Parallel Fire (3 page)

“You never answered about your energy,” she called out to him softly. He spun to face her, shocked by the vulnerable expression on her face. “I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

Nevin's entire body tensed, grew tighter than a drum. “It's nothing.”

“You should have told me that day in the meeting room. If I'd known that you had the gift of energy, I'd have trusted you with my Madjin mark. I'd have shown you.”

He wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly he had both hands braced about her face, leaning over her. His breathing was intense, his hunger for her so palpable and real, he could feel it coursing throughout his body. Damn it, she was injured, but he couldn't stop himself. He drew his mouth close to hers and whispered, “One's energy, Anna, is quite personal. Remember? You said it.”

His whole body blazed with unleashed heat; his chest rose and fell with heavy pants, but still he stayed hovering just over her. “Intimate, Anna,” he continued, feeling his cock harden at the thought of her having seen his own energy—and of her showing him her mark.

She stared up into his eyes, her gaze flitting over his features, down to his chest, back up to his eyes again. “Yes, that's all true.” He'd never heard her voice so hoarse, so rich and filled with emotion. “But you let me see yours.”

He shook his head, adamant. “Inadvertently.”

She reached a hand to his face, tracing the outline of his jaw. “Show me again, Lieutenant.”

He lifted off of her, ruing his actions. Maybe he was the one who'd hit his head. He gave it a light shake, adjusting his pants as he turned from her, afraid that she'd see the prominent hard-on that she'd just given him. “We need to get back inside the plane for the night.”

“Show me again,” she repeated, and suddenly she was behind him—right behind him—and he froze. Both of his hands were against the wing and both of hers were flat against the middle of his back. “What are you doing, Anna Draekus?” She kept her hands there, right against his body, the only thing separating his skin from hers the thin material of his uniform.

“I'm not sure.” She snorted with laughter. “I hit my head and woooo! Suddenly I go all
sla'skai
on you.” Her hands dropped away; he heard her take several steps back, but still he could only stand, both hands gripping the wing as if it were a lifeline. If only he'd turned; if only he'd been able to transcend his natural shyness and had kissed her like he yearned to do.

But the moment was gone.

 

 

Chapter Two

Nowhere to stretch, nowhere to get comfortable, and sleep just wasn't happening in the rear of Nevin's cockpit.
What a word
, she thought in amusement.
Here I am, alone in the man's
cockpit
, my feet practically in his lap, and we're both trying to sleep.

Nevin on the other hand, seemed to be dozing nicely. She sighed, rubbed at her head, and shifted her right foot until it was propped on his right thigh. He stirred in the seat in front of her, nestling his head against the back of his seat, and slid a warm, gloved palm over her foot. Her entire body lit with fire—deep, mystic fire, the kind only a Refarian warrior like Nevin could possibly set within her.

Wake up
, she thought, wiggling her toes. “Nevin,” she murmured, burning warmth radiating from where his hand covered her foot.

“Hmm?” he asked sleepily, and only then did she realize she'd whispered his name aloud.

“Uh, nothing.”

She felt him tense, his fingers twitched against her instep, and she knew he was going to move away—or move her foot, even worse. She stretched her toes, flexing them, and slid her foot a little closer toward the interior of his thigh. Although she only had a view of the back of his head, she could tell that he stared down into his lap, uncertain—until, at last, he slid his fingers back around her instep, gently massaging the bottom of her foot.

She leaned back in the seat, staring at the twinkling lights above their closed canopy. “Will they be able to track us?” she voiced into the darkness between them.

“Probably. Depends on the state of the craft, any number of factors.” He kept his voice low, hushed, and the sound of it in such an intimate space caused her body to tighten in sharp awareness of him.

He kept rubbing her foot, working his thumb and fingers along her instep. Without meaning to she released a soft moan. “That's…amazing.”

“Give me the other one.” His voice was husky, throaty with need—a need that she had no trouble guessing at because she felt it just like he did. “I'll rub both.”

