Last Kiss Goodnight

by Gena Showalter

  Just before contact she could not avoid, the other giant batted his hand away. "I will not allow you to harm her, fiend."

  Though the blond hissed, he didn't make another move toward her.

  She recognized their voices. The good. And the evil.

  "Pay no attention to him. I am the one called X, by the way, and I have been helping you as much as I'm able." The dark-haired male offered her a warm smile. "You are not dead. You live. You had a lot of internal damage from all these years with your father, but you are now healing quite nicely."

  X. The good. "Thanks to you," she told him.

  "And Solo."

  Solo. Her gaze swept the area. There was an alabaster bench a few feet away, but it was empty. "Is he here?"

  "No. As I said, he has never traveled here."

  Disappointment filled her. "Where's here?"

  "Alloris. I am Solo's Altilium, and to protect him from rejection, I have kept him away, guarding him until he's ready."

  She was more confused than ever.

  "I'm called Dr. E," the blond interjected smoothly. He reminded her of her father, when Jecis spoke to the crowd inside the big red tent during a performance. A soothing tone meant to beguile, hiding a wealth of wickedness.

  "He is not an Altilium," the other said, "but an Epoto."

  "Am not." The blond offered her a smile as well, but his was far from warm. His was all teeth and no substance.

  "I don't know what either of those things are." Wait. She had heard their voices. Not just inside her mind, like before, but through her ears. Ears that had not worked in years. How was . . . why had . . . this wasn't possible. Was it?

  Her entire body began to shake. How long had she dreamed of such a thing? Craved it with all of her being? How many times had she cried about the fact that she would never again have it? Countless. And yet here, now . . .

  Joy burst through her, as intoxicating as wine. "What do you want from me?" she asked, then blinked. Her voice! She'd just heard her own voice, as well. It was different from what she remembered, more grown-up, deeper.

  I truly can hear!

  "I'm not sure I'll ever have an opportunity like this again," X said determinedly, "so I'm going to throw a lot at you. Solo is a good man, and he's attracted to you. You can grow that attraction. And if you do, he will allow you to take care of him, now and always, and he will allow you to stay with him, now and always. Isn't that what you wanted?"

  "No, I--"

  "Need to put his needs above your own, yes."

  She frowned, finishing, "Want to live on my own."

  "If you do as I suggest," X continued, as if she hadn't spoken, "he will do the same for you, I promise you, and you will be happier than you've ever been. He will take such good care of you."

  "Don't listen to him," Dr. E replied, waving a dismissive hand through the air. "Solo is a terrible man. Just look at him. Hideous! And you're so beautiful. You deserve better, a handsome prince to come and save the day. Besides, putting someone else's needs above your own? Stupid!"

  "Solo isn't hideous," Vika snapped. He had a rough, masculine beauty that wasn't apparent at first glance, but oh, by the second, third, and fourth, all she'd wanted to do was stare at him.

  X grinned at her, a proud gleam in his eyes. "Solo can help you, Vika, and you can help him. But the choice is yours."

  "Choice? There is no choice. If you place yourself in Solo's care, you will be placing yourself in a worse situation," Dr. E said. "Think about it. Solo landed himself in a cage, and you earned yourself a beating. You two really only know how to get into trouble. If you get together . . ." He shuddered.

  She ignored Dr. E, saying to X, "I will set Solo free." The cuffs were still a problem, but she couldn't remain at the circus any longer. She just couldn't. At long last, her new life would begin.

  As Dr. E sputtered, X said, "You will free him, yes, but then you will leave him to hide from the rest of the world, despite the fact that you are meant to be joined to him, and he to you."

  Joined? "As long as he's in those cuffs, he's a target for Jecis."

  "Even still, you will be stronger together, two halves of a whole." He was flickering in and out of view, his voice alternating between fading and growing in volume. "Tell me you'll stay with him, no matter what."

  "I can't," she whispered. She would free him and strike out on her own. She would free the other otherworlders, too, but that was all she could promise. "I'm sorry."

  Dr. E laughed with glee, the hunch in his shoulders suddenly less exaggerated. "Exactly what I wanted to hear."

