Immortally Embraced (8 page)

I felt the heat on my face, then a lurch as his talons hit the surface and we came to a shuddering stop.

“Here?” I asked.

He grunted, as if I were the crazy one.

“Okay, dragon boy. Don’t get huffy,” I said as steadily as I could. With a snort, I remembered how that used to drive him crazy back in New Orleans. He’d shift and then I’d start telling him how the Zephyrs were way better than the Saints (his favorite) or how I was going to paint his apartment pink (the most un-Marc-like color in existence).

It’s not like I was razzing him on purpose this time.

I pried my stiff fingers from their grip on Marc’s back and eased onto the ground, hoping my legs would hold me.

As I slipped away, I felt a keen sense of loss. Which was ridiculous.

Hands on my knees, I let the hard weight of my duffel slide off my shoulder and down onto the ground. “Nice meet-up you’ve got going here”—a flat rock in the middle of nowhere. I was both cold and hot. My skin flushed, my body trembling.

Get a grip
.

I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the brightness of the lava bursts below us against the darkness of the night.

God, I hoped he knew what he was doing.

I gave him his privacy as he shifted behind me.

The barrenness of this place was overwhelming. The heat of it wound through me. I stared out at the blistering wasteland, at the distant battle lines of two massive armies.

Trembling, I checked for any sign of the imps. The air here was like a wild fire. Or liquid sex.

I felt myself grow wet.

This was ridiculous.

Hands unsteady, I rifled through my duffel, just to have something to do. Peachy. Part of Marc’s wardrobe had made it into my bag. I pulled out one very large, war-roughened combat boot. I chided myself because, hell, even that was sexy.

“What are we doing here?” I winced. I felt like we’d been dropped into a churning firestorm.

“We can’t cross the Great Divide without burning up.” His voice resonated low in my stomach. “We can’t skirt it without getting shot down.”

God, I was thirsty. I’d like nothing more than to lick a few water droplets from the hollow where his neck dipped into his collarbone.

No. It was the Great Divide talking, not me.

If I was going to have any sexy thoughts at all, they should be about Galen—who I would never see again.

Merde.

I flexed my free hand, refusing to look back at him. Marc was naked, I knew it. I didn’t need to be looking at that right now.

Focus
. We couldn’t simply fly around the Great Divide without getting shot down. “What if we go really far out of our way?” Preferably now. We’d probably run into imps again, but, “We still have plenty of night.”

We had to get out of here. I could feel him behind me. I could probably touch him if I wanted to.

“Both sides have patrols and skirmishers,” he said. “I don’t know how far out. They’ve also set up charges at the edges of their lines. If we don’t get arrested, we’ll be incinerated. The safest way is to go straight through the old army lines.”

My heart thudded against my chest. “Naturally.” That was about as suicidal as coming here with him in the first place.

“We’re meeting my contact here.”

I swallowed. Was he as turned on as I was?

He touched my shoulder, and awareness rocketed through me. “Petra, are you all right?”

I faced him. If I’d thought he looked good from a distance, it was nothing like up close. He was leaner than I’d remembered. Harder. I took in the sculpted planes of his chest, the pure natural strength of him as his muscles tapered down to … sweet heaven.

My face flamed. He was hard.

And he was beautiful.

His gaze traveled down to where I was staring and he cleared his throat. “Do you have my clothes?”

My entire body flushed with embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop looking. Not for a million dollars. “I dropped them,” I said, giving myself a mental shake, “except for this.” I handed him the boot.

The skin at his forehead crinkled. “Well, I suppose this is better than nothing.”

I didn’t see how.

“Step back,” he said, moving me aside as lava pooled near one of my feet.

“Holy—” I leapt straight at him, colliding with warm skin and muscle.

“This way.” His eyes glittered as we both took several steps back. “We don’t want you to get incinerated because you couldn’t stop staring at my cock.”

I flushed straight down to my toes. “It’s this place.”

“Yes,” he said, stark hunger radiating from him. “It magnifies whatever you’re feeling. With the armies, it’s usually battle rage. With us, it seems to be…”

Lust. He didn’t have to say it. We both knew.

