by Aaron Hodges
“How could you do it?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. Their faces were only inches apart now. Slowly her anger slipped away, leaving only the empty abyss where her love for him had once been. “How?”
Liz shuddered, biting back tears. Her whole body was trembling, her wings shivering as they fluttered. Something caught in her throat, and unable to look at him a moment longer, she turned away.
Behind her, Chris wisely remained silent.
“I thought you were dead,” she mumbled to the wall, hardly knowing what she was saying now. “You said you’d rather die than be caught. You made me leave. It broke my heart, but I did it.” She spun back, her anger returning. “You coward! Why couldn’t you just have died like you said? Like you promised!”
She stood over him, fists clenched, teeth bared. Chris lay still in his bed, eyes wide. Words had apparently abandoned him.
“Your nana would be ashamed of you,” Liz spat. “She would have despised you. She died for you. Mira died for you. And Richard. And Jasmine. They all died, but you’re still here, and for what? So you could kill their friend? So you could screw that vile woman?” The words tumbled from her mouth, an unstoppable stream of pent-up emotion. “They all threw away their lives, thinking they knew who you were, that you were good, believing you would make a difference. All those students, all those widows, they’re dead, and in their place, all we get is you!” Liz was screaming now, her words rattling the windows.
Raging, she gripped the chair beside Chris’s bed in both hands. It was a heavy thing, all wood and cushion, but she hurled it across the room as though it weighed nothing. It smashed into the stone wall and shattered into a thousand pieces. Chest heaving, Liz turned on Chris.
Red stained her vision and a desperate yearning rose within her, a desire to throttle the life from him. She felt as though that was the only way to end her pain, to quench her rage. Only with his death would she find peace, could she escape the sight of him.
A growl rumbled from Liz’s chest as she towered over Chris. She half-expected him to try to flee, but he didn’t move. Reaching down, she took his throat in her hands. Her gloves had somehow been lost during her outburst, and she shivered at the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. Through pain and bloody-minded determination, he had developed an immunity to her touch weeks ago, but that wouldn’t save him now. Slowly Liz began to squeeze.
Chris didn’t try to fight back, although with his arms cuffed to the bed and the machines pumping him full of morphine, there wasn’t anything he could have done to stop her. His eyes stared up at her, sad and unblinking, almost begging her to do what he could not. A single tear crept its way down his cheek.
As she took a deep, shuddering breath, the red faded from Liz’s vision. Shivering, she released him and stepped back, though their eyes never left one another. A long silence stretched out until finally, Liz could take it no longer.
“Why, Chris?”
Chris shook his head. “You should have let me die, Liz,” he croaked. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be here. It should have been me that died with the Director.”
To that, Liz had no answer.
Spinning on her heel, she fled the room.
35
In the darkness, all Susan knew was pain. It was her entire world now, her whole being. She could feel herself tearing up, her insides ripping apart. Her mind rebelled, wanting to flee, to depart her mortal shell and escape the red-hot coils of her agony.
Instead, she gritted her teeth and clung on.
“Breathe, Susan,” Talisa’s voice whispered in the darkness, drawing her back.
Susan looked around, but the candles had burnt out long ago and none of the Chead had bothered to get more. She sucked in a breath, savoring the sweet scent of her brethren, and sighed as the pain receded for a second. A hand gripped her by the shoulder. She shifted on the stones to look for its owner.
“You are almost there…my mate,” Hecate’s stilted words whispered in her ear.
Susan nodded, though in the pitch-black, she knew he could not see her.
“Light, please!” she gasped. Talisa would not be pleased—the Chead did not need sight—but in that instant, Susan hardly cared.
A hand stroked her hair. Somewhere in the darkness she heard the faint whisper of a candle being lit. A flame appeared, its glow casting back the pitch-black. Talisa and Hecate sat on either side of her, their scent enveloping her, while a third Chead held the candle near her feet.
