Abandon The Night (39 page)

Zoë spotted the herd of mustangs from their perch about an hour after the sun had fully peaked, and once assured that their pursuers were looking in the opposite direction, they clambered down from the tree.

It was short work to capture the tame horses, and they were soon galloping off toward Envy. Of course they wouldn’t make it before night fell, and since they were out of ammunition and had few supplies, they didn’t want to be caught by the
gangas
so they’d have to camp out somewhere overnight.

By the time the sun was low to the ground, they were settled on the fourth floor of an old apartment building. Zoë managed to scrape together some greens and wild strawberries, along with walnuts and sunflower seeds that she’d collected on the way. They settled in the dusty, dingy room and watched the red ball of sun disappear beyond the dirty window. Quent had used an old scrap of cloth to wipe a peephole in the glass so they could see.

He looked over at her, his gaze dropping to slide over her body, still dressed in the shimmery white gown. Or what was left of it. Zoë felt the answering tingle in her belly, and tried to subdue it. Their in-the-tree sex hadn’t worked out very well, for a very large spider climbing down Quent’s arm had ruined the mood for both of them.

But she didn’t mind. She had some thinking to do. Despite his joking comment about telling her he loved her, she felt an emptiness in the pit of her stomach. He was holding something back, and she’d noticed he wouldn’t look her directly in the eye since they’d made it out of Mecca.

But now, Quent’s expression softened when he raised his eyes to meet hers again. “I’ll bet you’re ready to get some different clothes on. But when I saw you across the room last night, it was a shock. You looked like a silver goddess.”

Zoë stiffened a little. “All that damned fake shit? Crap on my face, stuff in my hair, being unable to fucking breathe? I’ll never look like that again, so if that’s what turns you on, maybe you’d better—”

He was laughing suddenly, his eyes lighting and really sparkling for the first time since he’d found her in his shower—how long ago was that? Two weeks? “Ah, Zoë,” he said, reaching over to pull her close. “Remember what I told you awhile ago? When you were kicking arse on those
gangas
? How much you turned me on, how badly I wanted to jump you at that time? It just goes to show that no matter how you look, you’ve got me. Completely.”

She couldn’t help an undignified snort. “I looked like every other woman in the room, except they all had bigger boobs.”

“And most of them were fake,” Quent said, smoothing his hands over her bare shoulders. She couldn’t help a little shiver of response from his touch.

“Fake?”

“Their breasts. In my time, women could have them augmented—made bigger.” Then he slipped his hands down and covered hers gently. “But I love yours and I’m glad you don’t have the option of changing them. They’re beautiful and high and tight and I dream of them. And the rest of you. All the time.”

A delicious shiver fluttered in her belly. He hadn’t said he loved
her
, but this was close. Getting closer.

He pulled her close, ignoring the dust that kicked up when she shifted her leg across the gritty floor, stringy with a long-frayed carpet. His lips were warm and tender as they met hers, and she closed her eyes, sliding her fingers up into his hair, sinking into him. But then he pulled away much too quickly and settled back from her.

“It’ll be easier to say what I have to say if I don’t have you in my arms, or on my lips,” he said with a wry smile.

Her belly dropped. Her heart began to pound. “Not again.”

“What?”

“You and your ‘we need to talk, I need to ask you a serious question’ shit again.” She knew her words were caustic, but with her belly churning like that, she couldn’t help it.

But Quent didn’t seem to care. His wry smile turned to a softer one. “That’s my Zoë. Always bloody calling it like it is.”

“Whatever.” She crossed her arms over her belly. Then she crossed her legs. And pulled her knees up close to her. “Well. Spit it out.”

“I really want to make love to you,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “So what else is new? What’s stopping you? Although it is a bit dirty, and I think that’s rat shit over there. Or worse.”

“I…well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the last few times we’ve been together, we haven’t actually done coitus.”

“What the hell?” She frowned and rolled her eyes. Why in the hell did he feel the need to dissect this? “Yes, we have. When I sneaked in on you.”

“Right. Well, that’s because you took me by surprise.”

“Okay, so, yeah, I did notice. I noticed you haven’t wanted to fuck since Marley appeared.” There. She’d said it. Her deepest, biggest fear.

Besides losing him.

But if her fear was right, she was losing him anyway.

“It has nothing to do with Marley,” Quent said sharply. “It’s me. I don’t want to get you pregnant.”

Well, there we have it, all fucking naked and laid out for all to see.

He spoke quickly. “And can we call it making love instead of fucking?” He jammed a hand into his hair, clearly frustrated. “What I mean to say is, there’s nothing that would make me happier than to get you pregnant…if I knew you’d stay with me. If you didn’t run off all the time. Zoë.” His voice dropped and he reached for her hands. “Please put me out of my misery. Either stay with me, or…”

“Or what?” she asked in a challenging voice, but her heart had begun to lift.

“Or…stay with me. I need you.”

She looked down at their hands, remembering all the times she’d held his fingers, stabilizing him while he ventured into the dark pit. And knowing that he did the same for her. She opened her mouth to answer, but he spoke again.

“I’ve never told anyone I loved them. Ever. In my whole life—”

“Not even your mother?” Zoë couldn’t imagine it. She’d told her
naanaa
she loved her every single day. And Papi nearly as often.

“No one. Which is why I’m not very good at it. But…” His fingers tightened around hers and she looked at him. “I love you. I’ve never wanted to say it to anyone. But…I love you. I don’t want to live without you in my life. You make me feel like I can live in this world, like I have a place. A home. But, Zoë, I can’t handle you leaving me all the time.”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “I love you, too, Quent. And I’ll stay with you, if you’ll stay with me. At my hideaway. Sometimes.”

“Any time you want,” he said. “It can be our vacation home.” He laughed and she wasn’t certain why it was a joke, but she smiled back, warmth and pure delight rushing through her to settle comfortably in that empty spot in her belly.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a family. I’d like to have one again. With you,” she said. “But…I don’t think I can give up hunting
gangas
.”

“I thought we made a pretty damn good team,” he told her. “We can do it together.”

At that moment, she realized that her purpose in life hadn’t ended, and that there was a reason she’d lived through that horrible night her family died. It hadn’t been to avenge her family’s death by killing Raul Marck. Her real purpose was to be the lifeline, the partner of this man—this strong, yet vulnerable, damaged and brave man who had a double-edged ability that could save mankind.

There was no one else who could do what he could, and he needed her to strengthen him. To stand by his side.

Her eyes stung with tears and she felt happier than she could ever remember feeling. And because getting soft like this pissed her off, she pushed the emotion away and took control.

“But I get to be in charge on the hunts,” she said. “And you have to teach me how to drive those trucks. And how to make those damn bombs.”

“I promise.” He leaned forward and tugged her into his lap, his hands already moving over her breasts. “So, now can we have real ‘thank God we escaped with our lives’ sex?”

“Damn straight,” she said. “But let’s call it making love.”

And, heedless of the rat shit and skittering rodents, she climbed onto his lap and pulled him close for the kiss of a long promise.