by J. R. Ward
God, she hoped he was being honest with her.
Unable to stay still, she walked around the fire pit three or four times. Stopped and looked again to the tunnel where her host had gone. When he’d suggested he be the one to go get her pack, she’d agreed. Had that been a mistake? Was he even now selling her grandfather’s weapons and ammo on the prison’s black market, or whatever they called it?
She should have gone with him—
The sound of heavy footfalls brought her head up, and when she recognized the scent, she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.
The Jackal emerged from the darkness, and he had something in his arms.
“I got some food,” he said as he headed by her. “I figured you must be hungry.”
When he kept right on going, she didn’t immediately follow, and he glanced over the provisions at her. “Are you coming?”
“We’re not staying here?”
“Does it look like there’s a bath where you’re standing.”
Falling into step with him, she peeled her pack from his shoulders and strapped it on. “So where’s this bath place?”
“Close.”
Some distance along, he stopped short. Looked both ways. Triggered something. “We’re here.”
As a section of the rock walling slid back, Nyx recoiled. But not because things smelled bad.
On the contrary, the scent of clean water was as obvious as it was a surprise.
Nyx walked forward, called by the relief from the cloying aroma of earth. As she entered a narrow passageway, she rushed forward, her way lit by candles that flared one by one down at the floor. In the back of her mind, she had the sense that he was lighting her path, willing the wicks to life.
Then she made a corner and faltered as she confronted a dense black space. The sound, though… oh, that was gently falling water. And there was humidity in the air—and warmth.
The Jackal stepped into the darkness behind her. “This is where I go when I need…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Then again, as candles flared in a broad circle around a natural spring, he didn’t have to.
“Oh… my God,” she whispered.
From somewhere in the ceiling, a natural flow of water dropped into a ten-foot-wide pool, some kind of heat vent down in the natural basin bubbling the clear water and causing steam to rise up.
“I thought you might like it here.” He put the bundle down. “So, yes. At any rate.”
He sat on the smooth back of an enormous boulder, unpacking bread and what looked like cheese. There was also an old-fashioned milk bottle filled with something the color of a red poker chip.
“This is not fancy,” he said, “but you can have it all.”
Nyx approached him and lowered herself onto the granite “sofa.” “What about you?”
“I can find more for me. It’s more important for you to be strong.”
He leaned to the side and took something out of a hip pocket. Flipping the cloth free of its folds, he made a little table and then laid out the picnic.
“I wish I had something better to offer.” He opened the glass bottle. “This tastes wretched, but it has singlehandedly kept me from getting scurvy.”
He took a deep drink and swallowed. As he closed his eyes, she thought it was a little odd that he was savoring the stuff as if it were wine—
His lids flipped up. “It’s safe.”
“Safe?”
“Untampered with.” He offered the drink to her. “I didn’t make it, so I have to be sure it’s okay for you.”
Nyx took the glass container, her fingers brushing his. “Thank you.”
He nodded and then tore off a piece from the loaf. As he chewed, he closed his eyes again. Then he did the same with the cheese.
“This is all safe as well.”
Putting her lips to the open neck of the container, she had a thought that his mouth had been where hers was now—and that really shouldn’t have mattered.
As she took a test taste, she frowned and looked at the red liquid. “This is Kool-Aid. Or at least that’s what it tastes like.”
“What is that?”
“I’m not sure whether this has any vitamins in it.” She drank some more. “But it’s good.”
Funny how everything was relative. Back home, she would have given the swill a solid pass. Down here? It was strangely comforting.
“I haven’t had this since back in the seventies,” she murmured. “I used to make it for Posie before her transition.”
“Another sister?”
“Yes, the youngest in the family. Do you want some more of this?”
“No, it’s all for you.”
“I’m willing to share.”
When he just leaned back on the rock wall and extended his long legs, she shrugged and finished what was there. Then she hit the bread, which had been baked fresh and tasted pretty damn good, and the cheese, which had almost no taste but was definitely not spoiled. She ate fast, her hunger much sharper than she’d thought.
Then again, the sense of imminent danger made her feel like she could be interrupted, in a bad way, at any second.
And then the food was gone.
Nyx shifted her eyes to the swirling water because things got too intense when she was looking at him. But as the silence went on, she had to glance over at the male.
His eyes were closed, his breathing even. But he wasn’t asleep.
“Finished?” he said softly.
“Yes.”
His lids opened, but not very far, that vivid blue stare glowing.
“How many people know about this place?” she heard herself ask.
Why does that matter, she thought. Even though she knew exactly why she was making the inquiry.
“Kane and Lucan. Two others. But they won’t come here. I told them to stay out.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Why do you think.”
* * *
The female—Nyx—looked to the falling water again, and as the Jackal recognized where her eyes were, he also knew where her thoughts had gone. She didn’t want to speak them out loud, and he respected that, but her scent was giving her away.