She sensed the pressure building again. Clenching her teeth, Susan struggled to control her breathing. A wave of pain swept out from her abdomen. Her legs spasmed. A sharp cramp had begun in the small of her back hours ago, and it flared again now. Arching against the cold ground, she cried out as the contraction ripped through her.
Suddenly she found herself in another place, another body, another time.
Susan laughed as she wandered through the museum, her mom just two steps behind. The crowds pressed in around her, but she didn’t mind. This was her special day, her time in the sun, and she was going to make the most of it.
After all, it wasn’t every day you turned ten.
The day passed in a blur, as she led her mom through the countless exhibits detailing the history of the Western Allied States. How they had departed from the United States and set off to forge their own path. How the United States had attempted to undermine them. How for a decade, war had raged across the North American continent.
And how the detonation of a nuclear warhead in Washington, DC had finally brought the devastating conflict to a close.
At the end, Susan and her mother found themselves in the museum’s feature exhibit—an expose on the WAS’s nuclear independence. Newspaper articles had been blown up and plastered over one wall, featuring articles declaring “VICTORY” alongside images of a mushroom cloud rising from the wreckage of DC.
Walking through the exhibit, Susan wondered at the life-sized rockets littering the room. For a ten-year-old, the sleek steel contraptions seemed the epitome of man’s accomplishments. How these strange devices could be sent hurtling thousands of miles through the sky was beyond her comprehension. Television screens around the room showed videos of glowing reactors and rockets soaring across vast oceans. In that moment, it seemed to Susan that her nation must be capable of anything.
Slowly the vision faded, the edges turning to black. Feeling the pull of pain, Susan clung to the memory, desperate to remain. From a distance, she watched her ten-year-old self studiously reading her way through the exhibit, learning of the process of nuclear fission, the development of the triad, the map of the Western Allied States and their known nuclear bases.
As the last traces of the memory vanished, Susan glimpsed the words inscribed beside “Albuquerque."
Kirtland Air Force Base.
Susan screamed as the pain came rushing back. Thrashing, she caught Hecate by the shoulder and hauled him towards her. He yelped as her nails dug into his flesh, but for once he lacked the strength to tear himself free. Panting, Susan shrieked again, her cries echoing through the cavern.
“Almost there, Susan.” Talisa’s voice was disgustingly calm. Susan wanted to hurl a rock at the elder Chead.
“Breathe, my mate,” Hecate whispered.
With an effort of will, Susan lay back against the stones. Her chest constricted, reducing each inhalation to a desperate gasp. She clung to Hecate until she felt blood beneath her fingers, but now her mate did not pull away. Warmth flooded Susan as their eyes met, and she screamed one last time.
A sudden rushing sensation came from between her legs. The pressure wrapping around her abdomen lessened, and Susan collapsed back against the stones, crying and panting, coughing as her chest relaxed. Finally, she managed to take a proper breath.
For a second, there was silence in the cavern. Then a piercing cry split the darkness, and the Chead at her feet lifted something from the stones. Susan’s heart fluttered as she saw her baby in the Chead’s arms.
She scrambled to sit up, though fire still burned in her stomach. Reaching out her arms, she cried wordlessly for her child.
But the Chead only turned away. Before she could stop him, he disappeared into a side cavern, stealing her child from view. A strangled cry built in Susan’s throat as the warmth turned to rage. It cast aside the agony and fed strength to her limbs. Arms trembling, she started to stand.
An iron hand gripped her shoulder and forced her back down. Snarling, Susan lashed out at Talisa, but the elder Chead caught her fist and shoved her back.
“Down, child,” she commanded.
With a pitiful moan, Susan slumped against the stones. Tears sprang to her eyes as her baby’s cry echoed through the caves. She twisted around, trying hopelessly to find him.
“Enough!”
Talisa’s weathered hand slapped Susan hard across the face. She started to cry. The pain was returning now, the pressure building once more.
“Please,” she moaned.
“No,” Talisa growled, murky white eyes flashing in the light of the candle. “Your child will wait. The others cannot.”
