Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite) (16 page)

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“There’s a bunch of rocks and sticks and shit under here.” She climbed out and dragged her bag a distance, then climbed in and wriggled and rolled and huffed some more.

“Want me to round up some deadfall for padding?”

“Forget it. I’ll be fine,” she grumbled, shifting around. It looked like she was kickboxing with something in there.

Meanwhile, the wind whistled through the pines and he could hear frogs at the creek. The shriek of a small animal was cut short.

“What was that?” Rena jerked up.

“Somebody’s dinner. A rabbit nabbed by a fox or a mountain lion.”

“A mountain lion? Will it come here? Attack us?”

“Don’t tell me Astra’s scared of a few woodland creatures?”

“Oh, shut up,” she said. “I don’t know how anyone sleeps with all this rustling and hooting and death rattling going on. Plus, I’m freezing.”

“It’s toasty in here.” He lifted the corner of his bag. “Safer, too.”

“Forget it,” she said, rolling over. She was prickly and full of pride, and he found himself grinning.

An owl hooted and Rena gasped, then burst out of her bag, coming over to crouch beside him. “Move over,” she said, wriggling in with him, her jeans-clad legs tangling with his own. She smelled so good.

They’d have more room if he zipped their bags together—she had to feel his hard-on against her belly—but he just pulled her onto his chest and smiled up at the spread of stars over her shoulder, millions of diamonds on miles of black velvet.

Beth might be watching the same sky. He hoped she was safe and not afraid. Rena, meanwhile, was a knot of nerves. “Look at the stars,” he said. “Astra’s sisters and brothers in the sky.”

…

To appease Gage, Rena rolled onto her back. It was better than lying there shivering like a baby, but it didn’t help. The sky went on forever. The stars were sharp chips of broken glass in the cold, endless black. No mercy there. No hope.

“Do you know the constellations?” he asked, sounding sleepy. God, she hoped he’d stay awake until she dropped off. If she even could sleep out here in the middle of all this animal life and death.

“Not really, no.” Who gave a shit about a dot-to-dot in the sky? She was already afraid of the dark, but being out here in the wild, open to attack, scared the piss out of her. Animals rustled everywhere. She hated feeling like a coward. Worse, she didn’t like that Gage knew.

He was being kind, trying to help, and he had a massive erection. If only she could relax enough to feel sexual. “See Orion the hunter?” He pointed over the trees. “That diagonal of stars is his sword. Above it is his belt. See it?”

“I guess.” She squinted. Yeah. She could see that. So?

“You know the story?” When she shook her head, he explained how Orion had been Artemis’s lover, how she shot him, after which he was stung by a scorpion, then flung into the sky. Gage named more streaks of stars—Taurus the bull, Cetus the fish. Andromeda—Cassie’s avatar—and the mother of earth.

Gage’s words painted pictures in her mind. The flecks of glass chips shaped themselves into people fighting, loving, weeping, winning, and losing. “What about Astra? Where is she?” she asked.

“Maybe that’s her. Straight up from the far pine tree.” He pointed.

She nodded, liking the rumble of Gage’s voice, the human smell of him. She realized she didn’t usually lie around in a guy’s arms. It was sex and then go. She felt warm and pleasant…relaxed…and… Gage’s thigh rested between her legs, so she moved against him, just as an experiment.

Mmm. That felt good. She felt a charge that seemed to override her nervousness. That was a relief. Gage stilled, waiting for her next move. There was no good reason to have repeat sex and she was Gage’s Mentor, but she needed to escape the wild dark, the lurking predators, and the hopelessly huge sky above.

She’d been through so many changes in the last few days that at times she could hardly think or breathe. There was pressure to get money, to do good with the Dome, to be worthy of Naomi and Nigel’s faith in her, to be the vanguard of Girl Power, to make progress with her project—task after task balling up in her mind.

Meanwhile, here was this warm and ready man in this cozy bag. Blocking all doubts, she rolled on top of Gage and pressed her lips to his.

He stilled, then gently pushed her up to look at her face. “You sure?” His rough voice and the tension in his arms made her think that if she said no, he’d have trouble stopping. When she nodded, he pushed under her top to cup her breasts, groaning with relief and need.

Yes. Good. Oh.
Partly it was the buildup, the sexual sludge that had accumulated since their first go. Same thing happened with a stale Dorito after twelve straight hours in the lab. It tasted like caviar.

Now there were too many clothes between her and that caviar. She stretched up her arms so he could take off her shirt, then went after his zipper. They shoved off the rest, elbows and knees colliding in the cramped space, kicking the wads of denim and jersey to the bottom of the bag, tangling their legs.

Side by side was the only useful way to screw in the tight space, and Rena was so juiced up that Gage slid into her as easily as a deep breath and just as welcome. “You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, too breathless to speak. She felt open and a little exposed, but not nervous any more.

Gage began to thrust in and out. She met him in a delicious rhythm. When he pulled out she ached for his return and when he pushed in she groaned with sweet relief. They rocked and rocked and rocked. She wanted it to go on forever.

After a while, it dawned on her that Gage might be holding back, waiting for her to come, so she reached down to bring herself off.

Gage stopped her hand and shifted his shaft so it rubbed her in quick circles. She gasped, electrified. This was really, really good. Perfect.
Oh.

Before she knew it, before she could get control, she shot off, flying free, crying out into the open darkness. It was almost more than she could stand.