She swallowed, carefully sliding her left foot onto his other thigh, keenly aware that she practically had her legs wrapped about his waist—well, if only he weren't in the seat in front of her. Still, the suggestive position, the proximity of her feet to his most intimate areas, caused the place between her legs to grow warm and damp.

In the darkness, she heard his breathing quicken as he took hold of her other foot, rubbing it as he'd done the first. She closed her eyes, and slowly—ever so slowly—inched her right foot inward between his thighs. It didn't take long for her to bump into a hard ridge, long and thick against his thigh. When she curled her toes against it, Nevin physically jolted in the seat with a low-pitched groan of pure pleasure.

He said nothing; she didn't utter a thing, but for many silent moments she massaged his erection, then worked her toes between his thighs, back and forth across his balls until he slammed a fist against the side of the canopy, uttering her name over and over. “Gods, help me!” he cried out, turning in the seat.

When their eyes locked for that first moment, she could hardly breathe. She'd never seen so much passion and need in any one man's gaze. “You have to stop, Anna,” he hissed in a tight voice, staring at her over his seat back. “Now. Gods, as it is…” He shook his head, muttering a quiet curse in Refarian.

“I can finish what I started,” she offered with a defiant smile.

Again, he slammed a fist against the canopy, putting his back to her. With a gentle shove, he moved her feet out of his lap. “We need rest—
you
need rest, Anna, to recover from your injuries.”

“You didn't like that?” The question was sincere; she wasn't a virgin, but she didn't have a long list of men in her past either. “Was it not pleasurable?”

Nevin made a tight sound as if he were gritting his teeth. “It was the most pleasure I've felt in such a long time, Anna.”

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms about his neck and pressing her mouth close to his left ear. “Then why stop?”

He touched her arm lightly. “Because I'm your commanding officer—and I have to lead you in this army. Because”—he blew out an edgy breath—“I'm too old for you, and, Anna, because with as much as I crave you, I don't trust myself to be honorable. Not out here, not in the wilds.”

“Who said anything about being honorable?” she countered, releasing a hot breath against his cheek.

He jerked his head sideways. “This isn't going to happen between us, Lieutenant.” He sounded every bit the pompous, tight-assed leader she'd always thought him to be. “I will not allow it to.”

“Fine, sir. Just perfectly fine.” She sank back into her seat, feeling humiliated and confused. “But just one thing: If you didn't want this, then why have you worked so hard to make it happen? All these sorties, everything?”

She studied his profile as he gazed sideways, staring out the canopy. His expression was thoughtful, and far more emotion-filled than she would have imagined—and all of her anger faded away. Nevin Daniels was a man constantly at war with himself; she'd only just begun to figure that out.

He pressed a gloved hand against his temple, giving his head a light shake. “You have always left me muddled and confused, Anna Draekus. If my behavior regarding you is inconsistent, I have only that to blame.”

Always?
Always muddled and confused?
That one simple word would imply that he'd
always
been aware of her, thinking of her, which changed absolutely everything between them. Including the new determination it forced within her, the need to penetrate the reserved lieutenant's superficial coolness—to get to the heart of the lion hidden within—and unleash him.

Chapter Three

Nevin squatted down beside the bubbling stream, propping an arm against his knee as he watched the cold, rushing water. “We have to find a way to store some of this in our pack.”

“We can fill the plastic bag from mine.” It had been almost a full day without any sign or hope of rescue. Anna had worked to shapeshift earlier in the afternoon, but the magnetic energy emitted from all the volcanic activity in the area—as well as from the mitres—had made it impossible for her to do so. Just as, they figured, it made it equally impossible for the base to track their downed craft. Finally, in the mid-afternoon they'd set off on a quest for fresh water, and had just located a good source after only two hours of hiking and searching. They exchanged a grateful look; each knew only too well that they might have come up empty-handed for much longer.

Nevin gave a brisk nod. “Good.” Totally serious, ever the commanding officer—but then his dark face broke into a mischievous smile. “But first I'm getting some now.” He shoved both shirt sleeves up, revealing dark, muscular forearms dusted with black silky hairs. The clinging synthetic material of his uniform shirt tugged across his powerful shoulders, revealing every indentation, every ripple of his defined musculature.

