The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1)

by Melissa Riddell

  Sparky keeps watch out of the windows up in the hayloft.

  After finishing the cold, unsatisfying meal that tastes like wet cardboard—I roll my bed out and lie down, hoping for a nap.

  “Good call.” Jareth follows my movements, going through the motions, face guarded.

  I shift to a more comfortable position on my side and lay my head on the inside of a bent arm. “Do you think they’ll come back?”

  He chews on his top lip for a few seconds before he catches himself.

  “It’s possible.” That vertical line appears between his eyebrows again. “Depends on the mission directive.” His face is contemplative and worried, which doesn’t bode well for my nerves.

  A million different questions swirl through my mind. Are we going to stay safe? Will the pods or ship hunt us down in the dark? How much will night travel slow the process? And how the fuck does he know about mission directives?

  I stare at him, and he nor I need to say anything. The costs of the aliens trapping him or me equates to capture or worse.

  He shakes out his bedroll and settles it next to mine. His trim, strong body stretches, and he scratches at his beard. Those black pupils dominate his eyes. A small ring of brown borders the middle.

  “You okay?” He reaches out and caresses my cheekbone, his palm resting on the side of my face.

  It’s a gesture of comfort, and I lean into it.

  “Kind of.” My own hand reaches out before pausing. I want to run my fingers along his chin, but shyness wars within.

  With my hand hovering a couple of inches away, he pushes his mouth into my fingertips.

  My heart pounds and my arm shakes, but I trail a light touch along the bristles of his beard growth.

  Removing his hand from my face, he encircles my wrist and plants a lingering kiss on the palm.

  The whiskers tickle, and I choke back a small giggle.

  I pull my hand from his mouth, desire dampened by fear of what might lie waiting beyond this room, this moment.

  Those beautiful lips curve, though not as presumptuous as usual. “I still want that kiss, you know.”

  A weak smile lifts my mouth, and I deflect the only way I know how. “Well, too bad so sad. A bet’s a bet.”

  “Hmm.” He flicks a gaze to my chin.

  “I want you to tell me the truth. Are we going to be able to make it to Florida?” Knowing he can’t read the future—I still can’t help asking the question. Plus, it allows me to avoid the current conversation direction.

  A small bump forms on the outside of his cheek. “I promised I’d get you to your sister, no matter what it takes, Red. I know how important this is to you.”

  The conviction in his voice causes a fuzzy warmth to slide along my skin and through my blood. Even though I know we won’t win against the robots if it comes to a showdown, the sincerity in his statement wraps me in comfort.

  “Thank you.” The words are barely above a whisper, but I mean them with my whole heart.

  Kodiak walks between the sleeping bags and cuddles his body smack dab in the middle to sleep—he’s a lazy dog who doesn’t say no to nap time.

  I scratch his belly, and he rolls onto his side, thumping his legs on my waist.

  “He’s got you trained, doesn’t he?” His eyes crinkle in a slow smile.

  “No. Well, a little.”

  When I quit the scratch attack, he sits and bathes his front paws with loud snorts and slurps. His body blocks my view of Jareth.

  The creak of the ladder above tells me Sparky is climbing down from the loft.

  “It is clear from the window.” When he reaches the floor, he tips his head toward Jareth and me. Finding an old wooden crate, he sits motionless near the closed wooden doors.

  I raise my head in line with the robot. “Hey, Sparky, could you not talk to those pods out there, like you did the ship? Send them away or something?”

  His head tilts. “No, Tilly. When I attempted to gain access, I was locked out.”

  The finality in his statement, and knowing he even tried, is disturbing. “That sucks.”

  “Yes, it does indeed.”

  Kodiak slides down to my feet and props his head on my leg, then closes his eyes.

  “Come here.” Jareth’s hands slide behind my shoulders and pulls me to his chest. “Get some sleep. It’s going to be hours before we can leave, but I’ll keep you safe.”

