air felt as if another storm was lingering. She sat there until it was dark. Despite her peaceful surroundings, she couldn’t quite burn the fury from her veins. How dare he make her feel this way about herself. She was better than that.
She’d give anything to escape her own head. She thought of Mitchell and the fun they’d found when they went hunting. She thought of his smile, void of tension or fallacy. He was a relief. A breath of fresh air when she’d learned to live on smog. He eased the shattering rejection. She thought of his caramel-colored eyes and the hungry look they sometimes cast upon her. For the first time, she thought about the way Mitchell had kissed her in Denver. It had been fast, and shocking. His lips had been passionately unapologetic. The more she thought of him to escape her dejected feelings, the more an idea niggled at the back of her mind. And once such a thought took hold, it was all she could think about because it offered such a sweet and tempting release. Her own personal escape plan.
She jumped up and headed for Mitchell and Guist’s room before she could change her mind. She tried to block out any thought of her actions potentially ruining an old easiness born of a relationship she’d built over half of her lifetime. Mitchell had probably done this a dozen times. He was well-versed in women. If anyone could be casual about this, Mitchell could. Picking up her pace, she made it to the row of cabins she thought they were housed in. She remembered Nick pointing it out on their map the first day, but had never actually been to their room.
Her knuckles made a hollow sound as she knocked on the door. Please let him be home. Please let this be his cabin. Or not. Whatever was meant to be would be.
Guist answered the door. “Laney?” He stood aside for her to come in.
Mitchell had his back to her at the washbasin and wore nothing but a towel. His hair was wet, and the broad muscles in his back worked as he washed the leftover shaving cream from his face. He caught her silhouette in the mirror and turned with a startled look on his face.
&nbs
p; “Out,” she clipped to Guist.
He hesitated only a moment. “Oh, shit. This is happening,” he murmured as he grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door.
“What’re you doing here?” Mitchell asked, holding his ground on the other side of the small room.
She took her jacket off and watched his concern turned to realization.
“Why?” he asked. “Why now?”
She didn’t answer. She was on a mission and talking wasn’t necessary to complete it. She pulled her shirt over her head and unfastened her bra. She undid the hook on her belt as he took a sharp inhalation of breath. It shook slightly and she smiled. He thought her womanly. He thought her attractive. Warmth grew in her and spread to her very fingertips. Mitchell was a catch, as she’d heard many a woman say. Never mind his well-sculpted body and toned musculature, or his dark and hungry eyes that sent shivers down her spine for reasons she couldn’t herself explain. Mitchell was funny, and confident, and protective, and caring in his own way. She’d seen the adoration in the women he gave his affection to at other colonies. While they were there, he always treated them as if they mattered. She wanted to matter. Why had it taken so long for her to tell him what she needed? What her body needed?
She stood in front of him, bare of clothing. Vulnerable. Her heart pounded wildly. Other than gate checks, she hadn’t been naked in front of a man since Adam. Since before the outbreak. Since before she’d become the person she was now. And never in a fashion where she was asking a man to enjoy her body.
Mitchell drank in the sight of her. His eyes widened, and in the candle light, they looked so dark, like a starless sky on a moonless night. If she looked long enough, she’d be able to see his soul in them. The thirsty look that she hadn’t even known she longed for had returned to his face, and the firelight danced in the dark planes of his eyes. The corner of his mouth turned up in an irresistible smile.
“Laney,” he whispered, shaking his head back and forth slowly, though never letting his eyes wander from the shape of her body.
It was enough. It was already enough. She could leave now and feel the effects of Mitchell’s lingering gaze overshadow Sean’s careless views of her worth. She knew it, but she couldn’t pull herself any farther from Mitchell’s body. It had been so long, and she needed more. The cool wood beneath her feet chilled her as the cool air met her bare skin. She tiptoed across the room, seeking his warmth. Every sensual step toward him brought her excitement and anticipation. She placed the palms of her hands on his chest and felt the rise and fall of his quaking breaths beneath them. The rhythm of his racing heart matched hers, and she gave him a slow smile. He seemed as terrified and excited as she was. He caressed her neck and reached for her nape, pulling gently on her hair band until the weight of her long hair fell loosely around her shoulders.
“I have a request,” he said in a slow, deep voice.
“And what’s that?” she asked through a lazy smile.
“Tonight I want you to call me by my name. Say it.”
“Mitchell,” she whispered stubbornly.
He leaned down and came within a breath of her lips. He twined his fingers through her hair. “Say it,” he growled.
She pursed her lips and shook her head slightly.
He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her in the barest of ways. His touch was so light she’d swear she dreamed it in the morning. She wanted more. Needed more. He pulled back, teasing.
“Please,” she whispered as an acute desperation to keep his body close to hers brimmed inside of her.
He ran a feather-soft finger down the side of her arm. She hadn’t the strength to take her gaze away from his lips. The game was through.