Anna trailed her tongue across her lips, watching as he bent low over the stream, cupping one hand and drawing water up toward his wide, full mouth. His slanted, almond-shaped eyes narrowed in pleasure as he skimmed water to his lips, over and over, until rivulets ran down his chin, gleaming on his dusky growth of beard.

But then something arrested him, and he froze mid-gesture, sliding his gaze upward until he stared at her on the opposite bank where she stood ogling him shamelessly. The corners of his damp mouth quirked upward, and she knew he'd read the desire in her eyes.

“It tastes delicious.” His tone was suggestive; he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand—never taking his black gaze off of her. He'd busted her totally, discovered her gazing at him with absolute lust.

“I'm sure it is.” She bent over, leaning from atop the bank and reached low with her hand for some of the flowing water. It was a long reach and all at once, she slipped, almost falling face-first into the stream. Catching hold of a clump of tall grass, she steadied herself.

“Need some help? I can come across, if need be.”

She heard the wolf in his tone. “I've got it all right.”
Oh I just bet you'd love to help me.
But she had a plan now—a pretty simple and direct one—to make him work harder. To let him take the lead; somehow, that seemed to be the key to getting him to open up to her.

“Well”—he laughed, a deep and rumbling sound—“let me know if I can be of any service. Perhaps hold you from behind while you bend down so you don't fall in face-first.”

“Nope, got it.” She dug her heels into the ground behind her, her face flushing, and with a quickly tossed glare at Nevin, took another few sips.

When she had drunk her fill, the two of them took up positions on opposite sides of the stream bed, eyeing each other. He'd unsnapped his uniform top, damp with sweat and creek water, and it fell open to the middle of his sternum, revealing a tightly sculpted chest that seemed nearly impossible to contain within the stretchy fabric.

She reached for a stone and tossed it into the rushing water, avoiding his steady, piercing gaze. What did he want from her? What did he expect? That she'd jump down from her position, traipse through the water, and throw herself at him brazenly?

He'd always seemed so stern. Totally buttoned up. Too intense and humorless. But the man she'd been discovering here in the woods as they wandered and wandered trying to find their way out alive was virile and dangerous. Barely restricted in his desires, much more like the sensuous man she'd encountered during her interrogation.

His gaze was still fixed on her, totally unwavering and she noticed that the late day sun caught the silver in his hair, making it practically glow against his rich, golden-red skin. The man had the pure look of the ancient Refarians, with his very high cheekbones and slanted eyes, the arching dark brows. All of that, when coupled with the dramatic silver in his hair, gave him the exotic look of a primeval warrior, of a tribal leader who might come roaring out of the mountains.

She thought about the rumors she'd always heard about mature men like Nevin. It was said they became full-on rutting stallions in bed after their change. Her mind supplied a slip-silver image of Nevin, gloriously nude, rising beneath the full moon like a
rpt'ai
beast, ready to devour and take her by the sheer weight and power of his dominance. She shivered despite the warm sun, watching him across the stream; he appraised her likewise, his black eyes narrowing hungrily.

Oh, yes, he definitely had the classic look of the ancient Refarians. Some murmured that he had royal blood in his lineage since the D'Aravni and D'Ashani males all matured at a younger age than other non-royals. She could easily recall the day about a year ago when he'd strutted into the kitchen, as smug as she always thought he seemed, and with blazing eyes had defied a damn soul to comment on the change in his hair color. It had taken all of three days for his thick, gleaming black hair to turn.

No one had murmured a word. No one even so much as thought about gossiping or snickering behind Lieutenant Daniels' back. He was that sort of leader—so serious, so incorruptible, and always just a little bit dour.

Until these past hours when all of a sudden it was as if the ground beneath them had cracked open, as if the universe had tilted askew and she'd seen the lieutenant for the sensuous creature he truly was—had obviously always been, but kept it hidden behind a carefully constructed veneer of leadership.