Ultimate Passage: New Beginnings: Box Set ( Books 1-4) (10 page)

O
ne moment everything
had seemed fine; they were having a great day, he was dumping the trash in the barrel, and the next moment some guy was snapping at Marissa, pointing a finger in her face.

Finn had noticed the guy walking up and down along the seawall behind them throughout the day, but had thought he was a random tourist or a local. But this guy knew Marissa’s name and was threatening her. Finn double-timed it and got between them.

“You okay?” Keeping his eye on the newcomer, Finn didn’t turn to look at Marissa.

“What the hell does that mean?” The man’s face reddened between a haircut that was a shade too perfect and clothing that was too unrumpled. “Why would she not be okay? And who the hell are you?”

Finn eyed him, dismissed him as a non-threat. “Who wants to know?”

“Her fiancé. That’s who.” The man sputtered his words out.

Finn hadn’t seen any mention of a fiancé or even a boyfriend in the file, even though he was sure the files were up to date. “Marissa?” He glanced back at her.

Marissa put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Ex. And not even fiancé. Finn, meet my cheating ex, Joey. And it’s ex-boyfriend, not even ex-fiancé, by the way."

“Bullshit. Did she tell you I just proposed to her? That we went to her father’s gravesite together? Did she? Two-timing whore.”

“I forgot to mention delusional ex-boyfriend,” Marissa added. “Oh, and I’d better not forget arrogant and self-centered.”

“You bitch. After all I was willing to do for you.” The man raised his arm.

Finn grabbed it and flipped him. The man landed with a thud, flat on his back.

It hadn’t even registered to Finn that he was going to do it; he’d simply reacted. “Don’t ever raise your hand to her again. Stay down.” He put his hand on Marissa’s lower back, guiding her. “Let’s go.”

The man, Joey, stayed in the sand.

Finn fought to regulate his breathing, to keep his wings from popping and his skin from changing. It took all his concentrated effort.

M
arissa didn’t want
to turn back to look at Joey, sprawled in the sand in an undignified position. “I can explain.”

“You don’t need to.”

She couldn’t tell if Finn was angry with her, believed Joey, or was simply indifferent to the whole thing.

“I want to. He’s really my ex. Truly. He asked me to marry him in exchange for his funding the restaurant.”

“I believe you.” He was still expressionless.

“Why do I sense something?”

Then he turned her way with that same smile he’d given her earlier. “I’m fine. I believe you. He has nothing to do with us.”

Us.
She liked the sound of that, even though she knew it didn’t mean anything. He was a stranger from out of town who would probably be going back home again soon. “Okay.”

Finn led her to a restaurant a little further down Seawall Boulevard. Luckily, Joey didn’t follow.

Once they had a dinner of shrimp, rice pilaf, and sweet ice tea in front of them, Joey wasn’t quite forgotten but wasn’t at the forefront of Marissa’s mind anymore.

Finn tore through his entrée and almost seemed to be eyeing hers.

“Want some of mine?” She thought it was polite to ask, though she didn’t really want to share the delicious fare.

“I want some of you.” His words drew a heat to her cheeks; she could feel a blush rising. His gaze saw right through to her own desire, barely kept at bay all day. She shimmied in her chair, squirming, trying to drive the yearning away.

Think. Think. Think. Something to say. Anything to keep from wanting to leave and get naked with this man.
What was wrong with her? This wasn’t her at all. “So where are you from?” Had those words really just popped out of her mouth? She’d asked that question before, and he’d answered it. She couldn’t even control her train of thought, and her mouth went into autopilot.

A perplexed look crossed Finn’s face.
He thinks
he’s
confused.
He had no idea how she felt.

“I told you. Austria.”

“Okay, is that all you’re going to say about yourself? That you attended private schools, which explains why you don’t have an accent? That’s all I’m getting? After all that I told you?”

“You remind me of someone there.”

Oh, great. An old girlfriend. Just what she needed. To remind a guy of an old girlfriend he’d never gotten over. Now she wished she hadn’t asked. “I bet.”

“My grandmother.”

“Oh. I thought—” Now what? It had gone from bad to worse. Or had it? She’d gone from reminding him of an ex to reminding him of his grandmother. Very unsexy. “I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. I’m sure she’s not young.”

“Actually, she’s not alive.” He took a long drink of the tea.

Now she felt like shit. “I’m sorry.” What else was there to say?

“I meant to say, you remind me of what she was probably like when my grandfather met and fell in love with her. She was a—hu—American.”

“That’s romantic. Were you close to her?”

“She raised me. My mother died giving birth to me. Complications of some kind. My grandmother was brave. She moved to a fairly hostile land in the middle of a warzone, and made the most of a life with my grandfather. She risked a lot when she didn’t have to.”