“Derek,” she said softly, the enunciation odd against her tongue.
He smiled for only a second before his lips were on hers. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask her permission. He took her lips and demanded she kiss him back as she’d never before kissed a man. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her to him in a crushing embrace. The pain brought her pleasure, and she whispered his name again with a ragged breath.
He groaned deeply in his throat and picked her up with ease. When her back was against the wall, he crushed his weight against her and kissed her desperately. She was empowered. How could such an untamed and masculine creature want her so much? She bit his lip gently, and he responded by hugging her body even more tightly to himself.
Someone banged on the other side of the adjoining wall. “Pipe down!” an angry voice shouted.
They froze and looked at the wall in question for a split second before they started chuckling softly. She hadn’t even considered the thin walls. She’d been too enthralled with the velvet touch of his skin and utterly lost in the moment.
Mitchell raked his fingers down her side, ever careful of her injuries, and leaned his forehead against hers. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, looking deeply into her eyes as if they would provide the answer.
For one of the first times in her life, she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t have to put on a brave face for anyone. He could’ve seen right through her if she had. “I need this. I need you.”
A slow smile pulled at his lips. It was happy, and calm, and adoring. “Okay,” he whispered.
He picked her up and set her gently on his bed. The covers were warm and soft, and the glow from the stove in the corner let off a soft light, tossing gently rolling shadows across his bare skin. He took his time, caressing her body and making an effort to adore every part of her. Only when she was completely satiated did he give in to his own needs.
Laney smiled lazily at Mitchell as he traced her peacock tattoo lightly with his finger. He was lying on his side and propped up on one elbow, and in the dim candlelight, she had an impeccable view of the muscular planes of his chest and stomach. She lay on her front with her arms serving as a pillow as he stroked her back.
“Do you remember the night you got this tattoo?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“How could I ever forget? It hurt like hell.”
He chuckled, the sound deep and resonating. “Yeah, before the outbreak this tattoo would’ve taken three sittings. But after the outbreak people had to be tougher and more flexible. Plus your tattoo artist could’ve died the next day and then you’d be stuck with a half done peacock.”
“Exactly.”
He frowned thoughtfully as the candlelight flickered across his face. “Do you remember anything else about that night?”
Was he being shy with his words? She thought back to the night they’d found a tattoo artist in one of the colonies. It had been scary times back then, and she’d wanted something beautiful done in the midst of all of the suffering. She’d still believed beauty existed out there, and she chose the peacock to remind her of that. “I remember I wanted to drink before I had it done, but you and Jarren wouldn’t let me. You said it would make me bleed easier.”
The ghost of her brother wavered in his sad smile.
“I remember you and Guist got tattoos too. He got an outline of a dragon on his arm and you—” she squinted again at the small script tattoo on his ribcage, only partially visible “—probably just tattooed your own name on yourself.”
He laughed. “Not quite.”
She propped herself up and eyed the tattoo. She’d never seen it this close and was surprised when he rolled slightly toward her to let her have a better view. It was a set of numbers, and she squinted to read them in the shadows.
“06-03-18?” she asked him in confusion.
He nodded but didn’t explain.
“June third,” she mumbled to herself. “Eighteen was two years ago. What was so important two years ago?”
“It was the day we got the tattoos,” he said seriously.
“You got a tattoo of the day you got a tattoo?” she asked. “Your name would’ve been less douchey than that.”
“Do you remember anything else about that night?” he asked.
She shook her
head. “Not anything big.”
“It probably wasn’t big to you, but it was kind of huge to me. Do you remember holding my hand when you were getting yours done?”
Her heart skittered uncomfortably, and she sat up. This conversation was headed nowhere good. She pulled the blanket over her chest and huddled into herself.
The corner of his mouth twitched and a slight frown came over his features, but he pushed on. “That was the first time you let me hold your hand without trying to slap me, or punch me, or curse me out. You held my hand for hours. You leaned on me. I’d liked you for years, but that was the first day I knew I was done for. You were it for me. It was the day I knew I would compare every woman in my life to you and none would match up.”
“Mitchell, stop,” she whispered in horror. “I can’t do this right now. You’ve had years to tell me this, and you tell me now? Tonight?”
Panic seized her. She wanted to be casual about what had just happened between them. That idea seemed laughable to her after all was said and done. How could it be that the unmanageable Derek Mitchell was the one having trouble with a casual night together and she wasn’t? She jumped up and bolted for her pile of clothes on the floor.
“I don’t understand,” he said softly. “What was this to you?”
“Mitchell—”
“Don’t call me that!”
“It’s your name.”
“It’s my last name! The guys call me that. Acquaintances call me that. You can’t call me that after what we just did. Why do you think I’m trying to piss you off all the time? You only call me Derek when you’re mad at me. I breathe for that stupid word on your lips.”
“Look, I just wanted you to treat me like one of your other colony girls,” she pleaded as she pulled her pants on.