Susan looked up at the elder Chead, uncomprehending. Seconds ticked past before it struck her. Agony had driven the knowledge from her mind, but now it came rushing back. The Chead did not have single child births. Like rabbits and cats, they had litters, multiple births. Except unlike their furry relatives, birthing was not easy.
It was agony.
Sobbing, Susan collapsed back against the cold stones.
36
Sam sighed as he fell back on the double bed. Placing his arms behind his head, he grinned up at Ashley.
“A little early for bed, isn’t it?” she asked, eyebrow raised. “It’s three in the afternoon.”
“Perfect time for a siesta.” Sam laughed, patting the empty space beside him. Even now, he couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop looking at her.
Ashley had been skin and bone when she’d escaped, her hair matted and eyes lined by shadows. She had slept for two days straight—and upon waking had wolfed down enough food to feed a lion. Even now, she became like a fox in a henhouse at the merest mention of food. But the extra sustenance had done its work, returning muscle to her lithe frame, the subtle curves to her hips.
Taking a step towards the bed, a playful smile tugged at Ashley’s lips. To show his appreciation for his rescue, Harry had given them a room to themselves, and they were both still savoring the novelty of privacy. For months they’d lived in prison cells and cages or camped in tiny hideouts. To suddenly have a master bedroom and ensuite bathroom all to themselves was something of a shock.
Of course, they had taken full advantage.
Still on her feet, Ashley brushed the scarlet hair from her face and fluttered her eyelashes. “You want me to join you?”
Impatient, Sam sat up and grabbed her around the waist. Ashley yelped as he threw her down on the bed, but she was too quick to be pinned. Twisting to the side, she laughed as he landed beside her. Then she wriggled closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. Leaning in, she planted a kiss on his lips.
Sam kissed her back, tasting the sweetness of her tongue, the closeness of her body, but Ashley pulled away again before things could progress. He eyed her closely, seeing her mind wasn’t completely with him. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, to which she scowled and dislodged it again.
“Don’t do that.” She tapped him on the nose like he was a bad puppy.
“Where are you?” he asked softly, stroking her cheek.
Ashley sighed. “What do you think…they’re going to do?”
Sam exhaled. He didn’t need to ask who Ashley meant by “they.”
“I don’t know,” he offered. “What Chris did…”
“I tried to make her understand,” Ashley replied, absently stroking his chest. “What it was like for us…”
“I think she knows…” Sam said with a shudder. He wished he could forget his time locked alone in Halt’s cell, powerless to resist the beatings by the guards. And Ashley’s terror as Halt had snapped her fingers, one by one. “But I’m not sure it matters.”
“We’ve all done terrible, awful things though,” Ashley murmured, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. Her chest rose as she sucked in a breath, drawing Sam’s eyes to the soft curves of her breasts.
“In the heat of the moment, when it was them or us,” he muttered.
Closing her eyes, Ashley nodded, and Sam knew she was seeing Chris on the screen, ending Mike’s life. He watched her face, wondering again how she had found the strength to resist, to defy the Director while Chris—always so strong, so determined—had crumbled.
But then, Ashley herself was stronger than most. Even when she’d been struggling to overcome her own demons, Ashley had placed the wellbeing of her friends above her own life. When they’d needed her at the university, she hadn’t hesitated to help, despite her terror.
“Chris…he lost himself in there,” Ashley was saying. “It wasn’t the torture that broke him, or the sleepless nights, or the cold or starvation or pain. It was the absence of hope.” Her voice cracked as she turned her head towards him. “All those kids, Sam, all those students. They stood up for us. And there was nothing we could do to save them. Chris couldn’t take that, couldn’t take knowing he’d given up his freedom to protect them, and they’d died anyway.”
Sam nodded. Even after learning the government had been behind the Chead epidemic, the scenes of the university massacre had shocked him. Chris and Ashley had sacrificed their freedom to try to stop it—he could understand how that might have broken his friend.