  His lips smile against my forehead. Those solid arms wrapping me in a tight embrace is like dying and going to heaven. The clean, male scent is soothing, and I let my mind wander.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When I wake, an arm lies over my waist, possessive and heavy.

  Kodiak’s head still rests on my legs, whiskers twitching with dreams. A grin stretches his lips, then drops away when his back hindleg jerks. He must be hunting in dreamland.

  Sparky sits a few feet away, helmet facing toward the doors, still watchful.

  Trying to be as quiet as possible, I move to lift Jareth’s hand away, and then still. At some point while I slept, he removed his shirt. Holy hell. Air whistles through my teeth before I shut my mouth. I don’t want him to wake, because I want to feast my hungry eyes on that naked chest.

  He lies on his left side, tattooed forearm resting on my hip. I trace the design with my stare, wishing I could explore it with my fingers. Each end of the crimson starburst has a sharp tip, but the point nearest his shoulder has black, red, and silver lines that twine with one another in a spiral dance. They twist and travel up the inside of his bicep, across his pectoral muscle, and spread to form a flame over his heart. The black and silver outline the flaming form.

  As big as my hand, the blazing tattoo is gorgeous, the colors sharp and bright. To the right of the flame, on the other side of his chest, are words written in silver and black, but in another language.

  I tear my eyes from the vivid tattoo and drink in his stomach. A tight six-pack greets me, and a light, dark trail of hair leads to his waistband. My mouth salivates, and I can’t look away.

  Shit. Shit. Shit damn. Hello, brain. Get out of the gutter, yeah? Who knew looking at this half-naked man could distract me from fearing for my life?

  “Still like what you see?”

  A small squeak bounces from my mouth, and I jump an inch off the sleeping bag. For a moment, I’m terrified I peed my pants, and sag with relief when my underwear remains dry.

  His lids are open a quarter of the way, giving him a sexy I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude. That trademark grin says hi and adds a dimple to the picture.

  The inside of my cheek squeezes between my back teeth, and I refocus on the mesmerizing tattoo. “Can I . . .” I clear my throat. Oh God, Tilly, don’t ask that. “Can I touch it?”

  He reaches out and rubs a finger along my jaw, liquid heat in his gaze. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Ha. You’re so funny, horn dog.” My voice returns to normal.

  Jareth’s hand encases mine then places the tips of my fingers over his heart. His palm rests on the back of my hand, and he guides my digits, tracing the tattoo with me.

  Every time I cross one of the silver lines, there’s a small bump as if it’s more than skin deep.

  I follow the ink to his shoulder, and he removes his hand, allowing me full access to the entire thing, from the flame to the star. Yum.

  My fingernail scrapes along the edges and goosebumps break out on his flesh. He shuts his eyes and hisses, like he’s in pain.

  I pull back. “I’m sorry, does that hurt?”

  He breathes out. “What? God, no. Don’t stop.”

  Hesitant, I stretch my hand again and retrace the red, black, and silver trail leading back to the large star on his forearm. When the twirling ink reaches the starburst, they converge inward, toward the middle. It’s not my imagination when the ridges of the silver brush my skin.

  “Jareth, what kind of tattoo is this? I’ve never seen one that’s so . . .” I try to think of an adequate term that d
escribes the ink. “3-D, interactive, even.” I stroke the lines, reveling in the firm skin and ropy muscle underneath.

  Not answering my question, he pulls me to him, moving my arm to his shoulder, away from the odd design. “What’s your very first memory, Red?”

  This sudden change of topic throws me off balance. “Uh, not sure. I’d have to mull it over for a while.” Black curls touch the cloth of his sleeping bag, pooling into the shining material.

  He traces a finger across the curve of my neck to my shoulder. The touch sends delicious chills racing throughout my body.

  “My first memory is opening my eyes to the sun, burning so bright I could only see light. And pain—terrible pain.” His finger continues a path to my arm, shifts to the flare of my hip bone, skims across my jeans, and stops on my thigh.

  “Did your mother realize what a pain in the ass you were and leave you outside in the sun, hoping you’d get kidnapped or die of heat exhaustion?”

