Dark Paradise (17 page)

White noise descended upon her mind with the cold snow of some ancient reflex and animal instinct. She stilled, pushing away the sound of his loud breath, his cruel smile, his hugeness.

He was flesh and bone, and she could destroy him.

She didn’t know what she was going to do until she did it. Her instincts took over, and she let them.

He lowered his head and pushed his mouth into the side of her throat, his teeth drawing blood. His hands were busy squeezing and pinching. He shifted and fondled hard a breast through the thin fabric of her shirt, then rammed his hand between her thighs, growling and groaning against her throat.

But she shut that out. She focused on what she needed to do, and with sheer desperate terror lending her strength, she raised the dullest of the sticks and rammed it with all her power into the back of his neck.

His reaction was fast, so fast, but she was ready. He roared and bucked off her, his hand reaching for the pain in the back of his neck. His eyes widened in shock, and she struck again.

She went for his vulnerable throat, screaming as she speared her sharp stake into that wide expanse of soft tissue. Still, he didn’t die.

There was no time to think. She scrambled away from him and fell upon half his weaponry and grabbed the first thing her fingers touched; a deadly crank.

She went at him, part of her realizing she was still screaming.

He rose jerkily to his knees, his arm raised to deflect her blow. The crank slid through his forearm like a knife through butter, and as he stared at his severed arm in stunned disbelief, she finished him.

She left the crank buried in his forehead where she’d planted it for the killing blow and stumbled away sobbing and panting. She fell to her knees and vomited, then dry heaved for what seemed like hours.

She shuddered and shook with cold, although the air was warm. She couldn’t think clearly, her mind was a buzzing entity that had left her, and her body weakened and turned against her. All she could do was fall into the dead, rotting vegetation lining the forest floor and cry.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before the emotion weakened and left her calm and empty, but at last, she climbed to her feet and forcibly pulled herself together.

“You’re a bad-ass bitch,” she told herself, “not some slobbering sissy. Get a grip, for God’s sake!” The talk didn’t do her a whole lot of good, but she’d always been one to fake it until she could make it.

She strode to the fallen housekeeper and stared down at him. She would look at him until his gruesome death no longer made her want to crawl inside a hole and hide away forever.

Finally, she remembered Mach and his battle, and that was the thing that got her moving. She snatched up some of Danix’s weapons and on still-shaky legs she sprinted back to him. He had to be alive.

Had to be.

He was. She saw him running through the woods, his huge, bloody body half running, half limping toward her.

“
Mach
,” she screamed and knew she would never forget the look on his face the instant he saw her.

He skidded to an immediate stop and let his weapons fall to the ground, his face showing the shock and pain of a barely won battle. He opened his arms.

Laughing, giddy with relief, she dropped her weapons and flew into his arms. He lifted her against his chest and held her so tightly she could barely breathe, and she didn’t mind a bit.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and slammed her mouth against his, her lips desperate to taste him, to taste the life within him.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, when at last she could drag her mouth from his. “You’re alive. You’re alive.”

He stared into her eyes, smiling, the lines on his face deep, his eyes tired. “Yes.” He slid her down his body, gently, then began looking her over, his fingers probing, questioning. “You all right?”

“I killed him, Mach. I killed Danix.”

He nodded. “I know.”

Surprised, she stared at him. “How?”

“Because you live.”

That made sense. “I was lucky.”

“No, Cin. You are a warrior.” And he thumped his chest.

She laughed, long and loud, the sound lighting the mountain with joy. She thumped her chest, grimaced, then thumped it again. “Damn right.”

Then she remembered. “Mach! Where are Saint and Satan?”

He grinned and pointed his chin to something behind her. “Look.”

She turned, already smiling, and there they were, zigzagging through the air like a couple of playful kids. “Saint! Satan! Come…”

They flew into her hands, buzzing with excitement, or so it seemed to her. She lifted them to her mouth, allowing only one sob to escape onto their not-so-pristine hilts as she kissed them. She closed her eyes in a long moment of thankfulness, then walked back to camp with Mach to put them to bed.