He could, but could Liz? Could Harry and his council?
Shivering, he stroked Ashley’s hair again. Her eyelids slid closed at his touch. Leaning in, she nuzzled his neck. Tingles of fire ignited where her lips met his skin, and the heat of desire clutched him. Opening his arms, he drew Ashley into his embrace.
She came willingly, her arms slipping beneath his shirt, touching lightly, taunting. He groaned as their lips locked together. Her tongue darted out, the taste of her filling him, fueling his desire. The heat in his chest spread, becoming a desperate yearning, an insatiable need.
Her fingers were tugging at his shirt now, and he lifted his arms eagerly, allowing her to draw the thin material up over his broad shoulders. Then her hands returned to his naked chest, hungry, eager, even as he still struggled to pull the shirt over his head. As always, the slits at the back caught on his wings, and in a sudden fit of impatience he yanked at it. Fabric tore, and he hurled the ruined shirt across the room.
Watching him, Ashley lay back on the bed, her white tank top hugging her body. A teasing smile crossed her lips as she spread her wings. With them extended, there was no way to remove her top intact. But the glimmer in her eyes told him what she wanted.
Growling, he leaned over her, tongue tasting, teeth nibbling at the soft flesh of her neck, her shoulders. His fingers danced across her stomach, floating over the mounds of her breasts, coming to the thin strap at her shoulders. He took it between his fingers and tore it before moving on to the other side. Ashley gasped mockingly as the second ripped. Grinning, he gripped the fabric where it curved down to cover her breasts, and tore it clean in two.
Sitting back, he took a moment to admire his work. Ashley still lay on the bed, wings still spread, her ruined top exposing the glorious curves of her body. Sam held himself on all fours, their naked chests just inches from touching. Face to face, they stared into one another’s eyes, their breath mingling.
In a rush Sam kissed her, feeling Ashley’s lips melt beneath his, her body rising up to meet him. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest, igniting a primal moan deep in his throat. Her fingers were in his hair, pulling him down, holding him tight, desperate to ensure he wouldn’t escape. But he wasn’t going anywhere. Her scent was in his nostrils, her taste in his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to stay in this place with her forever, and let the worl
d outside do what it would.
She fumbled at his pants, and then they were gone. Hers quickly followed. Sam gasped as her hands gripped him by the waist. Grinning, she pushed him, and suddenly he was tumbling sideways. She laughed as she straddled him, her sleek breasts glittering in the fluorescent lights. Her amber eyes were aglow, shining with that light he’d seen in the corridors beneath Alcatraz. Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear.
“Take me, Sam.” Her breath was hot against his flesh.
He had no choice but to obey, his hips rising to meet hers. A gasp tore from his lips as he found her. Ashley’s lips parted, her breath quickening as she pressed her lips to his neck. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Sam moved slowly, feeling her respond, her hot gasps on his flesh.
Ashley’s hands slid through his hair, her moans in his ear. He could feel her all around him, moving faster, every thrust of her hips encouraging him to greater heights. His own hands moved with a will of their own, trailing through her wings, down the small of her back, gripping her ass, her hair, her feathers.
A ferocity built within him, a burning desire for more, a feral need to take control. Moving one arm behind her waist, he lifted her and spun. Ashley gasped, her eyes widening as she found herself beneath him once more. Her eyes narrowed, but he kissed her hard and felt her relent. Sliding his hand behind her neck, his other beneath her waist, he pressed close against her.
Tearing her lips from his, Ashley groaned, her nails digging into the flesh of Sam’s back. He kissed her neck, breathing in the sweetness of her, and increased the pace again. All thought, all reason left them as they moved against each other, joined as one, ignorant to the troubles that had driven them to the room.
When they finally collapsed back to the sheets, Sam was gasping. Ashley was still trembling as he drew her tight against him, her head resting against his chest. Suddenly heavy, his eyelids slid closed. Embracing the warmth of his mate, he heard the call of sleep, and welcomed it before the chaos without could intrude.