“No one will come here. You’re safe,” he said.
“I don’t feel safe.”
“You have your weapons.” He thought of Lucan. “And I’ve seen you use them.”
“I didn’t cut that male.”
“You would have if he’d moved.”
“True.” Her eyes returned to his own. “What is he?”
The Jackal debated playing dumb, but just shook his head instead. “That’s his story to tell, not mine.”
“So he’s not just a vampire.”
“Not my story.” He let his stare drift down to her lips. “Do you want to get into the water?”
“Are you going to stay here?”
“I’ll give you my back. If you want it.”
As he waited for her response, he reminded himself what this was all about. They were using each other, and it was a relief to set those boundaries. Meanwhile, inside his body, down to his very marrow, things stirred, things he had not felt in so long that he had come to believe and accept that they had been killed, casualties of his prison experience. This female had proved otherwise, and he was not losing the opportunity. But more than that, there was the satisfaction that in laying with her, he would hurt another, hurt the one who had done such damage to him. Even if he was the only one who knew it—and he was going to have to keep it that way—the rebalance of power, the reclamation of his autonomy, was nourishment to his blackened soul.
Before he could act upon his instincts, however, something occurred to him.
“Why did your family send you on this suicidal mission?” he asked abruptly. “Have you no brothers? No sire?”
Her brows arched. “Males aren’t the only people who are capable of things.”
“No. This should have been carried out by a male relation of your bloodline.
Have they no shame?”
Nyx seemed to need a moment to gather herself. “Wow. You know, in the hundred years since you ended up down here, a lot has changed. They let us girls drive cars and hold jobs—oh, and we can vote. Or, well, if I was a human, I could vote. But still.”
“I have offended you,” he said levelly. “For that I am sorry.”
Nyx tilted her head. “But wait, lemme guess. You’re sticking with your dated and sexist position.”
“You expect me to apologize for wanting to protect females? You will not get that, now or ever.”
“ ‘Protection’ is another word for subjugate.”
“It is? You must explain.”
“You think you need to protect me because I’m weaker than you are.”
“I can most certainly lift more than you can.”
“And that’s everything? Please. Spare me the caveman routine.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Your problem is that you think being able to bench-press a car gives you the right to dictate things that are none of your business.”
“You’ll have to remind me of this when I ensure your safety against the guards.”
“I’ll save myself, thank you very much—”
“It must be nice to know everything about everything. And you accuse me of being an overlord? All you need is a castle and a moat and you’re a medieval knight. At least in your own mind.”
“That’s where it counts most, buddy—”
“Fates, you can’t ever concede a point—”
The two of them were speaking faster and louder, and in the back of his mind, he knew what was happening. Both of them were uneasy with the sexual attraction, unsure of how far to take things, but dearest Virgin Scribe, he was hungry. For her.
And she was the same. Her scent had changed, and everything that was male in him recognized her arousal—and was driven to do something about it.
“—males like you boxing us in, making us feel less than—” She stopped. “What.”
“Do go on.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I enjoy watching you argue with yourself.”
“FYI, you were tossing a few sentences back there yourself, Judgy McJudgerson.”
He shook his head and frowned. “I’m sorry? I am not a magistrate?”
Nyx opened her mouth. Closed it. “Have you ever heard of a meme?”
“Of course. A performer in black and white who doesn’t speak.”
“That’s a mime. A meme is…” As she seemed to let her thought recede, her temper appeared to deflate. “You don’t know anything about the Internet, do you. Social media. Microsoft. Apple.”
“Small and supple, you mean? And the latter is a fruit I have long missed the acquaintance of. As for the rest, I’m afraid you have me at a loss.” As they stared at each other, he knew she was tallying his deficiencies with regard to the modern world. “You can stop that right now. Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. I don’t need or desire your sympathy.”
She looked to the swirling water again. “I just can’t imagine being down here for so long, that’s all.”
As she struggled, the Jackal cursed under his breath. “I have missed much then?”
“In a hundred years, yes.” She cleared her throat. Looked back at him. “By the way, is it okay if I just call you Jack? The ‘the’ thing is a little weird.”
He had to smile. “You may call me whatever you wish.”
“Even if it’s a curse word?”
“Rest assured you would not be the first.”
“That I can believe.”
He found himself wanting to smile. “Tell me, what would you pick?”
“Out of the full catalogue of bad words?” She regarded him with grave seriousness. “I think I would go with… ‘boneheaded chauvinistic throwback boomer.’ ”
The Jackal blinked a number of times. “I don’t recognize those words as curses. And I’m not sure what this backwards-pitched boomer is?”
Ducking her head, she hid a smile he was desperate to see. “I guess I’m more of a lady than I thought. ‘Twat-waffle’ and ‘fucktard’ just seemed below the belt and inappropriate.”
“Twat-waffle? What is that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not good.”
