by Skyler Andra
I felt the precise moment when his hips started to thrust almost helplessly against me, his body acquiring a new level of tension.
“Locke…” he growled. “I’m going to…”
I knew what that meant, and I removed my hand from his twitching cock. For a second, I thought he might spill anyway, but he pulled back at the last minute, gasping a little, which made me smile.
“I didn’t mean for you to stop,” he panted, and I laughed.
“Here, give me your hand.” I led his hand down between my legs, where I was wet, and soft and aching for him. Then I let him stroke me, lying back with my eyes closed to take in all of the pleasure he was giving me.
With my back pushed against the icy-cold wall and my knee cocked up, it was far from the most comfortable way I had ever done this, but it was better than good if it was with Byron.
He’d always been good with his hands, and this turned out to be no different. Patient and slow, pressing harder or faster when I urged him forward with my moans. A sweet tension coiled up deep inside me, ready to lash out like a striking snake, but indulgently I pushed it away, otherwise I might have climaxed two or three times if I hadn’t. In that moment it didn’t matter to me if Byron’s hand was getting sore or that he was so hard, he rubbed against my thigh. My pleasure given to me by Byron was all-important.
Finally, my body told me that I had had enough, that it needed release, and I fell into the climax like I would into bed. The pleasure rose up all around me, taking my breath away, but throughout it, I never stopped having that special awareness, that wonderful and impossible connection to Byron that now seemed as much a part of me as my own hand was. I bit down on my cries, my body quaking.
When I relaxed, I turned to Byron. If he couldn’t tell that I loved him in that moment, soft, sweet and melting, I didn’t know what to do.
He pulled his hand away with care and grinned. “That was…”
“Oh, we’re not done yet.” I blinked, and a condom appeared in my hand.
That was new. Usually I had to ask for them, but there it was. He was still watching when I opened it and slid it over his erect cock, and I nudged him so that he lay down on the center of the bed. I straddled his thighs, running an admiring hand down his chest.
“This looks perfect to me,” I said, my voice low and intent. “What I always wanted.”
A dark cloud passed over his face, and Byron of course went to argue. I had no time for it though, and I leaned forward, stopping his words with a kiss. I shifted so that his hard cock was pressed flat against my belly, so that he could feel my still wet, soft flesh against him.
“Please,” he begged when I pulled back, and my goodness did I like that better than any argument he was going to start before that.
“Good boy…” I ground against his cock before I raised up and took hold of it at the base.
His strong hands came up to grasp me by the hips, guiding me as I lowered myself down on him. He felt perfect then, thick and ready to fill me, but on my terms, of course.
I took my time as he moved underneath me. We looked into each other’s eyes as if we were doing something entirely new. On the single bed, I had the perfect amount of clearance to ride him, moving exactly as I liked, steadying myself with my hands on his shoulders.
Good sex is good work, in some ways. I was pretty lazy, but for the right person, I was always willing to step up. I leaned over and kissed him like my life depended on it. His body started to tense, his core tightening, which drew out a long and wounded sound from his throat.
“Locke, please…”
“Say it again,” I whispered, and there was something almost reverent in my tone.
I didn’t want him to beg. I wanted to give him something he wanted, and I could tell that he wanted me oh-so-much.
“Please, Locke!” he groaned.
In the end, it didn’t take much. I came down on him one last time, his hands clenching so hard around my hips that they’d leave marks. His strong body pulsed twice, and then he dragged me down to his chest, hanging on to me so tightly that he shook.
“Fuck,” he said after a moment, and I laughed at him.
I should have felt tired after a performance like that one, but instead I felt energized. Experimentally, I wiggled a little, and I purred when I felt him twitch inside me. I might have been good to keep going, but Byron winced a little and pulled away, tugging me down to curl up next to him.
“Fuck,” he repeated. “You are going to be the death of me, Locke.”
“Certainly not,” I teased, running my hands along his arm. “We have to survive what comes next because I have so many plans for you.”
There were so many things between us, plans for our future, saving the avatars, eliminating the threat for good, finding Eros… not forgetting the tangle of gold cords that connected me to Byron, Rane and Mads; and I had no idea how that was going to turn out.
I wanted to forget all my troubles for just a moment. Nothing mattered except being in Byron’s arms, touching him, kissing him and loving him. Let me enjoy it for as long as I can, I silently pleaded.
Chapter 11
Locke
After ten minutes of silence as Byron stroked my hair while I basked in his warmth. Guilt seeped in like a nasty breeze sneaking under the gap of a door.
I rolled over onto my side to face him, propping myself up on my elbow. “So, are all tactical meetings conducted in your birthday suit? Because now I have a whole different idea of what the army is like.”
I probably shouldn’t have made light of the situation. But grief weighed both my mind and heart down and I needed something to boost my spirits.
Byron gave me a tolerant look. “Even the promise of pajama parties wouldn’t have gotten me into the army when I was in high school,” he said, slapping me on the ass. “Focus now, please.”
