Last Kiss Goodnight oa-1 Read online

  “Sleep, then.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a soft sigh. Her head lolled to the side.

  He traced the delicate curve of her jaw. He’d found her beautiful before, but now, knowing what he did about her, feeling the warmth of her skin surround him, inhaling the delicacy of her scent, mint and jasmine, she was exquisite. She was everything he’d ever wanted in his woman, and everything he’d never been able to have.

  X claimed she belonged to him. Despite everything, Solo wanted to believe that. He no longer wanted to fight the knowledge.

  And he wanted to believe she would be happy to wake up—really wake up—and find herself inside his cage, that she would not scream and cry and beg for mercy. After all, there was a big difference between seeing to an animal’s care and getting close enough to be bitten.

  His ears began to twitch. Finally, sound. Mumbling.

  Solo looked around, but saw nothing. Still the mumbling continued. And it was nearby. Frowning, he stood and approached the bars. He found Jecis on top of his trailer, meaty arms spread.

  Lightning flashed in the sky.

  Jecis’s voice rose in volume. The wind kicked up several notches. More lightning flashed, this time arcing toward the human, as though drawn to him. Maybe he would die, Solo hoped, but the moment the bolt made contact, the man’s body seemed to expand, black shadows bursting from him. A thick white fog formed at the edges of the shadows and rolled from the trailer to the cage. Solo listened, heard a whoosh of air, the patter of footsteps and slam of a door. Jecis must have gone inside.

  Next he heard the crackle of flames. Even felt the heat. He heard the soft rustle of shuffling footfalls, and there were enough to form an army.

  Uneasy, he stood guard. The fog began to thin . . . thin . . . and then everything changed—though nothing was for the better.

  Seventeen

  You will not be afraid of the terror by night, or of the arrow that flies by day.

  —PSALM 91:5

  A WASTELAND APPEARED.

  Solo looked around. He could still see Jecis’s trailer, but it was now surrounded by barren hills littered with dead trees, fat insects flying from one gnarled branch to another. There were fire pits in every direction, yellow-gold flames dancing in the hot, dry wind.

  The footsteps grew louder and louder in volume, until a crowd of men and women finally appeared, cresting over one of the hills. They tripped and raced in his direction.

  The monsters Jecis had mentioned.

  Solo had traveled the world, had seen terrible races, but never anything like this. The creatures were humanoid, with sagging, paper-thin skin that smelled of rot. Worms slithered along their scalps, and their eyes were dark and soulless—if they had eyes, that is. Some were blind, their sockets empty. But one thing every creature had in common, he realized as they converged on the cage: a hunger for prey. Moaning, snapping their too-sharp teeth, they reached through the bars in a desperate bid to grab him.

  Moving quickly, Solo slid Vika and the supplies to the center. Then, for the first time since his capture, he put his claws and teeth to good use. He slashed, and limbs fell. Blood sprayed. He bit, and had to spit out fingers. A foul taste coated his tongue.

  Adrenaline surged through him, burning, blistering, causing the drugs in the cuffs to activate. His motions slowed, but he managed to remain on his feet. Either he was developing an immunity or his determination was too great to be denied.

  For hours he continued to fight, his arms bruised from banging against the bars so many times, his shins cut and bleeding, but his opponents continued to drop like stones in an ocean, so the pain was worth it. And yet, the moment he felled one of the creatures, two more stepped up to the plate. How long would he be forced to do this without any visible results?

  The battle raged so long two suns began to rise in the burnt-orange, smoke-filled sky. He renewed his efforts, attacking with more fervor, desperate to protect the woman who had been placed in his care. Only, he next swiped and bit at air. The monsters were backing away from him, hissing as though their skin was too sensitive to tolerate more than the barest hint of light. They dragged their fallen with them, leaving only blood behind.

  Solo stood in place for the longest while, waiting, panting, but the monsters never returned.

  What were those things?

