Last Kiss Goodnight oa-1 Read online

  X, who clearly loved him.

  Dr. E, who clearly hated him.

  Did Solo know they were there? That X considered him “a charge”?

  Solo, who was so close she had only to reach out to touch him.

  So few people realized there was another world around them, just as real.

  “Hey, you,” she said.

  Only silence greeted her.

  Sharp disappointment cut through her. Her ears had stopped working, and that meant she wouldn’t be able to hear Solo’s voice, either. And oh, how she would have loved to hear him. He would have a low baritone, she would bet. Low and rumbling. Sexy.

  Solo glanced up, blinked in surprise. “You’re awake.”

  Again, silence.

  The disappointment intensified, but she easily beat it back. She was alive, and she was with the best man she’d ever met. What did she have to complain about?

  “I am.” She stretched her arms over her head, arched her back. The bones popped.

  Heat exploded in Solo’s eyes, the blue suddenly reminding her of living flames. The callused hand at her nape eased her to the ground. He moved away from her, taking his delicious body heat with him.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  Not as good as I did a few seconds ago. “Wonderful, thank you.” Better than she had in years. “But how . . .” She scanned her surroundings. She was inside his cage, the bars all around her. Beyond them stretched the vast expanse of the Nolands. Random fires blazed, ribbons of thick smoke wafted, and green and black insects buzzed in every direction, even swarming a tree that had dared to survive, its limbs budding with life—but quickly withering.

  Her father . . . he’d . . . he’d . . . caged her. The man responsible for her well-being, the man who professed to love her above all things, had placed her with one of his “animals” during a solar flare, leaving her vulnerable to the attack of the Nolanders.

  She should not have been surprised, but she was. He’d done many, many terrible things to her, but this . . . Grief pierced her, wounding her far more than Matas’s fist. Matas, who must have shown Jecis the video.

  She’d known her father was cruel, had known he enjoyed lording his power over her and everyone else. Had known he thrilled in punishing anyone who defied him, but . . . but, she was his little girl. His princess. His beloved.

  Well, this would make leaving the circus that much easier. If she was ever allowed outside the cage, she thought, fighting a wave of panic. Was she to be one of the sideshows now? Was this to be a life sentence?

  Was she to be treated as a lowly animal?

  Oh, sweet mercy. All these years, she’d done nothing to stop her father from locking up innocent people. People who had experienced these very emotions, but without any hope.

  She couldn’t free them while they still wore those cuffs, as she’d finally decided to do. She couldn’t allow Jecis to find them and bring them back. She had to stay, no matter the pain inflicted upon her, and she had to continue her search for the key.

  First, though, she would have to get out of the cage.

  Sorry, X, but I can’t pack up Solo and let him go just yet.

  Solo tapped her gently on the shoulder to gain her attention. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  For her. Her. One of his tormentors. After everything, he still desired to help her. “I . . . I . . .” Wanted to cry. Wanted to sob and beg for his forgiveness. “I’m so sorry. I know there’s nothing I can say—”

  “Vika,” he said.

  “—to make things better, but I’ll try. I will. You have my word. I won’t let him keep you—”

  “Vika.”

  “—locked up anymore than necessary. The moment I’m free, I’ll look for the key more intently.”

  He leaned down, getting in her face. “Vika!”

  She blinked up at him. “Yes?”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, settling back on his haunches.

  Confusion returned. He thought, what? That she was apologizing simply to keep him calm? Well, if that was the case, he wouldn’t believe a single word she uttered on the subject of freedom, would he?

  “Your father left a blanket for you. I let you use it as a pillow for a while, but when you began to heal, I took it and rigged it in the corner as a curtain. For privacy . . . when you need to use the chamber pot he also left. I think that’s what it’s called.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “O-okay. Thanks.” She shouldn’t be embarrassed. She actually deserved this. He and the others had had to endure that kind of violation since their capture.

  “Just so you know, I bathed you,” he said, “but I never removed your clothing and I never looked where I shouldn’t.”

  As she had done to him. The heat intensified.

  She looked herself over and saw that she was wearing the same clothes she’d worn to confront her father, the plain tee, and the flowing pants. At least she was comfortable.

  “Thank you, Solo. Really. For everything.”

  A stiff nod. “You’re welcome.”

  Her gaze swept over him. He still wore the loincloth, his big, beautiful body on display. His skin was a luminous bronze, each of his muscles so well defined they looked painted on.

  Breath caught in her throat. “So, uh, how long have we been here?”

  “Three days.”

  Three whole days. Fifty hours rather than seventy-two, for time was not the same here. During those fifty hours, Solo could have bound her. He hadn’t. He could have threatened to withhold medicine and food until she swore to aid him. He hadn’t. He could have fed her to the Nolanders to save himself. He hadn’t.

  I’m the monster in this relationship. “Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly.

  He blinked, frowned. “Why?”

  “You have blood on your face.”

  He reacted as if she’d slapped him, spinning to hide the fact that he was scrubbing his skin with a vigor that astonished her.

  “Let me,” she said, but he acted as if she hadn’t spoken. She sighed. “Did the monsters hurt you?”

  “You know about them?”