“Right.” I pretended to give him a serious look before we burst into laughter.
God, this was like the good old days of us just hanging out. In his company, I felt safe, accepted and comfortable. I hoped we’d continue to spend time together once all this mess was over.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me your plans.”
“I’ve been watching the old base to the north for the last week,” Byron advised. “It has wretched surveillance from a security standpoint. They’re not military from what I can tell.”
“You know the difference, Captain Sevarin?” I asked.
“Too many places unguarded—too many cameras that don’t work—a lot of scientists looking people coming and going for it to be a secure facility. I walked out of the place for fuck’s sake.”
“Fucking amateurs,” I snorted. “No wonder you got out.”
“Amateurs that still managed to capture a lot of folks and make life very difficult for us,” Byron reminded me.
“If it’s not the military then who is behind this?” I asked. “What do they want?”
“Mercenaries,” he said decisively. “Hired by someone with loads of money behind them.”
Good point. I rubbed my chin. How else could they conduct that blitz attack in Louisiana? They needed to have had some serious muscle and foresight.
“Mads told me that the guy who tortured us was a specialist. Trained to break people…” Byron hung his head. He didn’t need to say the rest. I knew what he meant. Dartmoor had tormented me to the point where my gifts were brought out on protective instinct.
“What else does Mads know?” I stared at Byron while questioning him.
“They bought a computer to study the gods,” he said.
What the hell? Something like that existed?
“They were too busy studying the avatars and the gods. While they were restraining the twins I escaped. I used their agony to my advantage rather than attempt to help them escape.”
I rubbed a hand on his back trying to sooth his guilt. “It’s not your fault, Byron.”
He rubbed his mouth. “I am glad you turned up. Two people can
get the job done. And with what you can do…”
“What are you saying?” I asked him. “You need a distraction?”
Byron laughed then touching my face with an odd gentleness. “God, no.”
Thank Eros.
“I need your help to create a distraction,” he said. “Get the avatars awake and out. Rip the belly out of the place. I’ve memorized all the maps. All the entry and exit points.”
For a man imbued with the wisdom of a goddess of war and strategy that was pretty darn simple and stupid, if you asked me.
“That’s your plan,” I said while getting up to pace along the room. “Are you freaking serious? They have guns! And other things that are incredibly dangerous!”
Byron smiled grimly. “And we’re gods.”
“Avatars,” I corrected. “We’re avatars of gods and we’re not bulletproof. In Paris, Mads and Rane lost their connection to their gods. Rane suspected it was some sort of device that emitted frequencies to distort the line. He’d seen similar weapons used in war. They couldn’t use their powers in the catacombs.”
Byron shrugged. “So, we’ll severe the base’s power. You’re not an avatar. You’re something else entirely. Our secret weapon.”
“Hasn’t Athena told you what I am?” I replied.
“I may have the knowledge of past avatars,” he said as silver flashed through his eyes. “Of Athena. But the gods are sick, weakened—they’re not exactly talking now.”
My heart sank. I might have been able to argue with Byron, but with his gray-eyed asshole patron, I didn’t know where I stood. Regardless of whether she’d gone mad; she still feared what Eros was capable of. What I could do. There was no changing that.
“Great.” I put my hands up against the wall and tucked my head down breathing hard.
“I know what I saw in the desert,” Byron said trying to call my attention to him. I looked up. He ran his fingers through his hair. “If you and Rane were on your own… you would have devastated that place in a matter of seconds. If I hadn’t…”
“Oh, come on, you’re blaming yourself for that too?”
Byron smiled a little at that but he quickly grew serious. “If they had taken you when you realized your full potential, they wouldn’t have held you for longer than a few minutes.”
Why did he have to remind me of the memory that I have tried so hard to forget. When I tangled those men’s love cords like spaghetti.
“The things I did,” I said stiffly.
I flinched when I felt him touch my shoulder. “What you did was more merciful than the death they planned for me and the means by which they intended to extract your power.”
“So that justifies what I did?”
Byron’s face turned hard and stubborn.
“We can get them out if…” he paused. “If we’re willing to do now what we’ve always been capable of.”
A sinking feeling gripped me as I realized that he’d save the avatars with or without me. At least with me by his side, his stood a chance of surviving whatever we faced.
What he asked of me… I couldn’t… not again… there had to be another way. Back in the desert, I’d twisted the desires of the kidnappers and driven them as mad as the gods. With that righteous fury behind me, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and hurt whoever harmed Byron. I’d lost control and snapped. That could never happen again.
Byron asked too much of me. Rane and Mads would never dare. Mads would always find another way. While Rane would put himself in danger even taking the bullets to protect me from what it was Byron now asked. But I guess that was the difference between them. Byron’s strategy was to use his biggest and most destructive weapon.
I glared at him. “You and that bitch were made for each other, weren’t you?”
“Are you in or out, Locke?” he said not backing down.
“You know my answer to that.”
“I want to hear you say it. Are you’re going to do what needs to be done?”
