Mine, page 24
“Why can’t I seem to leave you,” he said roughly.
Her eyes flared like he’d surprised her. Then she whispered, “You don’t have to. Leave me, that is.”
THIRTY
AS DANIEL SPOKE up, Lydia felt a strange shimmer come over her, and because she didn’t know what else to do, she picked up a random bear from the collection and cradled the thing to her chest. The plushie had soft black fur and a red Santa suit on, and as she dropped her face forward, she knocked his white-trimmed hat off.
“I think you should take over from Eastwind,” Candy said.
“What does that even mean,” Lydia mumbled.
Even though she knew: The man’s voice came to her mind, sure as if he were beside her and whispering in her ear: Nothing happens on my mountain without me knowing about it.
“You’re going to need a job after—” Candy steepled her red-and-green nail tips. “Well, everyone needs a job, don’t they.”
Lydia looked at Daniel.
He was staring at her with a somber expression, and when he started to cough, he was quick to shut the throat spasm down, covering his mouth with his hand, as if he didn’t want to remind her of what she couldn’t forget.
“You were protecting the wolves before,” he said. “So just keep doing that—and maybe add a couple of acres. You love it up there anyway. That’s your joy.”
You’re my joy, she thought.
Still, deep inside of her, her wolven self prowled against the cage of her will, wanting out right now, so it could go home up on the elevation, smelling the pine and feeling the earth underfoot.
The mountain had always been her solace. But if she went there, just because Daniel died and she needed a place to bury her grief? She’d end up hating the place.
“No,” she said as she forcefully got to her feet. “And I’m sorry we bothered you. We have to go now.”
Candy’s blue eyelids narrowed. “You can’t run from what’s going to happen to him—”
“Are you really talking about Daniel like he isn’t even here?”
“—and you shouldn’t try to. It just wastes what time you have.”
As Candy fell silent, it was on the tip of Lydia’s tongue to deny everything. To say she wasn’t running. To point out that it wasn’t possible when she was sleeping next to Daniel every night and worrying about him every day—no matter what else was going on.
Except she wasn’t fooling anybody. Not even herself.
And as she thought of that symphath in the red robes, and how the light of dawn had found him and flashed, brilliant as a nuclear bomb, she felt her soul crack.
“I can’t think of what comes next,” she said roughly. “I have no future. Only the present.”
Becoming aware that she had a crushing hold on the bear, she put the toy carefully back in its place and brushed off her perfectly clean pants.
“I’m sorry we bothered you.” Hadn’t she already said that? “I mean—”
“You didn’t.” Candy got to her feet, too. “I still got to have the last piece of pie, and I wanted a coffee anyway. So, where you guys headed next? Grocery shopping? Or does that Phalen woman have half a Price Chopper airdropped into her front yard once a month—does she actually feed all those guards of hers? Not that I don’t get why someone would want them around. If I were a younger woman, I’d have admired the view, if you know what I mean.”
Candy was talking her way to the door, like nothing of any significance had been discussed, and as Daniel started following her, Lydia looked back at the Christmas tree. It was an artificial one, and collections of ornaments were grouped together on the branches: Disney princesses in holiday-themed dresses in one quadrant, traditional bulbs in another… and there was a whole section on cats. The lights were blinkers. Some white, some colored.
Six weeks until December 25th.
She couldn’t fathom thinking that far ahead.
As a cold swirl circled her legs, she jumped and stumbled back—but it wasn’t some evil portent or metaphysical intruder. It was just the door getting opened and the weather coming in like a dog sniffing around.
And hey, at least it got her out of the way of the train that Candy had set up with such great care.
Lydia floated out into the weak noontime sun, feeling like it was the middle of the night. At the end of the driveway, there was a second black Suburban, sitting like a Doberman that needed to be fed. The guards had followed them at a not-at-all-discreet distance, and overhead, drones buzzed on the periphery. As she regarded the protection, she had the sense that the tenacity of the men in those uniforms wasn’t so much that they were running interference on any potential threats, but rather they were monitoring to make sure there were no security breaches.
“You guys take care of yourselves,” Candy said from the front door.
“You, too,” Daniel responded—even though he wasn’t looking at the woman, but rather focused out on the rural road.
Lifting a hand, Lydia murmured, “I’ll see you soon, ’kay?”
“Yeah, sure,” Candy said. “Anytime. You know where to find me.”
It was hard to turn around, and walk to the SUV. She felt like she was never going to see the receptionist again, although whether that was paranoia or prediction, she wasn’t sure. Neither was a great way to feel.
Back at their Suburban, she got behind the wheel, and when the doors were shut, she glanced across the console.
“I have no idea what to think. About anything.”
Daniel’s face was grave. “Do you want me to drive?”
No, I want you to be well, and for me to be back at the WSP, worrying about nothing more than wolf migration and breeding seasons.
“No, I can get us home. Back to Phalen’s, I mean.” She pushed the start button for the engine. “And then… who the hell knows.”