She had her knives, her Mach, and her life.

Now she could finish her task of gathering shrube to buy her way into paradise and once more have her Elder.

Then almost all would be right with her world.

They gathered up their packs and goods and left camp. They simply left the horror behind as well as they could but would never forget about it. She half wondered if retribution would descend upon them for the deaths of the housekeepers or whether the Gamlogi would simply send in more when they realized the first group had died.

And what of the housekeepers who hadn’t followed Danix this night? Would they seek retribution or escape into the wilds of Ripindal, happy with their newfound freedom?

That was worry for another time. Right now it hardly mattered. Hand in hand, they walked as far away from the fallen housekeepers as they could, before vultures and the hungry were drawn to the scent of fresh blood. They needed no more fights tonight.

Mach put together a makeshift camp miles from the battle they had fought, and they slept for only a couple of hours before he roused her and got them moving again. Upward, ever upward.

When they made camp for the night, she wasn’t sure she could manage more than to fall upon the ground in an exhausted heap, but Mach began gathering firewood, humming tunelessly beneath his breath, and she guiltily pushed her tiredness away and went to help him.

She could barely wait for the chores to be finished and dinner to be over so she could lie in his arms and love him.

That was her paradise.

Chapter Twenty

He insisted they would bed down in a rather shallow hollow carved into the side of the hill. “Storms will come.”

She had no reason not to believe him, although the scent of rain was not in the air. She got none of the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach that usually preceded a storm, not until later.

Much later, when she smelled rain in the air and her stomach tightened with reaction to the predicted storm, she looked at him in amazement. His senses were amazingly strong.

She was almost too tired to eat the supper he’d prepared, and had to be bullied into going to the stream to wash.

“I’m
tired
,” she told him.

He wrinkled his nose. “You smell of…” Then as if unable to find the right word for her stench, he pretended to pinch his nostrils closed while he held his stomach in agony.

Coolly, she lifted an eyebrow, not amused. But she didn’t hesitate to haul ass down to the water to clean her stinky self up.

She stripped quickly, wanting to get back to camp before the rains came and worse, the freaky lightning of Ripindal.

Still, she shot glances at Mach as he stood waist-deep in the stream and scrubbed, unable to help herself. He was something to look at, the huge warrior, with his bunching muscles, his long hair, his fierce eyes.

He’d taken down half of Danix’s men with only the help of Saint and Satan, and at the thought, a thrill of pride shot through her. Perhaps he was as proud of her. She lifted her chin and smiled. He should be.

Her hands slowed on her body as she watched him busily cleaning himself, and she was a little pissed that he didn’t even seem to be watching her or caring that she was standing a few feet from him naked, wet, and willing.

Sudsy and clean, he sank beneath the cool water, rinsing away the soap. He was nearly finished and would be striding back to camp before she had managed to climb out onto the bank.

Quickly, she finished washing as he exploded from the water, shaking himself like a wet dog. He left the water without once glancing her way.

Frowning, she immersed herself in the water to rinse, and when she arose from the water and looked for him, she found him standing on the bank with his clothes and hers in hand, waiting for her.

“Come, Cin.”

“You’re so damn bossy.” But she climbed from the water with embarrassing eagerness. Heat stung her face as he watched her walk toward him. She felt his gaze like it physically touched her, and despite her desire, she had to force herself not to hide behind her hands.

He made her feel so very naked.

That wasn’t a bad thing. Her entire body tightened and hummed with excitement and with the delicious anticipation of what was surely to come.

Gooseflesh pebbled her skin, and a slow, dull throbbing began between her legs. Her legs felt wobbly and insubstantial when she walked back to camp with him at her side.

His dark gaze constantly probed the shadows, all his senses open to what danger might be lurking. Still, he glanced at her and smiled. He knew what she wanted.