  “Yes. To keep them out of the trailers, Jecis had the windows removed, the walls reinforced with steel, and the doors padlocked.”

  “He should have put us inside your trailer, then,” he said, still wiping at his face.

  “And allow you to find and hide weapons to use on him later?”

  He popped his jaw. “Do you know of a safe place to hide outside the cage?”

  Hoping to bust out of here, was he, while there were no armed guards? “I don’t recommend fighting the Nolanders on their home baseball court. Now, will you stop doing that and let me help you?”

  He stilled. His hand fell to his side. Slowly he turned and met her gaze, his eyes so frosted over she shivered.

  Still, she held out her hand. “Rag.” He’d helped her. Now she would help him, even in so small a way. Despite the fact that he had scrubbed so hard he’d left a red welt on one side of his face, the blood remained.

  Reluctantly, he gave her what she wanted.

  “Lean down here.”

  Inch by inch he obeyed, a mask falling over his features.

  She gently wiped at the crimson streak. Her arm trembled, the action almost too much for an arm that hadn’t been used in three days, but still she persisted.

  “People play baseball on a field,” he rasped.

  “That’s what I said. Isn’t it?”

  “You said court.” Solo’s gaze never left her. He watched her every reaction, as if . . . what? As if he wanted to know her every emotion? Well, he would discover that she liked tending him and looking at him. Especially at his lips. Those beautiful, lush lips.

  Right now they were pink. When his appearance changed, they would turn as red as his skin. Would they still be as soft as she remembered? she wondered. As sweet?

  “You’re staring,” he pointed out, his voice tight.

  “Does that bo
ther you?”

  His tongue flicked out, swiped. “No.”

  To have that tongue in her mouth . . . to know what it was like to press her own against it . . . She shivered forcefully. “It did before. You threatened to kill me.”

  “That was before.”

  Before . . . what?

  “And I will never hurt you, Vika.” He reached out, his thumb tracing the seam of her mouth.

  At the moment of contact, her lips began to tingle. They parted of their own accord, and a heated, needy exhalation escaped her. “I know you won’t. Just like I will never hurt you.” She forced herself to finish cleaning him—before she did something they might both regret. “See? I’m harmless.”

  He didn’t pull back. He stared at her, the fire in his eyes intensifying. Finally, he leaned toward her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, “but I have to do this.”

  “What—”

  He kissed her, silencing her. His lips pressed against hers, lingering for one second, two, as though testing her reaction. Yes! This was what she’d wanted. And no wonder. It was magnificent, his lips softer than before. When she offered no protest, he lifted his head and studied her face. Whatever he saw, he must have liked, because he lowered a second time. His tongue flicked out, and she eagerly opened for him.

  Their tongues thrust together, and, oh, this kiss was so much better than the one before, when she had taken what she shouldn’t have. He went slowly at first, coaxing her, but she didn’t need coaxing. She needed more.

  Somehow, he understood what she couldn’t vocalize. He increased the pressure, the speed, and forced her head to tilt, giving himself deeper access, dominating her mouth, branding her soul-deep, consuming her. She loved every second of it, was engaged body and mind, swept up, lost. Happy to be lost.

  He was so hot, a fire against her skin. He was so necessary. Suddenly she couldn’t imagine trying to take a breath without him. He was here, and he was hers, and this was beautiful. A beautiful kiss from a beautiful man.

  His hand slid underneath her shoulders, angled up and cupped her nape. The rough texture of his skin delighted her, tickling her. He massaged the muscles there, drawing a groan of pleasure from her. Then his hand began to lower . . . stopping midway down her arm, kneading . . . angling again, this time toward her breast . . .

  Her aching breast. A place that had never been touched by another. She’d caught enough illicit acts in the shadows of the circus to know that once a man got his hands on a woman’s breasts, he couldn’t stop himself from taking more, all.

  Vika tensed, not sure she was ready for what “all” entailed.

  He must have been attuned to her every nuance, because he jerked backward, severing contact.

  As she fought for breath, her fingers sought her tingling lips. “Solo,” she said, wanting to call him back. She might not be ready for all, but that didn’t mean the kiss had to end.

  His hands fisted at his sides.

  Had she angered him? “I—I—” Had no idea what to say. How did you tell a man you wanted to kiss him, but you didn’t want to do anything else with him? Not yet, at least.

  “When are the monsters due to return?” she asked, changing the subject.

  He looked away from her. “A few hours. But don’t worry. You’ll stay right where you are, and I’ll lie beside you.”

  He’d done that every time before, hadn’t he? The idea of his weight pressing against her . . . didn’t frighten her, she realized. It delighted her, her blood bubbling and fizzing with warmth.

  Perhaps she was closer to wanting “all” than she’d realized.

  “They’ll be unable to reach us,” he added, “and I won’t have to touch you.”

  “I don’t mind—”

  “What is this place?” he interjected.

  Message received. Subject closed. Maybe that was for the best. “A world between worlds.”

  He frowned. “Explain . . . please.”