  Stroking my leg with a thumb, he smiles, and the crooked tooth pokes between full lips. “I’m sure she wishes she did some days.”

  His hand grabs mine, and he traps it between our bodies, pressing it to his heart. “No matter what happens, this belongs to you—no one else.” The steady beat pulses next to my hand, as if it’s trying to jump from his chest and into my grasp.

  Can he hear my own heart trying to pound its way into his hands?

  Words stay locked in my brain, and I lie with his warm skin on mine, content with the intimacy. Gathering courage once again, I stroke his firm jaw, skim fingers through his beard, over his eyebrows, down his nose, then brush those soft lips.

  He’s giving his heart to you, and you’ve nothing to say?

  “I, um—” My throat closes, and I try again. “Jareth, I have trouble managing my heart much less . . .” Though my tone is light, there’s an undercurrent of fear rising to the surface. “I hope you understand.”

  Sissy first, before I make any kind of commitment. Plus, something nags at me, but I can’t place a finger on what it is. Or I don’t want to examine it, afraid of what I’ll find.

  Even though his face falls, he offers a small, sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll wait until you’re ready to give you and me a chance.”

  He pulls a blanket over my body, tucking me in as if I’m a small child.

  “I wasn’t kidding about wanting to be there every moment you wake, sleep, and dream. Let me in, Tilly. We’re meant for each other. I want to wrap your little body with mine and block out the world, hide you deep inside.”

  Holy shit.

  The speech stuns me, and I flounder, desperate to change the serious turn of the conversation. “What happened to you not doing the ‘talky, feely crap’? That sounds kind of sick, like something Dexter or Hannibal Lecter would say or do.” I pull away an inch or two and give him a mock glare. “You’re not a damn serial killer, are you?” Because the way my luck runs, I could totally see this happening—me falling in love with an evil villain.

  “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  “Uh, and how’s that?” I snort back a laugh.

  “Keep me with you, see if I like Chianti and fava beans, or if know more than I should about blood spatter.” He swipes a curl from his temple and tucks it behind an ear.

  I push his chest. “Not funny, jackass.”

  A low rumble shakes his chest, and he nuzzles my neck. “You’re going to be the end of me.”

  His whiskers scrape across my flesh with a slow, sensuous tingle. “Down, boy, down.” My sanity wavers.

  Kodiak’s head lifts with a questioning angle.

  “Not you.” I pat the top of his fur-covered head. “The other animal in the room.”

  Jareth pulls back and glances at the dying light floating through the windows, then sighs.

  “It’s about time to head out. Better grab your stuff.”

  He pulls away and dresses himself, and a pang of regret shoots through me at the loss of more than his warmth.

  I file out of the old barn behind Jareth and stand under the cover of the evening twilight.

  The disappearing rays of the sun sink below the horizon, deepening the sky to a dark plum and bathing the golden fields in a purplish-pink glow.

  The gate that opens onto the dusty road, signals a new leg of the journey.

  A soft whinny snort sounds from behind.

  I freeze for a moment and glance at Jareth. He shrugs, and whips around.

  The horse, Blondie, approaches and tries to nip Jareth’s backpack with its large teeth.

  “Well, hello to you too.” Jareth strokes the side of the stallion’s neck. “Bet I know what you’re lookin’ for.”

  Jareth reaches a hand inside his pack and pulls out a not so fresh carrot.

  The horse takes half the vegetable into his mouth and chomps, lowering his head to allow Jareth access to stroke his mane.

  Tilting his head back, Jareth peers from beneath dark lashes as if daring me to say something. “I’m getting that kiss after all.”

  “No.” Shocked and stalling for time, I sputter. “I—uh—” My foot stamps on the ground. “This isn’t the time or place. And you said it yourself, you lost earlier.” I back up a step. “Plus, it gives me the damn creeps standing out here in the open. Let’s go. We can discuss semantics later.”

  I raise my chin to the sky to make a point and to reassure myself nothing approaches.