She cringed as her tender bare feet were pricked by sharp sticks and bruised by stones and was tempted to jump on his back and ride him to camp.

Imagining his warm, smooth back between her open legs as he jogged them back to camp kept her mind off her feet and on her need, and in short moments, she limped into camp and sat down with a grateful sigh.

She watched him carefully put their clothing into the hollow where they’d sleep, placing atop them the few weapons they’d taken with them to the creek.

She’d left Saint and Satan behind, had hidden them beneath a pile of dead leaves in a broken hollow log. She didn’t want to take a chance on losing them again.

The fire warmed her chilled hands, and after a minute, she began to finger-comb her wet hair, letting the heat of the fire dry it.

Mach knelt inside the depression and prepared their bed, and she thought longingly of her lost blanket. Not that it mattered, really. She wouldn’t get cold with Mach warming her in his arms.

At last, he looked at her. His eyes seemed to glitter in the firelight. From far away, came the lonely call of some unnamable night creature, and she shivered with something she couldn’t quite identify. Yearning, maybe, for a life long gone, wretchedness over the memory of a child she needed, for her own sanity, to release, a sudden sharp pang over the fact that she would never again bite into a hot slice of pizza or a Big Mac or a diet cola…

“Cin.”

She blinked hard and willed her tears not to show themselves. She was such a pussy sometimes. “What?”

He held out his hand. “Come here.”

She went to him, gingerly finding her footing on the rough ground, and let him pull her into their bed. She turned on her side, away from him, wiggling her backside against his warmth. Her sigh left her lips like a long ribbon of relief. “This is nice.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him, curling his big body around hers. “Nice.” He didn’t seem in the mood for nice, though, and thrust his groin against her ass.

She lifted her leg, and he slid his hard cock between them. His velvet hardness slid over her pussy, and she shuddered as her body recognized and welcomed his. “Mach?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see him again, that we’ll get into paradise? Really?”

He tightened his arm around her. “Yes.”

She nodded. “Of course we will.”

“You would be unhappy if you thought otherwise.”

She thought for a minute. “Devastated. I would be devastated if I thought I would never see him again.”

He nodded. “You know we will.”

“You’re right.” She smiled, relieved.

“We will hunt, trade, get shrube quickly.” He slid his hand up to cup her breast.

She lost her breath for a second. “Yes. And we’ll be with him soon.”

“Soon.” He moved his hand from her breast. He skated his fingers over her hip and between their bodies and pushed them between her legs. Gently probing, he found her clit.

She jumped, moaning. “Mach…”

He pushed her to her back and kissed her, his body half atop hers. He slid his lips over hers with a soft firmness that forced her mouth open. He slipped his tongue inside to touch hers, and she let herself go, let herself accept him and what he had to offer.

She let go, probably for the first time in her life.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, beneath his long, damp hair, she kissed him back, realizing she hadn’t wanted to fall in love, not ever again. That could destroy her more completely than any crank.

She smiled against his lips and whispered into his mouth, “That’s just too bad for me.”

He didn’t respond, either used to her oddities by now or just too turned on to care. Maybe a little of both.

“Fight and fuck, Mach. That’s what we do.”

He left her mouth to trail kisses down her throat.

“Mach…”

“Shut up, sweetheart.”

She shouted a surprised laugh. He’d sounded too much like Elder at that moment not to have gotten that little phrase from him.

She shut up. She didn’t know what she’d been trying to say anyway. And it didn’t really matter. He knew how she felt.

The storm came on with a sudden fury that promised punishment for those without shelter. It was fitting background music for the fire inside her, releasing her pent-up passion, and she let it come.

As though sensing the shift in her mood, he turned to his back and flipped her on top of him. She dug her fingers into his chest and lowered her mouth to his throat, nipping too hard at the tender flesh there.

He made no sound of pain or caution, simply let her do as she would. She moved down his body, darting her tongue out to taste him, tugging at his nipples, working her way to his huge, stiff cock.