Ultimate Passage: New Beginnings: Box Set ( Books 1-4) (20 page)

“I missed you,” he muttered.

She slid upward along his torso, her legs straddling his hips, her thighs holding him a willing prisoner. Another shift, some shuffling, and she was lowering herself onto his shaft, her sex embracing him in a snug, enveloping cocoon. She rocked on him, grinding, rising, and dropping on his rod, each stroke pushing him closer to the edge. He seized her hips, raising his body, impaling her on his hardness.

Beneath him his wings struggled for release. Teetering on the apex of pleasure, he sat up, pulling her legs around him. He reached between them, sliding his hand between their sex-slicked, sweat-glistening bodies. He found the center of her pleasure and teased it with the circles that always pushed her out of control.

A flapping sound he’d recently become accustomed to was followed by a fanning sensation of cool air passing over his body.

Wings.

Flapping.

That was exactly what his wings did when he climaxed. He groaned, coming ever closer to reaching that pinnacle.

Her scream of passion pierced his pleasure, driving it but at the same time confusing him—

—because his wings should not—could not—because—

He.

Was.

Not.

Climaxing.

His eyes flew open.

The woman impaled on his shaft—
cursed shadows of fire—Alithera
!

He pushed Alithera away, shoved her with a fierceness he had never felt toward her before. Thrown off him, she hit the wall and slid down. She shook her head, her wings creating a backdrop of translucent imagery.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was hoarse from sex and shock. He swallowed the panic back. Then another reality hit him.

“You have wings!”

She didn’t answer. He wondered if he’d hurt her, incapacitated her. She wasn’t talking to him, but her eyes were open. He rose from the bed and threw the sheet on her, covering her nudity. Then he pulled pants on, fumbling and struggling, his fingers shaking, his breathing not yet returned to normal.

You can’t have wings. You’re a girl—a woman. Female.”

“That’s what my mother said when I showed her.”

“What?” He didn’t know what stunned him more, her wings or that he had just had sex with her. He’d cheated on Marissa. But he hadn’t know he was doing that. His mind raced through all the questions about her wings, what they had done, why she had come here. “Why did you leave Kormia? Why did you come here?”

“There was talk of arranging a new Binding for me. I could not afford to have anyone else know about my wings. They’d start to draw parallels to the Sacred Writings.”

The Sacred Writings. His jaw must have dropped open, because he had to close his mouth.
Damnation.
He didn’t subscribe to Asazi beliefs, but... “The winged woman. That’s you?”

She gave him a dirty look. “Don’t be foolish. I’m Ali. Not the winged woman. Not the one from the Writings.”

“How have you kept your wings a secret? They are a secret, right? Of course, they must be, or people would have—” He had no idea what the Asazi would do if they thought the Bearer had arrived. “Who knows about—” He almost couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Your wings.”

“Just my mother.”

“How have you kept them a secret? I mean, they stick out. You know?”

“I wasn’t born with them. They popped out. The same time as these.” She dropped the sheet and cupped her hands beneath her breasts, as if offering him the rosy-crested, stiff-peaked mounds.

Finn turned away. “Cover yourself.” But his manhood defied his will to behave, stiffening in his pants, pressing against the fabric.
Damnation.
Was this what being human was about? Loving one woman but still being able to lust for another? He almost wished for his simpler, old Asazi days, except that would have been pre-Marissa, and he couldn’t imagine a life without her.

She brought the sheet up slowly, creeping it over her abdomen, her swelling curves and pearlized tips, concealing her breasts. “Finn, what’s wrong? Why are you sad?”

Cursed Asazi skin. She’d read his mood. He took a deep breath to clear the sadness.

“Nothing.” His voice was gruff, though he hadn’t meant to be. Curses, he missed Marissa.
“How did you manage to keep them a secret? How did you react when you found them? How did your mother react when you told her or showed her?”

Her smile was wry, on the sad side. Her color was a light blue, tinged with violet. “At first, I wasn’t sure what they were. I had this tenderness on my shoulders. Then later, tremendous pain, like teeth erupting. I suppose the principle is the same, right?” She looked like the old Ali. The one he had grown up with, a tough but vulnerable tomboy.