  Sadness tinged X's frown--and she noticed his shoulders had begun to stoop. "A wrong turn leads to a wrong end. You'll find yourself in a place you were never supposed to visit."

  "So dramatic," Dr. E tsked under his tongue. With a wink, and a chortling, "I'll be seeing you again, cutie. Real soon," he disappeared.

  X sighed and peered deep into her eyes. "Sleep," he said, and sighed.

  "But I'm not . . . tired." Her eyes closed, and darkness swamped her mind. She knew nothing more.

  *

  In the ensuing days, Solo came to understand three very important facts.

  Vika was naturally seductive.

  She was instinctively alluring.

  She was a freaking incurable disease.

  She slept off and on, sometimes mumbling to herself about wrong turns and right turns and he swore he'd go on a no-mumbles diet as soon as this was over. It was just too adorable, and he'd reached his limit. And okay. Fine. It wasn't just the mumbles that had reduced him to this state. Every time the monsters had attacked, he'd lain beside her to shield her. The warmth of her breath had caressed his skin. The sweetness of her scent had filled his nose. The beat of her heart had synced with his, making him feel as if they were one being.

  Everything had worked together to propel his need for her into a new stratosphere.

  Every time she stirred, he would rush to her side to give her food and water. She would eat, and he would eat, and he would start praying the monsters would return so that he had an excuse to cuddle her.

  He needed to get himself under control. Because, despite the raggedness of his need, he wasn't going to let himself have her. He couldn't. He'd thought about it and had come up with one hundred and two reasons why he had to avoid kissing her, tasting her, stripping her, stroking her, and having her--and the thousand other things he'd imagined doing to her.

  At the moment, though, he couldn't recall a single one of his reasons.

  Well, no, that wasn't exactly true. He could think of one. She might not want him the same way he wanted her. Yes, she had once kissed him, but that could have been out of curiosity. Yes, she had fed him extra food, but that could have sprung from the goodness of her heart, not romantic feelings for him.

  Now she would either feel obligated to him or hope to avoid upsetting him. She might let him do anything he wanted, but not out of passion.

  He wanted her passion or nothing.

  So, rather than plotting ways to romance her, he would be better served spending his time coming up with a new plan of escape. Yeah. That's what he'd do. And maybe he would stop wanting, needing, craving, wishing, and hoping for what could never be.

  Eighteen

  Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come along.

  --SONG OF SOLOMON 2:10

  COOL WATER DRIBBLED ON Vika's lips and slid down her throat, and food soon followed. The actions dragged her out of the darkness and into the light. She blinked open her eyes.

  Though her vision was clouded, she was able to see Solo looming over her, a streak of blood under his eye.

  They really were together, she marveled.

  He was holding a bottle to her lips. She swallowed what he poured, never having tasted anything so magnificent, she was sure. She wanted to close her eyes and savor, but had no desire to look away from Solo.

  His dark hair was in utter disarray, the locks sticking out in spikes. He had his hea
d down, his chin pressed into his sternum. His lashes were lowered, hiding the crystal clear blue of his eyes and fanning out as prettily as any peacock's tail. She had noticed the aristocratic slope of his nose and the sharp cheekbones the day she'd bathed him, but she had missed the lush, pink lips women would have paid a fortune to acquire.

  He was rugged and capable and fearsome, and for just a second--or two--she wished she had told X she would do whatever was necessary to stay with Solo, that she would place her life in his hands and trust him to keep her safe. Now and always.

  Wait. X. Alloris. The Altilium, whatever that was. The dream that hadn't really been a dream, she realized now. As much time as she'd spent in her head throughout the years, she knew the difference between fantasy and reality, and there was no confusing the two in the light of day. She really had talked to X and Dr. E, the Epoto. They really were out there, somewhere, and they knew Solo.

  X, who clearly loved him.

  Dr. E, who clearly hated him.

  Did Solo know they were there? That X considered him "a charge"?

  Solo, who was so close she had only to reach out to touch him.

  So few people realized there was another world around them, just as real.

  "Hey, you," she said.