  There was no need to rack his brain about what they’d wanted. He knew. Him and Vika, a smorgasbord of delicious.

  Vika.

  His muscles and bones protested as he rushed to her side. There were specks of fresh blood on her cheeks, but none belonged to her. She still slept, completely unaware of the turmoil around her, with no new injuries, and relief speared him.

  He used the bottle of enzyme spray to clean her, then himself, then the cage. He didn’t want her to wake up and see a single hint of devastation—or fear him any more than necessary. He wouldn’t play her father’s game. All the while, he kept track of the seconds ticking by, needing to know how much time would lapse between the light and the dark, the peace and the chaos, just in case the monsters returned.

  He paced, swatting at the insects brave enough to try and bite him.

  He watched the hills.

  One hour passed, two, three . . . eight, nine. He woke Vika every sixty minutes to check her vitals, and she always told him that her head hurt and she wanted to sleep. He always let her.

  At the tenth hour, the suns began to descend. Within minutes, footsteps could be heard shuffling in the distance. Moans and groans arose. The monsters once again crested the hill. Only, they were now hungrier and far more determined to dine, chomping their teeth with more force, trying to slink through the bars to reach him.

  Rather than fight them, he tested the parameters of the cage by stretching out beside Vika and using his body to shield her. Jecis had hoped they would still be able to reach him, but Jecis had hoped in vain. And Solo liked this much better.

  Perhaps this land wasn’t so bad, after all.

  • • •

  For what seemed the most painful of eternities, Vika drifted from consciousness to unconsciousness, vaguely aware that someone was carefully tending to her needs. But that couldn’t be right. No one had ever carefully tended her needs.

  Oh, her father always appointed someone to bathe and bandage her after a beating, but usually that someone was Audra, who would only sit in her trailer, paw through her treasures, or torment her with the spiders.

  Was she imagining this?

  No. No, she couldn’t be. The sandalwood scent she’d added to Solo’s enzyme spray mixed with the unique fragrance of peat smoke he emitted, penetrating the stupor around her mind. Solo must be with her. That would certainly explain why she kept imagining that she was talking to him. Well, she wasn’t imagining, she realized.

  They were together, and the knowledge relieved her—but it also confused her. How were they together? She needed to wake up, find out.

  Sleep, X whispered. I’m doing what I can to enhance the medicine your father gave you, and I’ll do better work without any interference from you, thank you very much.

  She . . . remembered that he’d tried to help her inside the tent, with Matas. Yes. That’s right. Matas had hit her, and—she wasn’t sure what had happened after that. She only knew she had failed to listen to X and she had suffered. She wouldn’t make the same mistake.

  “I will. Thank you,” she said, and drifted off.

  • • •

  An eternity later . . . or perhaps mere minutes . . . the darkness faded from Vika’s mind and a fantastical dream took shape around her. She stood inside a shaded courtyard, jewel-toned flowers blooming in every direction, interspaced between towering white columns. On her right was a tall, muscled man she’d never before seen. He had dark hair and eyes the color of the purest ocean. His skin was a deep, rich shade of bronze, flecked with shimmers of gold. He wore a bright white robe and held a double-edged sword.

  On her left was another robe-wearing male, an
d though he, too, was tall and muscled, he lacked the first male’s beauty. Pale, tangled hair shagged around a face with hollowed cheekbones and chapped lips. His skin was chalk white, and his eyes so light a green they would have reminded her of diamonds set inside polished jade if they had possessed any kind of sparkle. Instead, they were dull, lifeless. He was without a weapon.

  Heart slamming against her ribs, she backed away from both. “Am I dead?”

  Both males faced her.

  “You’re here,” the dark-haired one said, motioning to the garden, “and you see me.” There was a layer of surprise in his tone. “Not even my charge has come here, and no one but him has ever before seen me.”

  “That means you can see me, too, can’t you, pretty girl?” said the blond, grinning a siren’s grin despite his ragged appearance. “Let’s make out to celebrate.” He reached for her.