  Another rusty “please.” How could she resist? “Through his dark arts, my father learned how to move the circus from one city to another without ever having to take down or set up the tents and equipment or move the vehicles, and without ever having to take a step. Somehow he creates solar flares that open a portal from one location to another, but he has more trouble closing the flares, especially if we’re going a great distance, and sometimes we become trapped here.”

  His frown deepened. “I know inter-world travel is possible, and that’s how the otherworlders came to earth, but I didn’t know average citizens could open portals on their own.”

  “I doubt that they can. But then, my father isn’t exactly average, is he?”

  “Well, I need to know what he knows.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to mess with the dark arts.”

  Well, well. Good thing you listened to me, Dr. E said, his voice seeming to come out of nowhere. She couldn’t see him, but she could feeeeel him. There was a strange sort of crackle in the air, sparking against her skin. He’s about to try and talk you into spying for him.

  Had Solo heard the male?

  His expression remained the same: pensive. “If I asked you to find out what kind of spell he casts,” he said, watching her intently, “would you?”

  See? Told you!

  “No,” she answered honestly, ignoring Dr. E. She couldn’t blame Solo for wanting more information. “He invited evil into his life, and I’m not going to do the same to mine. Why do you want to know about the flares, anyway? To stop him?”

  Solo pondered for a moment, then once again waved a hand through the air. “What’s the longest you’ve ever been trapped in the Nolands?”

  So. He wanted her to endanger herself, but he didn’t want to tell her why. That, she could blame him for. “Six days,” she said a little snippily. “But guess what? We’re not done with the other topic. I could say yes, I’d try to find out how he does it, because I owe you and I always sometimes try to pay my debts.”

  “Always sometimes?” he interrupted.

  “Exactly. So, here’s a question for you. Would you prefer to have the info about the solar flares or the key to the cuffs?”

  Without any hesitation, he replied, “The key to the cuffs.”

  I could have guessed that one, Dr. E muttered.

  “Are you willing to give it to me when you find it?” Solo asked with the patient stillness of a predator. “Not just use it on me but give it to me.”

  “Of course,” she replied, and he blinked in bafflement. “If my father lets me out of the cage, I’ve already decided to increase my efforts and do whatever’s necessary to unearth its whereabouts.”

  “Vow it,” he rushed out. “Vow to free me, to remove the cuffs when you find the key, and place that key into my sole custody.”

  Him and his vows. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. But she noticed he’d said “when” and not “if.” Either he had more confidence in her than she did, or he simply refused to admit defeat in anything.

  Don’t do it, Dr. E pleaded.

  “So vowed,” she said, wanting to smirk. She kind of liked disobeying Dr. E.

  He cursed at her.

  Solo watched her intently, relief and suspicion in his eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Did anything strange happen to you?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Never mind.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell me something. Was your newest beating because of me?”

  “No,” she said, and that was the truth. Matas had hit her because she’d embarrassed him with her continued refusal of his romantic pursuit, choosing an “animal” over him.

  You should have blamed Solo. There was now a pout in Dr. E’s voice. He would have felt guilty and would have done anything you asked.

  “Will you just shut up already,” she snapped. “I’m sick of you.” She didn’t want anyone feeling guilty on her behalf. Guilt was a terrible thing, a consuming thing, and Solo had enough to worry about.

  The cr
ackle in the air instantly vanished.

  Solo scooted away from her. “I will do what you wish.”

  “Not you,” she said, sitting up to reach for him. She managed to wrap her fingers around his wrist. A wrist so big her fingers weren’t even close to touching. He was strong, amazingly so, and that should have scared her, would have scared her, until she’d woken up and discovered everything he’d done for her. “You are—” Dizziness had her swaying, moaning.

  Solo returned in an instant, pulling from her grip to cradle the back of her head. He eased her down, and she battled an urge to snuggle into the warmth of his body, to know she was safe and protected for once in her life and maybe even . . . cherished.

  He didn’t cherish her, though, did he. He liked kissing her, she was sure, and had wanted more, but sex had never been and would never be proof of someone’s affection.

  “You sat up too quickly, after lying down too long.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” she assured him. “Before, I mean.”

  “Then to whom were you talking?” He paused to shake his head, perhaps recalling the other time they’d had this conversation, when the question had been directed at him. “And why were you beaten? You never told me.”

  She licked her lips. “You once told me you talked to invisible men.”

  He sucked in a breath and moved away from her. “No, I didn’t say I did. Only that I might be.”

  Fine. “Do you believe there’s another world at work around us?”

  “Very much so.”

  Her eyes widened. He’d admitted that so easily, as if he had no fear of her reaction. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me too.”

  “And?”

  “And, I . . . was talking to someone in that realm,” she said, and waited for him to admit to knowing Dr. E and X.

  A minute passed.

  Another.

  “So, why were you beaten?” he finally prompted, no hint of his emotions revealed.

  Maybe he didn’t know the pair kept tabs on him. If not, she didn’t want to be the one to tell him. “Matas is twisted, warped, and on a power trip. That’s why.”

  Solo reached out to smooth the hair from her brow. He caught himself just before contact and dropped his arm to his side. “I know you aren’t a fan of violence, but when you were delivered to me I broke his arm in a way that it can never be put back together. He won’t be hitting you again.”