This was the most he’d said to her in one sitting. Marissa didn’t want to interrupt him by saying anything for fear he’d stop.

“Ready to go?” He put his napkin under his plate’s lip and pushed back his chair.

“I guess you are?” She forced a laugh, saddened that he didn’t want to contribute anything else. “Sure. That’s okay.”

Finn paid the tab, then suggested a walk.

The evening was balmy. A light breeze kept the humidity at bay and the ocean salt permeated the air.

Under a streetlamp, he stopped and pulled her to him.

“I want to thank you for today. It’s probably one of the best days I’ve ever had.” He leaned in and brushed her lips with his.

“Why does this sound like goodbye?” A sadness engulfed her.

He held her closer, his body hard against hers, his arms around her. The hug was tight, as if he didn’t want to let her go, but knew he must. Tears threatened. Marissa didn’t understand why it felt like goodbye, but what was far more alarming was the way that the blues overwhelmed her. She bit the tears back, forced the burning in her nose away. She wouldn’t cry. No, she wouldn’t. She forced herself to think. To speak, to change her train of thought and change the subject.

“Were you close to her?”

He paused. “My grandmother? Close enough. She was foreign. I had a hard time accepting her. Being related to her made me feel different.”

Stay on track. Don’t think about saying goodbye.
“You mentioned she’s not alive...”

“No. She died almost two weeks ago. I was out of town on a mission.”

Alarms went off in her head. “Mission?”

“Yes, military.”

She drew back and looked at his face. His eyes were deep, dark, indigo pools, his jaw strong and chiseled. The lips that had just touched hers were serious, somber.

“But I thought... didn’t you say... aren’t you a headhunter?”

“Maybe I’m not the kind of headhunter you think I am.”

Chills made their way across her flesh, and she fought the urge to push away. “You’re freaking me out now.” She rubbed her arms to scrub the goosebumps away. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean. Should I be afraid of you?”

“Never.”

And somehow she felt she could believe that one word. “Then you have some explaining to do.”

A blow to her back that felt like a brick wall knocked the breath and the words out of her.

A hoodie-shadowed face was next to hers. The tip of a knife pricked at her neck.

“Your wallet, bitch,” a gravelly voice said next to her ear.

“Now,” another voice demanded, this one higher-pitched. In the background a third figure was silent.

“Let her go.” Finn’s voice was different. Almost scary.

It was a blur, everything moved so fast.

Finn catapulted forward.

The guy holding her dropped, without uttering a sound.

The other guy pounced closer. The third one was immobile.

A flash of steel near Finn.

He grunted, dropped to one knee, rose, and was almost a blur again.

The second man fell. Both men stayed down. The third one ran, but not before his hood had fallen off, revealing Joey’s profile just before he turned and sprinted away.

“Joey.” The word escaped from her lips. “That was him.”

“It sure was. Doesn’t matter, he’s gone. I’ll take care of him later.” Finn touched her neck. “I want to be sure you’re all right. Are you?”

“Yes. Are you? I thought they got you when you fell.”

“I’m good. They—”

He stumbled and fell between the two men on the concrete.

T
he second man
had gotten him. There was a slice on Finn’s arm, another on his thigh. Blood warmed him, and his clothing stuck to the wetness.

Marissa put a hand on his arm, then jerked it back. “You’re bleeding.”

He put weight on one leg, not the one with the cut, then pushed himself up. “I’m fine.” His knee buckled, and he almost fell, catching himself on the thigh-high seawall. “I need to rest.”

“We need to get the cops.”

“No police.”

“Why the hell not?” She put both hands on her hips.

He would have smiled if he weren’t in so much cursed pain. “No police. Can we go, please?”

She grumbled, but led him toward her car. He was getting weaker with each step. “You saved my life.”

“It’s nothing.” He heaved the car door open. It felt fifty times heavier than the last time he’d opened it. He was getting weaker.

She buckled herself in. “Now what?”

“Rest. Somewhere to recoup.”

“You need a doctor.”

“No. Just take me somewhere private.”

“No doctor. No police. What gives?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Simplify it.”

“I’m—” His mind raced. What could he say? He couldn’t get words to turn into thoughts. “I’m AWOL.”

“Does it have something to do with your grandmother?”

He latched onto the lie. “Pretty much.” His wings pressed against the skin in his back. He was converting. He had to stop the process, and if he couldn’t, he needed to be alone. “I need somewhere.” He leaned the seat back.

“I’ll get a hotel room.”

He didn’t know how much time had lapsed when he felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes. They were in a hotel parking lot.

“Be right back.” Marissa pushed her door open.

“Please, no medics or police.”

With a shake of her head, she closed the door.

He was at her mercy. A position Finn didn’t like being in, at someone else’s mercy.