  Just before contact she could not avoid, the other giant batted his hand away. “I will not allow you to harm her, fiend.”

  Though the blond hissed, he didn’t make another move toward her.

  She recognized their voices. The good. And the evil.

  “Pay no attention to him. I am the one called X, by the way, and I have been helping you as much as I’m able.” The dark-haired male offered her a warm smile. “You are not dead. You live. You had a lot of internal damage from all these years with your father, but you are now healing quite nicely.”

  X. The good. “Thanks to you,” she told him.

  “And Solo.”

  Solo. Her gaze swept the area. There was an alabaster bench a few feet away, but it was empty. “Is he here?”

  “No. As I said, he has never traveled here.”

  Disappointment filled her. “Where’s here?”

  “Alloris. I am Solo’s Altilium, and to protect him from rejection, I have kept him away, guarding him until he’s ready.”

  She was more confused than ever.

  “I’m called Dr. E,” the blond interjected smoothly. He reminded her of her father, when Jecis spoke to the crowd inside the big red tent during a performance. A soothing tone meant to beguile, hiding a wealth of wickedness.

  “He is not an Altilium,” the other said, “but an Epoto.”

  “Am not.” The blond offered her a smile as well, but his was far from warm. His was all teeth and no substance.

  “I don’t know what either of those things are.” Wait. She had heard their voices. Not just inside her mind, like before, but through her ears. Ears that had not worked in years. How was . . . why had . . . this wasn’t possible. Was it?

  Her entire body began to shake. How long had she dreamed of such a thing? Craved it with all of her being? How many times had she cried about the fact that she would never again have it? Countless. And yet here, now . . .

  Joy burst through her, as intoxicating as wine. “What do you want from me?” she asked, then blinked. Her voice! She’d just heard her own voice, as well. It was different from what she remembered, more grown-up, deeper.

  I truly can hear!

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever have an opportunity like this again,” X said determinedly, “so I’m going to throw a lot at you. Solo is a good man, and he’s attracted to you. You can grow that attraction. And if you do, he will allow you to take care of him, now and always, and he will allow you to stay with him, now and always. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “No, I—”

  “Need to put his needs above your own, yes.”

  She frowned, finishing, “Want to live on my own.”

  “If you do as I suggest,” X continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, “he will do the same for you, I promise you, and you will be happier than you’ve ever been. He will take such good care of you.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Dr. E replied, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “Solo is a terrible man. Just look at him. Hideous! And you’re so beautiful. You deserve better, a handsome prince to come and save the day. Besides, putting someone else’s needs above your own? Stupid!”

  “Solo isn’t hideous,” Vika snapped. He had a rough, masculine beauty that wasn’t apparent at first glance, but oh, by the second, third, and fourth, all she’d wanted to do was stare at him.

  X grinned at her, a proud gleam in his eyes. “Solo can help you, Vika, and you can help him. But the choice is yours.”

  “Choice? There is no choice. If you place yourself in Solo’s care, you will be placing yourself in a worse situation,” Dr. E said. “Think about it. Solo landed himself in a cage, and you earned yourself a beating. You two really only know how to get into trouble. If you get together . . .” He shuddered.

  She ignored Dr. E, saying to X, “I will set Solo free.” The cuffs were still a problem, but she couldn’t remain at the circus any longer. She just couldn’t. At long last, her new life would begin.

  As Dr. E sputtered, X said, “You will free him, yes, but then you will leave him to hide from the rest of the world, despite the fact that you are meant to be joined to him, and he to you.”

  Joined? “As long as he’s in those cuffs, he’s a target for Jecis.”

  “Even still, you will be stronger together, two halves of a whole.” He was flickering in and out of view, his voice alternating between fading and growing in volume. “Tell me you’ll stay with him, no matter what.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. She would free him and strike out on her own. She would free the other otherworlders, too, but that was all she could promise. “I’m sorry.”