“I don’t know if it would be the same principle as teeth coming in. I was born with my wings.”

She shrugged and her wings fanned out behind her. They were ivory, almost diaphanous, even elegant—so very different from his male wings.

“My mother—she was shocked, but she said she’d always known I was different. Since the night of the dream.” She clamped her lips into a thin, white line, as though she’d said more than she’d intended to.

Finn studied her, eyes narrowed. He wondered what dream she meant, unsure whether he should pry or how to proceed. He wanted to see if she would continue unprompted.

She didn’t.

“And?” he finally prodded.

She shook her head as if she was unsure, or in denial. “My mother did not want me to be the target of any religious fiascos. Those who are held up above others do not necessarily fare well. She mentioned names of some of those persecuted on Earth. Prophets. Messiahs.”

Finn remembered some of the Earth history he’d learned. He nodded his understanding.

“So how did you manage to hide your wings? They aren’t exactly small.”

Her wings, like his, were wider than she was tall.

“She bound them with bandages, wrapped them tight every morning, and only removed them late at night.”

“I guess it would have been more difficult if you’d had a father or siblings at home.”

“True.” Her nod was slow, with measured sadness. “Though when I saw your relationship with yours, I was jealous. I loved your father, you know. Like he was my own.”

“He felt the same. I could tell.”

Her eyes became glassy with unspent tears.

Finn felt bad for bringing it up. “So what are your plans?”

“Not to return to Kormia. Ever. For any reason.”

“That’s—” He didn’t know what to say. “That sounds like what you do not want. But what do you want?”

“How can I know? I was in the service on Kormia, but not active duty. I couldn’t shower or change in front of women. I had to live with my mother so that someone could bind my wings. I never got a chance to practice morphing into human skin, so I’m barely able to manage now. I’ll have to be a prisoner here, won’t I?”

“I can help you with becoming more adept at transforming. That way you can keep your skin and wings from being noticed.”

She looked down. “Can I ask you something?” Without actually waiting for permission, she barreled on. “The woman. The one you care for. Does she know you are Asazi? Has she seen your wings and skin?”

“Yes.” Thinking of Marissa forced a sadness over him, and he felt homesick for her touch, her scent, her everything.

“And she doesn’t mind? Or care? Or judge?”

Her questions made him miss Marissa even more. “Not at all.”

“I shouldn’t have come in here. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never felt that urge before.”

Finn pondered that. “When was the last time you ate?”

She laughed. “When you gave me that meat and bread sandwich.”

“No, I mean before that.”

“It had been a while.”

“You missed your designated meal time?”

“Oh, yes, more than one. I heard someone whispering about some of the things that were happening on Earth, so I had to go and learn more. And I couldn’t stay there. So I had to sneak onboard the vessel, and then wait until Kal was on board. I couldn’t take the time to eat. Why?”

Finn wasn’t ready to share his suspicions about the food. If he told her about it, he’d have to tell her she could fly. He wasn’t sure if he should make that public knowledge yet. What if he needed his wings to escape? If anyone else knew about them, they’d make sure he couldn’t. He didn’t want to think that he had enemies on Kormia, but he had learned that enemies could show up in unexpected places.

“What we did was enjoyable.”

No. That was not a discussion that Finn was willing to have with her. He was far from accepting of what happened between them. He needed time to work through it, and then he would have to tell Marissa the truth. He was not going to glorify his act with Alithera.

“If you’re going to learn how to pass without notice around humans, we should get started on that.” He rose and headed to the restroom to wash fatigue from his eyes. “Go change into something.” He rethought that statement. “Into your uniform.”

She pouted.

Immune to that after many years of growing up with her, he turned his back and closed the restroom door.

“It does not fit over my wings. And I cannot bind them, not without help.”

He opened a dresser drawer and threw her one of his tank tops. “Put this on. At least your wings will fit underneath it. Once I show you how to convert, you will be fine.”

And then it occurred to him. Could she? Could she cover her wings under her skin like he did?

M
arissa stared
at the cell door. She hadn’t slept, all—what? Day? Night?