  “Besides, the original bet was you had to catch a horse to ride. There’re no saddles in the barn, and I doubt either one of us can manage bareback.” Proud of the loophole I’ve managed to construct, I smile. Inside, though, I’m shaking like a leaf, torn between wanting and dreading his kiss.

  The smirk he gives me when I mention bareback makes my toes curl. “Red, you know what I think?” He saunters forward, a predatory gleam that invades my soul.

  I’m unable to trust my voice, so I shake my head instead.

  I don’t want to know what you think.

  “You’re afraid you might like my kiss. You certainly weren’t balking at the house the other night.”

  “That was different. I wasn’t processing things in a normal manner. I-I’d just watched a man die right in front of my eyes. It was a stress reaction.”

  Jareth’s mere inches away, leaving me no other course but to hold his gaze. He’s so close, I can see the small dimple, the slight cleft in his chin that winks, and the sharp tip of his tooth.

  “Is that so?” The night swallows his eyes, like I’m staring into a black abyss, unable to free myself from a never-ending fall.

  A batch of raven, unruly curls fall into his eyes. He brushes them off his forehead and a few more manage to slip from behind his ears. An urge to touch them, to feel the silky softness slide over my fingers, consumes me. The whiskers on his jaw make my hand twitch, eager to explore the rough, yet delicate, texture.

  Why do I want this man so much? I can’t get him out of my head, even when we’re in danger of incineration by enemies.

  With a hint of defiance, I stand my ground, determined not to let him see how much his presence affects me. “A kiss doesn’t scare me.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  No, in all honesty, a kiss doesn’t send me scurrying. It’s his kiss that frightens the hell out of my brain—and body. The man jumbles my thoughts and puts my mission in danger.

  To prove my opposition is real, I hold his gaze with an unspoken challenge.

  Those black pools suck my soul deeper into their depths.

  Longing shines in his ravenous gaze along with something else, an emotion I don’t want to acknowledge or think about. It shakes me to my core, and I’m vulnerable at the unexpected passion swirling within.

  Unable to stop myself, my arms slip around his waist and grip his back. I relish the feel of his frame against mine, the heat smoldering under my fingers.

  The night air settles over my flesh like a caress.

  Ev
en though I rail at my body’s treachery, it doesn’t care. My inner cheerleader does a flip. Who are you fooling?

  He’s a tempest, and I’m a small vessel unable to break from the dangerous pull. My resolve to stay aloof crumbles with each second ticking by.

  His lips meet mine.

  I gasp at the tremor running down my legs and draw in a deep breath.

  A hand snakes to the back of my head, and he strings his fingers through my hair. Slow and steady, my mouth moves with his in harmony. The kiss deepens and becomes more urgent by the second. His arms pull me into his body, holding me next to his chest in a solid embrace.

  Delicious, so delicious. His mouth is like cinnamon, apples, and spice.

  He moves his lips with an urgent and intoxicating rhythm. True to his word, he pushes his tongue between my lips, and I meet it, stroke for stroke.

  I don’t ever want this feeling to end. Why have I fought against it for so long?

  He groans into my mouth.

  The little crooked tooth bites into the soft flesh of my bottom lip, and I fight back a moan.

  In this moment, I am Tilly no more. I’m someone else—some drowning wild thing, which clings to his body like he’s a life raft.

  His other hand moves to the side of my face, and his thumb slides up my cheek to trace an eyebrow.

  The raspy stubble of beard scraping my chin electrifies me, the slight sting causing intense pleasure to shoot across my skin.

  Twining both hands around his neck, I lock him in place. My body melds with his.

  Those velvet lips break away and trail the length of my throat.

  For a crashing moment, the sensation brings a flicker of memory from the horrible night in Abilene, and my body stiffens.

  “Shh.” He caresses the side of my face. “I got you. You’re safe with me.”

  He pulls away, causing me to utter a breath of complaint at the loss of warmth.

  There’s something written on his face, like a burden or secret he wants to share. And I wonder if he’s at a loss on how to start.