They fell silent again, but the tension was gone—although not the heat. Therefore, he felt compelled to say, “I would kiss you the now, if it would not offend.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was out of an obligation to all that was rational that Nyx tried on a bunch of responses to the kiss question in her head, making a deep cognitive dive. Into Netflix and Spotify.
Emma Thompson, ca. Sense and Sensibility: You must cease and desist all such lustful thoughts, you beast.
Emma Stone, ca. Zombieland: Over your dead body.
Julia Roberts, ca. Pretty Woman: Big mistake. Huge.
Cardi B, in any situation: Bitch, please.
All of those worked. Unfortunately, what was more likely to come out of her mouth was straight-up Jennifer Lawrence: I volunteer as tribute.
Eight hours, Nyx thought. Wasn’t that what the gentlemale in the prison clothes had said? Maybe ten.
So it was going to be a very long time until she and Jack could get going to the Wall.
And talking was overrated, wasn’t it.
“I’ll do the kissing,” she muttered. “Thank you very much.”
With that, she crossed the space between them with her lips, putting them on his. And as the softness of his mouth registered, she was surprised, but that made no sense. All mouths were soft, even if they came attached to big, strong bodies. And what do you know. In spite of his obvious arousal, he didn’t jump her. Instead, Jack stayed where he was, reclining against the smooth rock, letting her set the pace as she explored and… enjoyed.
Tilting her head, she deepened things, running her tongue along his lower lip. Then she licked inside of him.
The shaking that rose up from his body was erotic. The way his breath caught was hotter than hell. The taste of him and the scent of him and—
He pulled back sharply, his glittering blue eyes finding hers. There was a flush on his face and the cords in his neck were straining, like he was forcing himself to stay put.
“You do not disappoint,” he said roughly. “Not in the slightest.”
That was when he grabbed her and pulled her onto his chest. His kiss was nothing like hers. It was not tentative. It wasn’t a caress of lips. It wasn’t soft, lilting, a polite exploration that was a prelude to passion.
He was a full-blooded, fully aroused male and he took what he wanted, his hands biting into her upper arms, his mouth hard on hers, catching… owning. And she told herself that she felt it all so acutely because her senses were alive in this dangerous, strange prison.
But that was bullshit. She would have felt the same up above, in the real world, if they were out on a date and he was kissing her up against a car in a restaurant’s parking lot. Her body was alive because of him, not where they were.
“Will you let me inside,” he asked against her mouth.
“Yes,” she breathed. Even as she told herself to stay quiet.
Her need for him was something she felt like she should hide. It gave him power over her, the kind that had nothing to do with the dead lift thing or the bullcrap that came with his antiquated view of females.
But like her response was a secret? Especially as she split her legs and sat on his hard, muscled thigh, her core rubbing against him, creating delicious friction. And as if he knew what she was doing, he purred, deep in his throat, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of her neck. When her hair tie was pulled out, she knew that was the prelude to him taking her clothes off, and she was ready for the naked, starved for the next level to all this—
Just as Jack had overtaken her when she’d first entered the prison’s labyrinth, he again moved so fast, she couldn’t track him. One moment, he was underneath her and their mouths were fused. The next, he was all the way o
n the far side of the pool.
As he began to pace back and forth, he put one of his hands to his forehead. Meanwhile, she was stuck on the stone sofa, wondering what the hell had happened.
What the hell had gone wrong.
But he’d been feeling her. She knew it.
Hell, she could see it, in that bulge in the front of his loose pants.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” he snapped. “I am perfectly well.”
“Well, that’s good. You know, you look fine. You look totally, completely fine. I mean, honestly, the poster child for fine.”
“Will you please stop talking,” he muttered.
“You could make me. If you kissed me again.”
At that, he stopped and looked over at her. She braced herself to be called a hussy, or some other old-fashioned word. Instead, the full force of his sexual arousal sizzled across the warm, humid space.
“You’re afraid of me,” she said. “Aren’t you.”
“I am not.”
“Yes, you are. You started a game and now you’re afraid of finishing it.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Why is that.”
“I am not afraid of anything.” His tone was dead. “This place has taught me to know no fear.”
Nyx opened her mouth to argue with him, but she didn’t follow through on the knee-jerk impulse as all of the life drained out of him. No more light behind those beautiful blue eyes. No more arousal in his magnificent body. No more connection to anything around him, even her.
“What did they do to you,” she said through a tight throat.
He looked away, and she studied his handsome face in the candlelight. When she wasn’t busy being irritated with him, his male beauty captivated her. He had perfect bone structure, and sensuous lips that she now knew all too well, and that torso of his, so strong and wide at the shoulders, so narrow at the hips, was the kind of thing males up above went to the gym to try to get.
“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “After the damage is done, the cause of it is no longer relevant. All you have is what has been broken.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Your commiseration is unnecessary and unwelcome—”