She heard footsteps. They weren’t like the woman’s from the other day. They were far heavier. Her heart did a couple of backflips at the thought that Finn had arrived.

She ran to the door and grabbed the bars. A face she’d hoped to never see again appeared: the partner of the soldier she’d killed. He had a smile on his face, not a very friendly one.

“Here to gloat?” She wished she could bite her tongue. Why did she always resort to being a smartass?

“I am here to escort you. I have requested and been granted this honor. It is only fitting.”

His statement roused more doubts and questions. “Escort me where? What honor?”

His glance was condescending, dismissive. “To the entrance to Midland. The Council has met. You will not stand trial. You have been sentenced to death.”

The banishment Kal had told her about. She grabbed the bars for support to keep from collapsing. “Not that.”

“Yes, that. Immediately.”

“Wait. No. Finn. He’s coming. Do you know Finneas Ramont? He’s coming to help.”

The Asazi soldier bared his teeth in a menacing smile. “Finneas Ramont will have his own set of problems to worry about. He will not have time to concern himself with a human female, not even one carrying a human larva.”

“My baby is half Asazi, you douche. It’s not a larva.” She lunged for him, reaching between the bars.

He laughed. “Your baby is the product of a degenerate hybrid who thinks rules were not meant for him.”

Why did he hate Finn? She reached for him once more, her hands clawed.

“Do not give me cause to strike you again, human. Step away from the cage and control your limbs.”

Cage. That summed it up. “At least on Earth we call them cells.” That didn’t go far in making her feel better. She stepped back, wondering if she could manage to escape, then inwardly scoffed at her own stupidity. Escape to where? There was nowhere to escape to. If she got out of the building, then she’d probably be in Midland—the one place she definitely didn’t want to be, and the exact destination the Asazi had planned for her.

The soldier’s shimmering skin was green, the color of calm. Clearly he was at peace with her fate, even her death, she was sure.

“Do I get a last meal? Last phone call? Last goodbye?”

He studied her with the dispassion of a scientist evaluating a lab rat. “No.”

A door closing down the hall made him turn his head. He snapped a salute, sharp and precise.

Another Asazi soldier appeared, this one older and dignified. “Give us a moment,” he instructed her tormentor. He laid kind, non-judgmental eyes on Marissa, but gave no immediate indication of being helpful.

The first soldier puffed his chest out. “But, sir—”

“Do not make me repeat myself.” The older soldier remained calm.

The first soldier muttered something in Asazi and took slow steps departing.

That’s when it hit Marissa: they’d been speaking English. She looked at the older soldier. That had to be on her account—why else would he do that? He had done it for her. The act of kindness caused tears to well in her eyes. She blinked them away. “Thank you.”

“I wish things were different.” He took a step into the cell. “Marissa, I don’t have a lot of time. Finn will be on Kormia soon, but you will be gone and there is nothing I can do about that.”

And then it struck her—she had no idea who this kind soul was. “Who are you?”

“My apologies. I completely forgot. I am Finn’s uncle. Kal’s father. My name is Nevim.”

“If Finn is on his way, can’t I wait? I won’t do anything. I promise. I can wait right here.”

“I do not think you understand. It is already decided and Finn has his own set of problems.”

“Problems? What problems?”

“You do not need to concern yourself with that. You have to take care of yourself.” He sat down on the stone bench across from her and unbuttoned and reached into his shirt. He removed a long, triangular object, dark gray, smoothly chiseled and sleek. “A blade, deceptively sharp.” He took out a brown sheath. “Keep this on you, and keep the blade in it, because it can easily slice through almost anything. Only travel during daylight. At night find a place, try to rest, but do not sleep deeply. And lastly, kill any Kormic before they can kill you.”

“Please tell Finn where I am. Will you know where I am?”

“I will tell him the exit you are taken to.” He rebuttoned his shirt.

“What if I refuse to be taken?”

“They will carry you and dump you. There is no refusal. They would carry your unconscious body.” He straightened his uniform shirt, smoothing it.

“I’m not a killer. It’s not who I am. But—I was afraid.”

“Unfortunately there are some Asazi who will use this event to further their agendas, to fuel anti-human and anti-assimilation settlement of our people on Earth.”