THIRTY-ONE
WAITING WAS ITS own special kind of torture, Daniel decided as he paced around Phalen’s sleek, anonymous mansion.
Following an afternoon of toe-tapping and twitching, and a dinner that had been made with care but tasted like something that had come out of a truck stop vending machine, he’d started making rounds of the house. The route he established took him from the kitchen and private eating room, down by the library that was all closed up, past Phalen’s study, and into the bedroom, where Lydia was sleeping.
And back. And again. And again.
He told himself that at least he was getting a little exercise.
He told himself that the improvement in his stamina was a good sign.
He also ignored the shortness of breath, the way his right leg dragged, and how his stomach couldn’t decide whether it was hungry or nauseous.
His mindless gerbil activity had persisted even after Lydia had gone off for a snooze, and the kitchen had been shut down for the night. After Phalen’s obnoxious chef and his skeleton crew had left, it was just the guards and him. He had no idea where Gus and their hostess were. They hadn’t shown up to eat.
He hoped like hell the good doctor had stayed on the premises. There were three exits the guards let people in and out of: the front one of the mansion, the one that went out to the parking area for the lab, and the subterranean tunnel that headed out to the garage. Everything else was barricaded. So if he’d left, someone had to have let him go.
And driven him away.
Not an Uber, either.
Gus wasn’t the only one with departure on his mind. After dinner, Lydia had talked about going out to run the mountain. Daniel had sensed her restlessness as if it were his own, and he knew that she needed to let her wolf free. More than that, maybe she was safer there on the elevation. She was certainly faster on her feet—paws—than those robotic soldiers.
Not that she could out-bolt a bullet.
In the end, though, she had decided to stay put, probably because she was worried about him. And he decided it was okay because at least he knew where she was, currently lying down on their bed.
She was exhausted, and he hated that.
Maybe he’d been wrong to say what he had about Eastwind and the mountain… and her.
As he arrived at the foyer he looked at the sculptures set with a museum curator’s eye on the black-and-white-tiled floor.
“So much money wasted,” he muttered as he went over to one of the blobs.
Putting his palm on the abstract form’s bulges, he smacked it like a horse’s rump—because God knew the thing was big as a Clydesdale. The smooth marble was cold, and he supposed he had to give the artist credit. Lot of work to get rough stone to look like it was melted cheese.
On that note, he kept going across the checkerboard floor, and as he came up to the next major piece in the open space, he pulled another ass-smacker. This time, the sinuous form was painted with some kind of sealer that was so thick, there was no way of judging what the underlying structure was made of, and so shiny, he could see his own reflection.
“Helluva mirror,” he murmured as he cleared his throat and ran a hand over the new growth on his head.
Continuing on, and ignoring a sudden exhaustion, he nodded to the guard in the alcove, got no response at all—and thought about Candy the Receptionist’s nutcrackers. All this guy needed was some gold piping on his uniform and a funky hat, and he was a prime candidate to bust some nuts.
In a figurative sense.
Bored of his established route, Daniel went to one of the library’s French doors and popped it open. On the far side, there was nothing but darkness, a shaft of light piercing in and carving a visual slice down onto the—wait for it—black carpet.
’Cuz the shit could only be that or white in this house.
As he entered the long, narrow room, he could smell the old books, even though he could only see the shadows of the shelves that ran up the walls. Considering how antiseptic the rest of the house was, he wondered why C.P. had the collection of first editions, given that they seemed to fly in the face of her shiny-and-new vibe. Then again, they were probably good investments?
Man, he was really getting tired. Maybe he needed to head to bed.
Closing himself in, he kept the lights off because the big plate glass windows that marked the far wall became portals for monitoring the back meadow. As he went to the view, he searched for shadows moving around the winterized pool. Then wondered what exactly he would do if an attack occurred.
Other than call for the guards.
Still, he’d rather figure that one out, even with his limitations, than be here waiting. And thinking of those boot prints that had appeared out of nowhere in the forest.
It was very possible something other than a human was stalking them—
“Daniel?” came a distant call.
“In here,” he said over his shoulder.
Lydia opened the same door he had, and as her body was silhouetted by the light streaming in from the foyer, his instinct was to block the view of her with himself. But before he could get into position, he remembered that all the glass had a reflective coating on it. No one could see her from the outside.
Still… “Come in, but close those doors, would you?”
“Sure, but what are you doing in here?” she asked as she stepped in and did as he’d requested.
“Oh, not much.” With all the light cut out once more, the visibility improved. “Just watching the night sky. There’s a moon tonight.”
“You’re stargazing without me, are you?” Her voice was warm. “Hey, where are you…”
He wished he was merely looking at the heavens. “Just follow the sound of my voice.”
As she closed in, he covered a little cough with his hand and glanced over his shoulder. Outside, there was nothing moving in the back of the property, no shadows zeroing in on the house, no outright attack marshaling on foot or from the air—
“Oh,” she said as she bumped into him. “I’m sorry.”
Putting his arms around her, he shook his head. “Don’t be. I don’t mind at all.”