M
arissa helped
Finn into the room. He leaned against her, his weight heavy until they reached the bed, then he collapsed onto it, an undignified heap.

Marissa stretched him out, took a sheet off the second bed and nicked it with her fingernail clippers, then ripped it into strips. She couldn’t see the wound on his leg well enough to access it so she unbuckled his pants and began the slow process of taking them off his long body. She couldn’t allow it to take too long; the amount of blood was alarming.

Once his pants were off, she held a washcloth to the sliced flesh with one hand and tried to weave the strip of sheet under his thigh and around to the other side so she could tourniquet it, cursing under her breath the entire time. The stupid man wouldn’t let her take him to a hospital. Ignorant!

She studied the wounds. Then she rubbed her eyes. She was seeing things. She rubbed them again. No, his skin, it looked... green. Then it looked like a light fluorescent blue. She was tired, hallucinating. Three paces later she was in front of the bathroom sink, splashing her face with cold water.

Behind her, Finn moaned. She turned around, dropped the towel, and backed up a pace.

“Holy shit.” Her retreat was halted by the countertop behind her.

Finn’s color had changed again. Now it was a bright, shifting green. It looked like the brightest chameleon’s skin, rippling under the surface with luminous shades of emerald.

Finn was mumbling something under his breath. She wanted to go closer, but fear froze her feet to the carpeting.

“Marissa. Must save Marissa.” His voice was audible now, the words clear.

His skin changed color again, becoming a wave of undulating tangerine hues, shifting from his face, down his chest, over his abdomen.

What the hell was going on here? She looked at her purse, lying on the dresser across the room. She could grab it and her keys and leave. Never see him again. Except he knew where she lived.

What was he? She stepped toward the end of the bed, one pace closer to her purse.

His mouth opened again. “Marissa. Can’t let her get hurt.” His eyes were still closed.

Did he know what he was saying? More importantly, what
was
he saying? What did he mean? Save her from what? Couldn’t let what hurt her? Was he reliving the attempted mugging?

So you’re going to leave this man who just saved your life?

She rubbed her temples and took a step closer to her purse, keeping her eyes on Finn.

Wait a moment. The man who’d saved her life? Man? Who said this was a man? He wasn’t like any man she’d ever met before. This changing-skin thing... that couldn’t be good.

She was torn. Half of her wanted to get the hell out of there. The other half felt like she owed this injured man—being—thing—whatever he was—

She owed him something.

When he sat up, she thought he was reaching for her. She sidestepped to the right, closer to the mirror and the television. His eyes were still closed, and his skin was still doing that undulating thing and shifting colors. His moans were low, and he didn’t say anything else.

“Finn?” She kept her voice to a whisper. She didn’t really want to wake him if he wasn’t awake, but she also didn’t want to walk past him if he was awake and pissed that she was trying to escape.

Are you really trying to escape?
Damn her inner voice. She didn’t need the pressure.

She took a couple of steps closer to the door. She was almost in front of him. He was still moaning, but now he shifted slightly.

Suddenly he bolted upright to a sitting position. His eyes were still closed. Behind him something moved, then there was a fluttering sound, almost imperceptible.

Marissa jumped back.

He had wings.

Or something like wings. No, no, no. It was definitely wings. They had spread out, a pair of white, almost opaque things—wings—whatever.

Making sure his eyes were still closed, she leaned in for a better look. Those wings looked like a diaphanous fabric.

This couldn’t be. How could she have missed that? What the hell was he? Why was she still here?

That did it. She needed to be out of here. Gone. Done. Over it already.

She glanced at the door, then back at him. Curiosity was getting the best of her, but mostly because she’d always felt so safe around him. She let a breath out she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Maybe he was a demon. Or an angel. Screw this, she was out of here. There was no reason to find out what he was. This wasn’t something she wanted to be involved in, whatever it was. Whatever he was. She clutched her purse to her chest and tiptoed toward the door.

She didn’t get two steps before a hoarse whisper called her name.

Finn’s voice was tortured. Great. Just what she needed. Because she was a sucker.

“Where are you going?”

Disbelief froze her feet. “You ask me that when you have those—those—wings? Or whatever those things are.”

He shrugged, but it was more like a shrug to figure out if something was there. As if to determine that the wings were there, not as if to say ‘I don’t know.’

He nodded. “That’s what they are.”

She folded her arms over her chest. Was this guy for real? Jeez, was he even a guy? Not as in male ... her mind didn’t want to go there because he was definitely all male, but more like, was he even human? “How can you be so nonchalant?”

Oh, boy, she was getting more and more pissed by the moment. She fought the urge to stomp around the end of the bed. Or maybe to throw something. “And what world do you live in that you don’t think you should tell a girl—ugh!—” She didn’t want to say it out loud. What else could she say, though? “We did
things!
Naked
things
—and—are you even human?”

