Immortally Ever After (8 page)

Read Immortally Ever After Online

Authors: Angie Fox

Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy

BOOK: Immortally Ever After
8.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Each was big enough for one patient, and me when I crouched over.

This was so dumb, but I did it anyway. “Knock, knock,” I said, easing inside 3Q before I lost my nerve.

Galen’s eyes flew open and he was up in an instant, sword in hand.

“Whoa, hey!” He was keeping a short sword under his pillow? That blade was at least two feet long. I held up my hands. “It’s me.”

At least he was wearing boxers. That and nothing else. The walls of the tiny tent closed in around us.

He’d been lying on his side, curled slightly. I used to snuggle back into him when he did that.

“Just the woman I wanted to see,” he said, his voice thick with sleep … or perhaps something else. That’s when I noticed he had two swords pointed at me … in a manner of speaking, at least.

“Are you going to put that thing away?”

He quirked a brow. “Which one?”

The man had absolutely no shame. “Both.”

Merde. I’d tried to tell myself that I was checking on him, making sure he was safe and well hidden.

But the truth was, I’d wanted to see him. I was starting to need him. And if I wasn’t careful, that desire would flay me alive.

The muscles in his shoulders bunched as he eased the steel blade back into its hiding spot.

This was such a bad idea. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was strung out and tired and I needed … “Sorry,” I said, scrubbing my hand over my face. “I shouldn’t have come. It’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to his rumpled bed. When I hesitated, he gave me a resigned look. “I’m not going to try anything. I know you’re with—” He gestured, unable to even say the name.

“Marc,” I said quickly, feeling my ears redden at the tips. God, I was such an idiot. “I think I just needed to know you were here.”

Which was crazy because he wouldn’t always be there. He couldn’t.

A pained expression crossed his face. “I missed you too.”

“Galen—” I stood there, unsure what to say next.

“Don’t worry. I’ll back off.” He shook his head, saying almost to himself, “Every time I see a damned carton of blueberries, I think of you.”

I hadn’t eaten one since. And they were my favorite.

But I didn’t dare tell him that.

He sighed, running his hands through his short, clipped hair. “I didn’t set out to barge into your life and cause problems. I thought I could fly under the radar on this one.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I was wrong.”

“No.” I planted my back against the tent pole, trying to find the words. This was a man who did what was right. He followed his conscience, even if it got us into trouble. He could regret the situation, but as far as who he was…? “I’m glad you could come to me.”

He wasn’t my lover anymore. I’d never hold him again at night or tease him in the morning. But I could be with him in this. For whatever time we had left.

He watched me, his face carefully set. Hard.

“How will you get back?” I asked, more than ready to turn my mind to something else.

“I’m special ops,” he said. “I’m good at sneaking around.”

Yes, well, I hoped he wasn’t planning any heroics, not when he couldn’t shrug a shoulder without pain. Like it or not, he was human now.

“We’ll be out of your hair once Leta is stable enough to travel,” he said, as if he hadn’t nearly died on my table. “Until then, we need to lie low.”

Maybe I wasn’t so good at all of this black ops thinking, but, “Why can’t our side know anything? Are you hiding from them too?”

“For the time being, yes,” he said matter-of-factly.

Holy smokes. It wasn’t as if I were overly loyal to the new army, but still, the man had no fear.

I didn’t know whether to throttle him or give him a high five. “What are you, the Lone Ranger?”

He shook his head slowly. “I’m just trying to make a difference,” he said, as if that were it.

“What happened?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

“She was my mission,” he said simply. “I acquired her near one of the old army outposts.”

He sat on the cot, and this time I joined him.

He rested his forearms on his knees. “She’s a special breed that the old army is trying to weaponize.”

“Lovely.”

“Yes. Let’s just say our side is very interested in the program they’re developing. I was sent in to extricate, or exterminate if necessary.”

“Galen—”

“I wasn’t going to do that,” he said quickly. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Still, getting out of there was rough. Leta was weaker than our reports suggested. And she fought me. They’d clipped the membranes on her wings back to the bone so she couldn’t fly. She couldn’t even shift back into a human. By the time I’d gotten her to the edge of the containment area, we’d been spotted.”

“I’m glad she went with you.” It must have taken a lot of trust. Galen was good at that, at getting people to believe in him.