I struggled to untangle myself from him. “We can’t,” I said quickly, before I said something else.

“I know,” he rushed, his voice raw. Suddenly impatient, he brushed past me, focusing on the lava finger. “Hell, why do you think I stayed away from you before?”

I’d assumed it was because he didn’t want me. Now?

I was almost glad for small, homicidal lava creatures.

The line of magma seeped from the underside of the rock, straight for me. My duffel sat a few feet away, near the edge, untouched. Most of the rock was clear, in fact. “What is it doing? Following me?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He slipped a hand inside his boot and pounded the hard sole onto the ground. The lava shrank back like a frightened animal. “These are treated,” he said, matter-of-fact, showing me the red underside of the boot.

“How does it not freak you out?” It’s not like the lava was fast, but it would have been on me before I realized it. And then what? How do you shake off molten rock?

“You don’t get lava fingers in your camp?” he asked, somewhat surprised. “We must be closer to the front.”

Another reason to avoid MASH-19X.

My eyes darted over his body again. I couldn’t help it. He was sleek, gorgeous.

It was too much. Being here. With him. I felt like we were on some demented outdoor camping trip, only we were on a life-and-death mission and we certainly were
not
together.

“Tell me again why I agreed to do this,” I said, watching him flip the lava finger off the rock like a hairy spider.

“Because you always do the right thing.” He dropped the boot and closed the distance between us. The corner of his mouth tipped up as he drew me into his arms, “even if it annoys the hell out of you.”

It was so achingly familiar, like coming home. I wanted to sink into him and stay there.

I ran my hands along his shoulders, up his neck. I’d forgotten what it was like to have him close. “So this,” I said, to be clear, “this is just the Great Divide?”

“Yes.” He brushed his lips over mine once, twice. “Maybe.”

I was tired of fighting.

He nudged my lips open. I reveled in the hungry sweep of his tongue. This is what I’d needed, what I’d missed so desperately. Marc, straightforward and brave, vibrant and alive.

He moaned, threading his fingers through my hair.

A rush of desire slammed into me. He deepened the kiss. Or maybe that was me.

We pushed against each other, raw, sensual. The kiss intensified until we shoved against each other, wanting it, needing it.

I hadn’t decided this, I hadn’t wanted this, I—

His breath came heavy and harsh against my mouth. “Goddamn it,” he ground against me.

I could feel him—all of him—hard and ready. My head swam and my pulse raced. I’d tried to forget this. Didn’t want to remember. “Was it ever this hot?”

His jaw was tight. “Yes,” he ground out.

His chest shone with a thin sheen of sweat. His cock jutted against the thin cotton of my pants. I ran my tongue over his collarbone, tasting the salt.

I wanted to touch him, to feel the weight of him in my hand.

Holy hell, I was a crazy person. I needed to stop, think, sing a tune. Anything.

Instead my fingers found his chest, his stomach, the dip of muscle at his hip. His breath hitched, or maybe it was mine.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This wasn’t just the lava or the energy or the Great Divide. This was me and I knew it.

I didn’t need to be getting involved with Marc. I didn’t want to use him. It would only bring pain for both of us. I couldn’t have him. I shouldn’t even want him.

Walk away.

I could do it. It wasn’t too late to back off. Step away. Fling myself off this fricking rock if I had to. I dug my forehead against the curve of his shoulder and slammed my eyes shut.

“Petra.” His voice was rough.

Stop, Petra.

Leave me alone, Petra.

I don’t love you, Petra.

Say it. Say any of it.

“Do it,” he hissed as I inched my hand lower.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” I couldn’t have him. Ever.

And before I could think of a reason why not, he drew me up for a biting kiss. I didn’t want to think anymore. I wanted to touch him, drive him, push him to the wall. Revel in the fact that this man wanted me.

It was stupid and it was wrong and I knew a hundred reasons why I should walk away right now, but I couldn’t.

The energy sizzled over my skin, the desire.

His breath scalded my cheek. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Touch me. Now. Just this once.”

I reached down and took all of him, hot and heavy, in my hand.

He pitched forward as raw desire tore from his throat.

Damn. I forgot how much I loved his cock.