With the curves of her body registering, he swept his hand up her spine and found the tie in her hair. Pulling it free, the waves swung down and they were a little damp, smelling of her shampoo.
“Mind if I kiss you?” he murmured.
“Mmmm, please.”
She was the one who brought his mouth downward, and as their lips fused, he moved his hips into her own. He had no idea whether lightning was going to strike twice, and he told himself that his getting physically aroused shouldn’t matter. There were many things he could do to her—
The hardening was both natural and normal—and a total fucking miracle. And she felt it, too. Her lower body moved in closer, and the sound she made, of hunger and satisfaction combined, juiced him further.
As they continued to kiss, the darkness was erotic as fuck; it meant he felt her even more—and he backed them both up, orientating himself with his hand extended out and batting at thin air. When he found the table he was looking for, the one that ran down the back of one of the silk sofas, he laughed deeply in his throat.
Thank you, Phalen.
Courtesy of the woman’s relentless minimalism, there was nothing on its surface. Which was fucking perfect. He lifted Lydia by her waist and set her on the lip. Conscious that this was a semi-private situation at best, he didn’t want to waste time, but as he got back with the mouth-to-mouth, he was aware that no one knew what tomorrow was going to bring. So he had to savor this.
Taking his hands down to her breasts, her knitted sweater was a soft cushion over her contours, and he couldn’t help it. He had to taste her. Easing her back a little farther, he pushed the folds up, and she had no bra on—so as he went down with his lips, there were no barriers. Sucking on her nipple, she groaned and linked her hands behind his neck, pulling him closer, closer… closer still.
She was wearing leggings, and they melted off her thighs as he pulled them down—
Outside in the hallway, voices volleyed back and forth, some kind of casual conversation burbling along, and his head whipped up. There was nothing to see—unless someone opened something. And talk about opportunity. The room had, like, three sets of doors that broke up the wall-to-wall shelving. He might as well have chosen to do this in the frickin’ boardroom down in the lab…
“They’re moving on,” Lydia whispered.
“Good.” He palmed her breast and rolled his thumb back and forth over the tip. “I want to finish what we started.”
Lydia gasped and then laughed softly. “I am not shy, but I’m not exactly an exhibitionist, either.”
“Do you want to go back to the bedroom—”
Thump. Thump.
The sound of one and then the other of her shoes hitting the floor was her response, and he smiled into the velvet void.
With hands that were surprisingly steady, he finished the job with her leggings and got right in there with his pelvis, pushing into the space she made for him. Their lips re-fused, and the slide of her tongue against his, coupled with the way she rubbed her core against the front of his jeans, made him go for his zipper.
The last thing he was going to do was come in his pants.
What a damn waste that would be.
On that note, his numb fingers performed their job admirably, and he thought about the way rarity made everything more precious. The fact that he didn’t know whether this was his last time meant that he was going to especially savor every penetration and all the sounds she made and the way she felt beneath him.
But the fact that the rest of the household was on the other side of those frickin’ doors meant he had to hurry the hell up.
Palming his arousal, he went in, and brushed her sex with the head of his cock. Up and down. She was so slick and hot—and he trembled, for all the right reasons, as he entered her. That first stroke in was always a revelation, and the feel of it went straight into his brain. After that, his body took over, his pelvis pulling back and pushing in.
Under him, Lydia was holding on, and then she shifted herself on the tabletop and wrapped her legs around him. Rocking into her, the familiar build was an exquisite anticipation, but there was going to be no release for him yet.
She came first.
Always.
THIRTY-TWO
LYDIA FELT AN orgasm coming for her and she welcomed the sensations. Daniel was deep inside of her, and his penetrations were getting faster and faster. With her legs wrapped around his lower body and her spine arching into him, he was all she knew, all she felt.
And the lights being off blurred the distinction between memory and reality.
Was this the past? Before everything had gone so tragic? Or was it the present where she was trapped by it all?
Because she didn’t know, she was free to choose—so she clung to the illusion that a reset had occurred, that the nightmare had been woken from, that her life was continuing as it had been in the spring, the future assured in the way it was for mortals… with blindness to fate making it seem like there was a long runway to live out day and nights and make plans with the one you loved.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she parted her lips and held on. “I love you…”
Something was squeaking under them, probably her butt, although the table they were on was steady enough—still, if she’d been thinking clearly, she probably would have suggested they move onto the floor. Or, better yet, do this in their bedroom.
Except she wasn’t into the thinking thing now.
Holding on to Daniel’s shoulders, she knew he was getting close. So was she—and then she toppled over the edge of the world first. As the release flooded her senses, she cried out Daniel’s name, and that seemed to be what brought him his own orgasm.
As he started to fill her up, she stilled so she could feel all of it, the pumping, his breathing in her ear, the way her body absorbed what he was giving her.
Heaven, she thought. This is my piece of heaven.
When he was finally spent, they just lay there, exchanging gentle caresses and murmurs that were quiet and loving.