“A quarter.”

His wings folded back. Or he folded them back. Who the hell knew at this point? She sure didn’t. “What? Quarter... what? What are you talking about?” She had to struggle to keep her hysteria from making her voice rise. She wondered if she should be scared. But this was Finn. She couldn’t fear him. There was something innate about the trust she felt around him. But right now, her anger was overriding all other emotions. “Well? What?”

“I’m a quarter human.” His voice was calm, his words enunciated clearly, as if he was talking to a dull-witted person. “Three quarters Asazi. My grandmother. She was human.”

“So she’s real? Because I was starting to wonder if anything you’ve told me is the truth.”

“She was very real.”

“So you’re only a quarter human and three quarters...?”

“Asazi.”

“Which is what? And from where?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“You look like you’re leaving.”

“Let’s see. A guy I was
sexual
with sprouted wings and has skin that’s a cross between a dragon and a chameleon. You’re not seriously asking why I’d consider leaving, are you?”

He looked down. “I guess not.”

“So what’s your story? And make it the short version. I get bored easily.”

She wondered if she was being too bitchy. Nah, he—he’d lied. Or at the very least, he’d misrepresented himself. Then again, another part of her asked,
What was he supposed to say? Don’t freak out, but I have wings and this cool skin that ripples different colors?
Like he would have said that? Like she would have believed it?

She uncrossed her arms and leaned back against the dresser, trying hard not to look as pissed and confused as she felt.

“Short version. I’m from another planet. We used to live on Earth, but were banished. We came to get resources. Our wings don’t work.” He stopped, bit down on his lip, then released it and stared at her. As if he were waiting. As if it were up to her. As if anything were up to her.

She sucked air in, then heaved a breath out. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked for the short version.”

His face was somber, open, and vulnerable. A look she’d never seen on him before.

“Do you trust me?” His voice was just as somber, open, and vulnerable.

She didn’t pause to think. If she were to spend any time thinking of the answer to that one, she wasn’t sure she would be completely honest. So she dove right in. “That’s a strange question. But my answer may be stranger, because I don’t think I understand it completely. I trust you not to bring me physical harm.”

A question was forming in his expression, a brief frown. “As opposed to?”

“Lying to me, Mr. Headhunter.” She hoped that her statement stung as much as the lies he’d told her did, or as much as the truths he hadn’t revealed stung.

His color shifted to a bluish shimmer.

“Wait. Wait a damned moment. Why did your color just change?”

“It matches our emotions. We cannot lie in our own skin. It’s different in human skin. That masks our emotions.”

She had to know, because for some stupid reason she had begun to feel
something
for him. “How do you become human?”

“Adjust our heart rate, then draw our skin over our wings and transform our skin’s appearance by adding a human layer.”

“So, are you in your true form right now? Not some in-between form? I mean, because except for the wings and the color-changing thing, you look very human.” She didn’t add,
very hot and sexy and very human.
Some things shouldn’t be said, especially not at a time like this. “And you said your wings don’t work? Meaning you can’t fly?”

“Yes, this is my true Asazi form. And that is correct. We haven’t been able to fly since the Banishment.”

“Banishment—what?”

His smile was rueful. “I told you it was a long story. You said you wanted the shortened version.”

“Wait. What happened to your wounds?” She approached, reached for his leg, put her hand on it. The wound had healed. “What the hell is going on here?”

“We heal fast.”

“We is who?”

“Asazi people.”

“You say people, but people don’t have wings, don’t do that skin color thing. And people live on Earth. Why are you on Earth, again?”

“We’re having problems with procreation.”

A blush warmed her cheeks as she thought of his body. “What do you mean, you can’t procreate? You have the equipment. And you didn’t look like you have problems to me.”

“Our females.”

“Have you people thought of e-mail brides?”

“We need something. I’m not sure what. I’m a soldier, not a scientist. I deliver the females.”

“And I’m one of them.”

“You were. Now I’m...” He hesitated.

She wondered what he was going to say. “So your grandmother dying is bullshit? Is she even human? Not that I believe any of this, but shit, you have wings. So I guess something’s true. Maybe you’re an angel.”

“My grandmother. That’s not bullshit. And she really died. And she’s human. And I’m part human.”

“And my meeting you really wasn’t an accident. You really are hunting me?”

“Not hunting. But you aren’t an accident. You were my first target.”

“I am?”

“No. I rearranged the order.”

“You’re allowed to do that? Why did you do that?”

“No. And I don’t know. There’s something about you. So I picked up 42. Kal said she was brought home after they were done with her. But she wasn’t. She’s missing. They ordered me to return to the ship. But I didn’t go. I left. I ran away. And then you.”

“Me. Yeah. Me. Drunk me in the bar. Easy pickings.”