“She didn’t have much of a choice,” he said tightly. “You saw what the old army does to their dragons.”

I’d witnessed them harnessing the dragons back in one of their camps. And I’d seen them use the dragons as weapons on PNN. I could hardly get that image out of my head.

“They keep them like animals.” I’d seen it. And I’d been horrified at the complete and utter lack of humanity. I just hadn’t realized how widespread it was.

The lantern light played over his sculpted cheekbones, the firm line of his jaw. He was harder than I remembered, more raw. “If a dragon isn’t useful in human form, the old army fits them with a collar that forces a shift. They’re used exclusively as animals—for communications, scouting”—his lip curled—“and weapons.”

My stomach turned at the thought.

Galen traced a hand over his arm, his blunt fingers trailing over deeply tanned skin. “Leta is one of the rare shifters who has the gift of telepathy.”

I sat back, stunned for a second. “I’m surprised they didn’t kill her outright.”

Telepathy would be a priceless commodity around here, where all communications were controlled by the gods.

His eyes caught mine and held. “That’s what I wondered.”

“Telepathic humans are hunted down.” Like me. Not that I’d ever met one, but I heard the stories.

His mouth tightened. “When I informed my commander I was going in to get her, he ordered restraints.”

Okay. “Well, she could have been dangerous.”

“A collar,” he added.

Oh, hell.

Yes, the old army was brutal in general, but I’d seen for myself what our side was capable of—murder, torture, eternal damnation.

I scooted closer. “Well, you can’t just keep her here.”

“I don’t trust our side to do the right thing.”

I didn’t either. I touched his leg. It was stupid on about ten different levels, but I needed that contact, that connection. His muscle tightened under my fingers, but he didn’t move away. “What are you going to do?” I asked.

His expression was steely. “I don’t know.”

Hades, this was such a mess.

He coiled under my touch like a cobra ready to strike. “She’s been hiding her power,” he said, “to the point where she’s not even sure it’s there anymore. But if she can find it again, nurture it, she’ll be able to communicate with any and all dragons, and likely most anyone she wants. She could be a powerful asset to the new army. If we don’t use her for experiments or dissection.”

I didn’t save her life to have somebody cut her apart. “Does she suspect?”

“If she’s smart, she does.”

I slid my fingers up his thigh, held it. “But she could use her power for good.”

This time, he moved away. “With the right people behind her, yes. I’m trying to figure out what we’re facing so we know where to go when we get out of here.

“She doesn’t trust me, not all the way at least. She seems to have a special bond with Marc.”

It had pained him to say it. He shook it off, refocused. “I think we’re part of a bigger plan.”

“Naturally.” I didn’t like where this was going.

He gazed at me like he could see into my soul. “The new prophecy proves it.”

“Wait.” I broke away from him, at once missing the intimacy we’d always shared. “That’s going a little far.” I mean, really. “You can’t expect me to be turning up a dagger, while hiding a dragon, and you.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “I’m used to lying low.”

“No.” I wasn’t strong enough for this. Yes, I admired Galen’s faith, but I wasn’t sure it meant I had to risk everything for him and his kidnapped asset. And for what? I had no idea how to make this work out right.

Only faith.

He gave me a knowing look. “I can see the wheels turning.”

I snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this.”

“I missed you,” he said quietly.

It was too much—his nearness and his touch and, well, him. “I’m not yours.”

Not Marc’s. Not anybody’s.

“I know,” he said simply. But he didn’t let up. “We can brave this, Petra. I’ll still do whatever it takes to help you find peace.”

Jesus Christ on a pogo stick.

“Yes, well, what if we get caught this time? What if they discover you and Leta and they figure me out too? We could wait a hundred years for a prophecy to come true. What if the bronze dagger never shows up? Worse, what if it does? I have no control and no guarantees and I never signed up for this.”

“Anything else?” he asked.

I sighed. “Can you be with me on this? Maybe try and freak out too?”

“No.”

At least he was honest.

I ducked back out of his tent, more frustrated than when I’d gone in. But at least I wasn’t alone anymore.

 

chapter seven

 

Marc wasn’t home when I made it back to my tent, which was good. I didn’t want him to have to watch me move out.

Or worse, help.

At least I was doing something to take charge of my life. Something that didn’t involve dragons or prophecies—or Galen.