  Only silence greeted her.

  Sharp disappointment cut through her. Her ears had stopped working, and that meant she wouldn't be able to hear Solo's voice, either. And oh, how she would have loved to hear him. He would have a low baritone, she would bet. Low and rumbling. Sexy.

  Solo glanced up, blinked in surprise. "You're awake."

  Again, silence.

  The disappointment intensified, but she easily beat it back. She was alive, and she was with the best man she'd ever met. What did she have to complain about?

  "I am." She stretched her arms over her head, arched her back. The bones popped.

  Heat exploded in Solo's eyes, the blue suddenly reminding her of living flames. The callused hand at her nape eased her to the ground. He moved away from her, taking his delicious body heat with him.

  "How do you feel?" he asked.

  Not as good as I did a few seconds ago. "Wonderful, thank you." Better than she had in years. "But how . . ." She scanned her surroundings. She was inside his cage, the bars all around her. Beyond them stretched the vast expanse of the Nolands. Random fires blazed, ribbons of thick smoke wafted, and green and black insects buzzed in every direction, even swarming a tree that had dared to survive, its limbs budding with life--but quickly withering.

  Her father . . . he'd . . . he'd . . . caged her. The man responsible for her well-being, the man who professed to love her above all things, had placed her with one of his "animals" during a solar flare, leaving her vulnerable to the attack of the Nolanders.

  She should not have been surprised, but she was. He'd done many, many terrible things to her, but this . . . Grief pierced her, wounding her far more than Matas's fist. Matas, who must have shown Jecis the video.

  She'd known her father was cruel, had known he enjoyed lording his power over her and everyone else. Had known he thrilled in punishing anyone who defied him, but . . . but, she was his little girl. His princess. His beloved.

  Well, this would make leaving the circus that much easier. If she was ever allowed outside the cage, she thought, fighting a wave of panic. Was she to be one of the sideshows now? Was this to be a life sentence?

  Was she to be treated as a lowly animal?

  Oh, sweet mercy. All these years, she'd done nothing to stop her father from locking up innocent people. People who had experienced these very emotions, but without any hope.

  She couldn't free them while they still wore those cuffs, as she'd finally decided to do. She couldn't allow Jecis to find them and bring them back. She had to stay, no matter the pain inflicted upon her, and she had to continue her search for the key.

  First, though, she would have to get out of the cage.

  Sorry, X, but I can't pack up Solo and let him go just yet.

  Solo tapped her gently on the shoulder to gain her attention. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

  For her. Her. One of his tormentors. After everything, he still desired to help her. "I . . . I . . ." Wanted to cry. Wanted to sob and beg for his forgiveness. "I'm so sorry. I know there's nothing I can say--"

  "Vika," he said.

  "--to make things better, but I'll try. I will. You have my word. I won't let him keep you--"

  "Vika."

  "--locked up anymore than necessary. The moment I'm free, I'll look for the key more intently."

  He leaned down, getting in her face. "Vika!"

  She blinked up at him. "Yes?"

  "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, settling back on his haunches.

  Confusion returned. He thought, what? That she was apologizing simply to keep him calm? Well, if that was the case, he wouldn't believe a single word she uttered on the subject of freedom, would he?

  "Your father left a blanket for you. I let you use it as a pillow for a while, but when you began to heal, I took it and rigged it in the corner as a curtain. For privacy . . . when you need to use the chamber pot he also left. I think that's what it's called."

  Heat flooded her cheeks. "O-okay. Thanks." She shouldn't be embarrassed. She actually deserved this. He and the others had had to endure that kind of violation since their capture.

  "Just so you know, I bathed you," he said, "but I never removed your clothing and I never looked where I shouldn't."

  As she had done to him. The heat intensified.

  She looked herself over and saw that she was wearing the same clothes she'd worn to confront her father, the plain tee, and the flowing pants. At least she was comfortable.

  "Thank you, Solo. Really. For everything."

  A stiff nod. "You're welcome."

  Her gaze swept over him. He still wore the loincloth, his big, beautiful body on display. His skin was a luminous bronze, each of his muscles so well defined they looked painted on.