  Dr. E laughed with glee, the hunch in his shoulders suddenly less exaggerated. “Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  Sadness tinged X’s frown—and she noticed his shoulders had begun to stoop. “A wrong turn leads to a wrong end. You’ll find yourself in a place you were never supposed to visit.”

  “So dramatic,” Dr. E tsked under his tongue. With a wink, and a chortling, “I’ll be seeing you again, cutie. Real soon,” he disappeared.

  X sighed and peered deep into her eyes. “Sleep,” he said, and sighed.

  “But I’m not . . . tired.” Her eyes closed, and darkness swamped her mind. She knew nothing more.

  • • •

  In the ensuing days, Solo came to understand three very important facts.

  Vika was naturally seductive.

  She was instinctively alluring.

  She was a freaking incurable disease.

  She slept off and on, sometimes mumbling to herself about wrong turns and right turns and he swore he’d go on a no-mumbles diet as soon as this was over. It was just too adorable, and he’d reached his limit. And okay. Fine. It wasn’t just the mumbles that had reduced him to this state. Every time the monsters had attacked, he’d lain beside her to shield her. The warmth of her breath had caressed his skin. The sweetness of her scent had filled his nose. The beat of her heart had synced with his, making him feel as if they were one being.

  Everything had worked together to propel his need for her into a new stratosphere.

  Every time she stirred, he would rush to her side to give her food and water. She would eat, and he would eat, and he would start praying the monsters would return so that he had an excuse to cuddle her.

  He needed to get himself under control. Because, despite the raggedness of his need, he wasn’t going to let himself have her. He couldn’t. He’d thought about it and had come up with one hundred and two reasons why he had to avoid kissing her, tasting her, stripping her, stroking her, and having her—and the thousand other things he’d imagined doing to her.

  At the moment, though, he couldn’t recall a single one of his reasons.

  Well, no, that wasn’t exactly true. He could think of one. She might not want him the same way he wanted her. Yes, she had once kissed him, but that could have been out of curiosity. Yes, she had fed him extra food, but that could have sprung from the goodness of her heart, not romantic feelings for him.

  Now she would either feel obligated to him or hope to avoid upsetting him. S
he might let him do anything he wanted, but not out of passion.

  He wanted her passion or nothing.

  So, rather than plotting ways to romance her, he would be better served spending his time coming up with a new plan of escape. Yeah. That’s what he’d do. And maybe he would stop wanting, needing, craving, wishing, and hoping for what could never be.

  Eighteen

  Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come along.

  —SONG OF SOLOMON 2:10

  C OOL WATER DRIBBLED ON Vika’s lips and slid down her throat, and food soon followed. The actions dragged her out of the darkness and into the light. She blinked open her eyes.

  Though her vision was clouded, she was able to see Solo looming over her, a streak of blood under his eye.

  They really were together, she marveled.

  He was holding a bottle to her lips. She swallowed what he poured, never having tasted anything so magnificent, she was sure. She wanted to close her eyes and savor, but had no desire to look away from Solo.

  His dark hair was in utter disarray, the locks sticking out in spikes. He had his head down, his chin pressed into his sternum. His lashes were lowered, hiding the crystal clear blue of his eyes and fanning out as prettily as any peacock’s tail. She had noticed the aristocratic slope of his nose and the sharp cheekbones the day she’d bathed him, but she had missed the lush, pink lips women would have paid a fortune to acquire.

  He was rugged and capable and fearsome, and for just a second—or two—she wished she had told X she would do whatever was necessary to stay with Solo, that she would place her life in his hands and trust him to keep her safe. Now and always.

  Wait. X. Alloris. The Altilium, whatever that was. The dream that hadn’t really been a dream, she realized now. As much time as she’d spent in her head throughout the years, she knew the difference between fantasy and reality, and there was no confusing the two in the light of day. She really had talked to X and Dr. E, the Epoto. They really were out there, somewhere, and they knew Solo.