Fire hit my veins. Along with the urge to smack and shout at him. He had no idea what it was like to do what I did.
“I’ll do what needs to be done,” I snarled.
He leaned forward as if meaning to reach for me, comfort me somehow but he pulled back at the last moment. Coldhearted Byron was back. When we were in college nothing could stop him once he set his mind to that end goal.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s talk about the plan. But we need to sleep on it first. Wake up at 3AM.”
God, he was beginning to sound like Rane.
***
Early the next morning, we ate breakfast in silence… well I didn’t eat much. Couldn’t put too much away because of the nerves scraping in my stomach. The same couldn’t be said for Byron as he munched on the twenty-year-old cereal with tinned milk.
Once we were done, Byron rolled out a map of the facility placing his hands on either end to keep it straight. For the next five minutes, he explained to me: where the avatars were being kept, where the staff monitored them, and finally where the few hired guns smoked and gambled their time away. Not much to do, I guess, amid a bunch of unconscious avatars.
“They’re located here,” he said using a glass to secure the map while he pointed to a spot in the center of the paper. A room in the heart of the facility surrounded by a laboratory, meant for testing the avatars’ blood. There were banks of computers recording data from their sleeping, heart rate and other vitals. “We could cut the power but they’ve got backup generators. So, we’re going to have to wake everyone up the old-fashioned way.”
By that he meant going right into the dragon’s lair to extract the needles from each avatar’s arms to halt the pumping of the drug used to keep them asleep, then we had to pull out each of their breathing tubes.
“We strike at dawn,” he said. “People tend to be least alert and most vulnerable then.”
Wow. He’d really thought this out to the fines detail. To me early mornings were times when hope was most readily abandoned as the night stretched for hours and the dread of getting up to face the day sunk in.
We passed another thirty minutes in preparation as we continued to study the map. We surveyed all the ins and outs, we needed an alternative in case our retreat failed. Byron made me recite and show him all our back up plans until he was confident that we could escape if need be.
At 4:30AM, Byron said, “Think you can search for some of the cords of the workers in the base? Maybe love them up a bit. Make them docile for our invasion.”
I’d never done that before. Usually I needed to see the person they belonged to or at least see them from a distance. I might have boasted godly powers but I didn’t have long distance vision. And the only time I had connected with a cord long distance was when I travelled from New York to France via Byron’s cord but that was because it connected to me.
“I’ll give it a try,” I said then focused on calling them to me.
In my mind’s eye, I saw them respond to me curling towards me, but they only reached so far. They refused to tear away from the direction of those they were connected to. I tried dialing up the love in them but they shrunk away at that like shy toddlers, they clung to their owners. Dammit. I tried a few more times with the same results. From this far away my powers were useless.
“I can’t,” I told Byron. “I need to be closer.”
“Maybe you need a bit more training.” Byron rubbed the top of my arm and I huffed.
Training. Yeah, I thought. All I can do is manifest condoms and mess up people’s lives. What other tricks did I have up my sleeves? Making people jump into a massive orgy? Hmmm… that might be a clever distraction. But what effect might that have on the avatars? In the desert when I ripped the cords of the men who’d tortured Byron, the residual effect had influenced Byron and Rane to fight each other out of jealousy. We couldn’t afford to meddle with the avatars squabbling onto of our escape. What if they turned on us and ended up harming us?
“Don’t worry.” B
yron clasped my hands between his. “We can try again when we reach the base.”
The prospect of our upcoming mission made my blood curdle.
Byron moved to a cupboard and swung open the doors to reveal a stash of weapons. Hand guns, rifles, grenades and even knives.
“Here,” Byron said as he took a handgun and shoved it into my hand. “Don’t hesitate to use this if you need to.”
The coldness of the metal bit into my palm, and I almost dropped the weapon. What did I need this for when I could inflict so much damage on my own? If I really wanted to hurt anyone, that is.
“Just in case they use those machines to dampen our power,” Byron insisted while wrapping my fingers over the gun and showing me how to hold it.
They hadn’t affected my power last time. But one couldn’t be too careful in having a backup plan especially not someone like the avatar of Athena.
“What time is it?” I asked as jitters built up in my muscles.
His eyes dropped to his wristwatch. “Time to leave.”
Panic spread from the depths of my body pumping white-hot adrenaline into my veins.
Byron stuffed a gun in his pants then packed some grenades, knives and a few more guns into a duffle bag.
Hauling the bag over his shoulder he took a flashlight into his hand. Byron gripped my hand with his free one squeezing it tight. “Come on.”
We made our way through the tunnels. They were taken over by spider webs, dampness and dust. I’d swapped my sandals for socks and boots (a size too big, mind you). Our footsteps echoed throughout the tunnel. It took us almost fifteen minutes to wind through the tunnels that were about half a mile long in order to get to the service entrance of the base. There, Byron pressed an ear to the door listening for anyone on the other side. He gave me a thumbs up to signal that we were all clear.
Blood pounded in my ears as he twisted the latch. The door gave with a soft pressurized hiss.