He groaned as I cupped him at the base and stroked his entire length. I palmed his balls as he leaned heavy against me, his breath ragged against my hair.

He was amazing, thick, hard, beautiful. My thumb found pre-cum beading on his slit. I slicked it over the head of his cock and felt the sudden urge to taste it.

His hands on my hips tightened. “Remember my three-story walk-up near Snug Harbor?” he rasped.

It was a dump, and the air-conditioning hardly worked. “It’s one of my favorite places on Earth.”

We’d sneak up to the roof on steamy summer nights and listen to the sound of jazz in the distance as we rode each other for hour after desperate, groaning, glorious hour.

I ran my tongue just under one nipple. He tasted salty, fevered. “I want to suck your cock.”

“Sweet Jesus.” He threw his head back as I skimmed down his chest, his abs, his—

“Petra!” He pulled me up as rocks tumbled across the ground at our feet. My head spun with the suddenness of it. My body screamed at the loss. Before I could put a thought together, he already had me tucked behind him. “Stay back,” he said, as we faced one of the largest men I’d seen in my life.

His eyes were fiery, wild. He was at least seven feet tall if he was an inch, with leather armor studded with animal teeth. His mustache was long and curled at the ends, and he wore mounds of colorful beaded jewelry. He looked like he’d been out riding with Genghis Khan.

“Oghul,” Marc said, his shoulders relaxing even if the rest of him was still stiff as a board. He ran a hand through his hair, as if he needed to arrange … something. He drew an arm around me while staying half a step in front of me. “This is the man who’s going to get us across the divide.”

I wasn’t so sure about the
man
part. Marc refused to budge, so I reached around him, holding out a hand. “I’m—”

“No names,” Oghul said, whipping up an enormous curved sword.

Marc seized the barbarian’s wrist. “Point it down,” he ordered.

The Mongolian’s eyes were crazy, wild.

“Oghul,” Marc said, a clear warning in his tone.

The brute grunted and lowered his weapon.

Sure. This was just the guy we wanted to sneak us through an enemy camp.

Marc must have read my mind. “You don’t want to startle a berserker,” he said low in his throat.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, noticing Marc hadn’t taken his eyes off the wild man since he’d gotten here.

Oghul shrugged off his pack and began tossing uniform clothes at me. A tan medical officer’s jacket landed at my feet, a pair of pants sailed over my head, and Marc caught both my socks.

He’d also brought a spare uniform for Marc, which proved the Mongolian was way better at this spy business than I was.

Marc was dressed in no time. I tried to convince myself I was glad for him.

What was I saying? I was glad. I drew a shuddering breath. I’d almost gone down on a man who, frankly, I really should be pissed at.

He’d lied to me and let me think he was dead. He’d broken my heart. That was his fault. If I let him do it again, it would be mine.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked. I still held the enemy uniform in my arms.

“Yes.” We’d come this far. There was no backing down now. “I’m just not one for the uniform. That’s all.” I was a doctor, not a soldier and I avoided combat fatigues whenever I could.

“Stay in front of me,” I told Marc, although it didn’t look like Oghul was paying much attention. He stood at the edge of the rock sniffing the air.

“Don’t look,” I said as I slipped my shirt off.

Oghul didn’t seem to have heard, but Marc took me at my word. He stood facing the Great Divide as I lost my scrubs and slipped on the old army tan.

My throat tightened and I told myself it was just me getting used to the stiff, thick material of the pants and flak jacket. And not that I could be shot for wearing them.

“All set,” I said. My eyes flickered over Marc, determined to move forward, forget about what we would have been doing if Oghul hadn’t arrived when he did.

His green eyes blazed against the superheated wasteland behind him. His uniform fit to his wide shoulders and trim hips, and he was barefoot.

“You still need boots,” I said, as his gaze followed mine to his feet.

Oghul grunted, shucking off his. He had the widest, hairiest feet I’d ever seen.

“Thanks, buddy.” Marc patted him on the arm and slid his feet into the boots.

“Now your friend is going to stand out,” I said, as if the pointy-tooth jacket and wild jewelry weren’t enough. He even had hoops in his ears.