  Breath caught in her throat. "So, uh, how long have we been here?"

  "Three days."

  Three whole days. Fifty hours rather than seventy-two, for time was not the same here. During those fifty hours, Solo could have bound her. He hadn't. He could have threatened to withhold medicine and food until she swore to aid him. He hadn't. He could have fed her to the Nolanders to save himself. He hadn't.

  I'm the monster in this relationship. "Are you all right?" she asked hesitantly.

  He blinked, frowned. "Why?"

  "You have blood on your face."

  He reacted as if she'd slapped him, spinning to hide the fact that he was scrubbing his skin with a vigor that astonished her.

  "Let me," she said, but he acted as if she hadn't spoken. She sighed. "Did the monsters hurt you?"

  "You know about them?"

  "Yes. To keep them out of the trailers, Jecis had the windows removed, the walls reinforced with steel, and the doors padlocked."

  "He should have put us inside your trailer, then," he said, still wiping at his face.

  "And allow you to find and hide weapons to use on him later?"

  He popped his jaw. "Do you know of a safe place to hide outside the cage?"

  Hoping to bust out of here, was he, while there were no armed guards? "I don't recommend fighting the Nolanders on their home baseball court. Now, will you stop doing that and let me help you?"

  He stilled. His hand fell to his side. Slowly he turned and met her gaze, his eyes so frosted over she shivered.

  Still, she held out her hand. "Rag." He'd helped her. Now she would help him, even in so small a way. Despite the fact that he had scrubbed so hard he'd left a red welt on one side of his face, the blood remained.

  Reluctantly, he gave her what she wanted.

  "Lean down here."

  Inch by inch he obeyed, a mask falling over his features.

  She gently wiped at the crimson streak. Her arm trembled, the action almost too much
for an arm that hadn't been used in three days, but still she persisted.

  "People play baseball on a field," he rasped.

  "That's what I said. Isn't it?"

  "You said court." Solo's gaze never left her. He watched her every reaction, as if . . . what? As if he wanted to know her every emotion? Well, he would discover that she liked tending him and looking at him. Especially at his lips. Those beautiful, lush lips.

  Right now they were pink. When his appearance changed, they would turn as red as his skin. Would they still be as soft as she remembered? she wondered. As sweet?

  "You're staring," he pointed out, his voice tight.

  "Does that bother you?"

  His tongue flicked out, swiped. "No."

  To have that tongue in her mouth . . . to know what it was like to press her own against it . . . She shivered forcefully. "It did before. You threatened to kill me."

  "That was before."

  Before . . . what?

  "And I will never hurt you, Vika." He reached out, his thumb tracing the seam of her mouth.

  At the moment of contact, her lips began to tingle. They parted of their own accord, and a heated, needy exhalation escaped her. "I know you won't. Just like I will never hurt you." She forced herself to finish cleaning him--before she did something they might both regret. "See? I'm harmless."

  He didn't pull back. He stared at her, the fire in his eyes intensifying. Finally, he leaned toward her. "I'm sorry," he croaked, "but I have to do this."

  "What--"

  He kissed her, silencing her. His lips pressed against hers, lingering for one second, two, as though testing her reaction. Yes! This was what she'd wanted. And no wonder. It was magnificent, his lips softer than before. When she offered no protest, he lifted his head and studied her face. Whatever he saw, he must have liked, because he lowered a second time. His tongue flicked out, and she eagerly opened for him.

  Their tongues thrust together, and, oh, this kiss was so much better than the one before, when she had taken what she shouldn't have. He went slowly at first, coaxing her, but she didn't need coaxing. She needed more.

  Somehow, he understood what she couldn't vocalize. He increased the pressure, the speed, and forced her head to tilt, giving himself deeper access, dominating her mouth, branding her soul-deep, consuming her. She loved every second of it, was engaged body and mind, swept up, lost. Happy to be lost.

  He was so hot, a fire against her skin. He was so necessary. Suddenly she couldn't imagine trying to take a breath without him. He was here, and he was hers, and this was beautiful. A beautiful kiss from a beautiful man.