Luckily, my friend Rodger wasn’t busy. Or if he was, I didn’t notice. I’d found him halfway to the mess tent and informed him I was moving back in with him, and that I needed him to help me grab my things.

After all, what is it they say about good friends? A good friend will help you move, a true friend will help you move the bodies. I thought back on what Galen had told me and hoped I wouldn’t be testing Rodger any more than necessary.

My breath hitched when I spied one of my books on Marc’s desk. It would be the last time our things were together like that.

Rodger stood behind me while I lit the lantern. “Why is this place always so dark?”

“Not the time, Rodger,” I said, sliding my footlocker out from under my cot.

“I’m just saying.” He shrugged, picking up the footlocker as if it weighed nothing. “It’s like a crypt in here.”

I opened my duffel bag and tossed in a few loose books and some shoes. I crammed my shower kit in and stuffed my pillow under my arm.

It was for the best. Marc and I couldn’t keep going on like we had.

“At least you’ll get to see more of Galen,” Rodger said, taking my duffel and hooking it over his shoulder.

“No,” I said, grabbing my snack box. Hell, aside from my bookcase, I was already packed. Or—a niggling thought stuck in the corner of my mind—maybe I’d never really unpacked.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Galen,” I said, as we made our way outside. It truly didn’t. What I had with Marc was broken. We both wanted to fix it, but that didn’t mean we knew how.

Outside, the heat of the desert stung me. I sighed and glanced out over the endless wasteland. Hell, if I had to guess, I’d say Marc had proposed in order to fix it. If we’d been able, we might have even had children in order to try and make things right.

We’d keep going down that path because we were too afraid to get off it.

Rodger and I trudged side by side. What had happened was awful. But at least it had forced me to take a hard turn.

Right off the edge of a cliff.

No, I refused to think that way. I had my werewolf buddy and the rest of my friends. I had a job I was good at.

I didn’t need a man or a relationship to make me feel complete. That in itself was freeing.

I’d learned a lot, grown more than I ever imagined.

We drew curious looks as we made the trek to my old tent. “I feel like I’m moving back in with my parents.”

Rodger grinned at that. “At least I didn’t turn your former spot into an exercise room.”

No, he hadn’t. When we made it back to my old place, I saw he’d removed my cot completely and had installed cement-block shelves.

I glanced at him. “Not that I’m picky about where I sleep, but…”

“Bah, I can change it back. Take a load off,” he said, dumping my footlocker and duffel just inside the hutch door.

He didn’t have to ask me twice. I stretched out on Rodger’s cot while he banged around. How was it that his pillow was better than mine? I raised my head a little. “What about you?”

We’d be back on in five hours, maybe less with all the cases we had in Recovery.

“Super werewolf strength.”

Now he was just being nice.

“It won’t take long to get your side back together,” he said, grunting as he hefted. “Want me to make it dark in here?”

“God, no.” Let there be light.

And shedded fur balls in the corners.

I closed my eyes, smelling the tar swamp, listening to the familiar bubbling out back. It hurt to know that things were never going to be the way they had been with Marc. But at the same time, it felt good to be home.

*   *   *

Five hours later, we were back in Recovery. The place was packed. Burns were excruciating, physically draining, and ugly in so many ways. Beds full of bodies lined both sides of the long, rectangular room.

We’d squeezed temporary cots in between, and the hall in the middle was jammed with doctors, nurses, orderlies, and even the entire bar crew from the officers’ club, who had shut down in order to stock supplies and offer nonmedical help.

As soon as Rodger and I walked in the door, there were nurses handing us charts on the most critical cases. Marius arrived as soon as dark fell. And it was well after that before I could even inquire about the corporal I’d found yesterday in the yard. I hadn’t seen him among the men, but at this point I wasn’t even sure if I’d recognize him if I’d tripped over him.

Other books

A Flying Affair by Carla Stewart
Rules for a Proper Governess by Jennifer Ashley
This Side of Heaven by Karen Robards
Von Gobstopper's Arcade by Adornetto, Alexandra
Three's a Crowd by Sophie McKenzie
Shooting Elvis by Stuart Pawson
Dream a Little Dream by Piers Anthony
Hunt the Dragon by Don Mann
The Painted Tent by Victor Canning