“It sounds like I’m a pawn.” She put the weapon he’d given her back in its sheath. Its handle was reassuring, its length comforting. She tucked it in the front of her pants, beneath her shirt.

“I suppose I should go.”

Should she hug him? He didn’t seem the type. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “May the winged one keep you safe.” He flashed a quick symbol with his hands, touching his forehead and temple.

“What was that? What you just did and said? Was that a prayer? I’ve never seen Finn do that.”

“Finn is an unbeliever. He does not adhere to the Sacred Writings. He does not know that I know this about him.” He uttered a short phrase in Asazi. Probably another prayer, Marissa surmised.

Then, reverting to English, he called the first soldier in, calling him Talik. “She is ready. Take her to the lower exit to Midland, as determined by the Council.”

Nevim departed, his moss green and stone gray uniform blending perfectly with the walls. It occurred to her that those colors were no accident. They camouflaged perfectly in this urbanized ancient temple environment. She wondered what the other Asazi cities looked like. Were they as semi-primitive as this one?

Was it daylight or night above ground? She didn’t want to ask the partner of the dead soldier, the one Nevim had called Talik.

Talik escorted her out of the cell. Instead of heading in the direction Nevim had taken, the direction they’d originally come from, he headed the opposite way. She bit back her questions, quelled her protests.

At first, the tunneled hallway sloped down for at least a hundred yards. Marissa’s uneasiness about being underground threatened to push her into hyperventilation. She fought to control her breathing, resting her hand on the peculiar blade against her abdomen, like a shield over her baby. God, she’d almost forgotten about the baby. It would die when she did, of course. She clenched her other hand into a fist.
Wow, Dad, I’ve put myself in quite a jam.

The slope of the tunnel took a steep curve up. Marissa panted as they climbed. How much longer? Her throat was parched, her lips were chapped. The steps were so steep, they were almost a ladder.

The Asazi soldier stayed behind her. Then, when the slope became very much steeper, he was more below her than behind her. As she scaled the rough-hewn steps that were more like rungs, the abrasive rock scraped the skin off her fingertips and palms.

She chanced a glance beneath her, contemplating kicking the soldier so she could get away. Stupid idea, really, since he was well out of kicking range. Doubt raged within her. Where would she run if she did get away from him? Forward, to wherever he was taking her? Or back, toward the prison cell, where more soldiers would capture her and bring her right back here?

She finally arrived at the top of the tunnel and found her way blocked by a solid wall above her head—a wall of dirt, metal, and stone, from the feel of it against her raw fingertips.

She looked down at the soldier, ready to ask him what the next step was. He touched a spot on the wall, and suddenly her path was no longer being blocked as an opening slid sideways, burrowing into the dirt, creating an orifice large enough for a big man to crawl through. She pulled through it, crawling out, practically on her hands and knees, emerging from the ground like a burrowing insect. The soil beneath her hands was moist and rich-feeling, like potting soil.

She looked about, squinting against the still-too-bright light. She’d left the dystopian temple and had landed in a rain forest. She rose to her feet, unsteady from the long, steep climb up the tunnel. Lush green vegetation provided a measure of shade against the damp heat. Ivy covered much of the forest floor and the tree trunks. She did a 360, checking it out. Everywhere she looked, rain forest.

The Asazi soldier came out. He’d still not said a word.

“Now what? Where do we go? Which way?” There was no path as far as she could see.

“I return. You stay.”

She wasn’t ready for that. Hell, no. At the end of the tunnel she’d just exited, Finn would be arriving, sometime soon, if not already. She just had to get past this soldier.

“I don’t think so.” She charged him, lunging, shoving him aside so she could plummet down the opening and run her ass off to find Finn.

Except things didn’t always go as planned. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her down, then half-climbed on top of her, his face emotionless.

“Let me go, you bastard.” She wriggled, kicked him with her free leg, tried to liberate her ankle. She beat on his head and shoulders.

“Stop.” The word was a terse command, his tone low.

She fought harder, more frantically. He straddled her, raised his fist, pulled his arm back, cocked.

Marissa froze.

He wouldn’t punch a woman. Of course he wouldn’t strike—