Gage shuddered and gave out, too, and they held each other, face-to-face, breathing hard, chests moving in and out as one. He cupped her face and looked at her. She didn’t know what to do with her eyes, her hands, her body. Emotions flew between them, tangling like their legs.

It was too much. She had to stop, like putting her foot to the floor to keep the room from spinning when she used to get drunk.

Gage smiled. “You see God again?”

“I don’t know what I saw, but it was good.” She couldn’t even pretend otherwise, even if that would be smarter.

“You warm enough?” He held her tightly against him, as if to warm her up, but the bag was steamy with heat and it smelled of skin, of sex, of Gage and the green of outdoors.

“I’m warm. I’m fine. I feel…like I’m dreaming.” Gage’s hair seemed to blend with the immense blackness around them, like pixels about to be erased by a screen refresh. That frightened her a little. To be sure of him, she wiggled her feet against his, shifted her hips, ran her hands down his back.

“Something the matter?” he asked. “You’re wiggling.”

“It’s just weird being out here at night with no protection.” She hated how silly that sounded.

“Any predator would have to chew through me first.” He held her even tighter, wrapping her up in his arms. “You’re safe with me.”

And she believed him. She really did. She felt as though she could rest her weight, not have to fight and focus and guard her thoughts.

“So your parents never took you camping?”

“My parents? Are you kidding?” She laughed, picturing first her hooker mother, then tech weenie Bingham out in the woods. Or Tiffany, the trophy wife, if she’d stuck around. In the photos, the woman looked flawless.

“What’s the deal?”

In the dark, in the cocoon of the sleeping bag, safe in Gage’s arms, feeling not herself at all, she told him. “I was adopted. The woman who drew that picture of me you saw? Her name was Tiffany. She was my adoptive mother. The way it worked was she wanted a baby so my father bought her one. Me.”

“That’s an odd way to put it.”

“Not really. Motherhood was a hobby, too. She got bored and took off with her personal trainer.” She managed a laugh.

Gage didn’t laugh back. “What about your father? Weren’t you close?”

“He was busy with his business. He rarely saw me. I hung with the help—the nice ones anyway. My favorite was our driver. Riley was his name. He took me to dance lessons and whatnot. He taught me how to whistle.” She put her fingers to her lips.

“No thanks. I’ve heard that already.”

She laughed. “Anyway, Riley always smelled like baskets. Weed, I figured out later. He would nod off at stoplights, so I had to stay alert if I wanted to get to class.
It’s green, Riley, go, go, go.
” She laughed again. “He ran lots of errands, so I guess he was dealing, too.”

“Sounds kind of hairy for a kid.”

“I was happy enough. Then, when I was eleven, Riley got fired for borrowing the limo for his errands. I missed him like crazy.” She’d been heartbroken. After that came her uncle and things got so much worse.

“Did you ever try to talk to your father?”

“No point really, and it turned out fine. I learned to count on myself. We all have to do that.” Bingham’s neglect was a gift. In a way, so was her uncle’s assault. It had led her to Lara Croft and her courage.

Gage was watching her too closely.

“For God’s sake, quit staring at me like that. I found the Life, so it’s all good. What’s your story? You said your mother was a junkie, right?”

“They gave her pain meds after she got beaten up by a boyfriend. After that she was either out of it or mean as hell. She died a couple years back.”

“Were you an only child?”

“I have a sister. We lost touch.” He clearly didn’t want to say more.

“It happens,” she said, relaxing into him. “My birth mom was an alcoholic and a hooker. A social worker found out for me.”

“You met her?”

“She died when I was five. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d met her.” She’d felt so empty at the time, she’d hoped the story would fill her up. It hadn’t.

“You’d have asked her why she gave you up, for one.”

“I figure I cried too much or was too ugly or got sick a lot.”

“Or maybe she wanted a better life for you than she could give you.”

“That’s the fable they tell all adopted kids.”

“Maybe it’s true. Where’s the harm in believing it?”

“I don’t know.” Oddly enough, she felt a twist of deep-down hurt loosen and let go. “Maybe I’ll start thinking that.” Where
was
the harm? It had never occurred to her not to assume the worst. Hmm.

Gage was stroking her face now, as if to soothe her, and it felt so good she didn’t stop him. His fingers snagged on the small scar at her scalp line. “What’s this from?”

“A fight when I was little.” She’d hit her head on the corner of her uncle’s desk after she kicked him.

“I bet you didn’t cry when they stitched you up.”

“You got that right.”

“You’re pretty tough. For a girl.”

She pretended to punch him.

“Okay. You’re tough as nails.” He paused. “But you’re not too thrilled about the dark.” She stilled. “It’s no big thing. My sister got nervous at night. It means you have a good imagination.”

“That sounds like bullshit, but I’ll take it.” Gage knew some of her secrets, but she had the feeling he didn’t find her weak because of them. “So you had a sister? I always wanted one.”

“Someone like Lara Croft?”

“Exactly. Older and totally kick-ass. Lara Croft helped me through a rough time.”

“Yeah?” He was inviting the story, but she couldn’t tell it. Not yet.

“Games were a good place to hide when I was a kid,” he said. “They kept me from worrying about my mom.”

“We’re lucky that way. We found games, we found the Life, and it’s all… good…” She sighed. Her body felt limp and her mind went fuzzy. She was drifting to sleep, after all. Maybe animals would kill them in the night, but at the moment she felt almost as safe as she did in her Quarters in the Lounge.

…

Gage awoke to Rena moving against him, shifting him inside her. As if in a dream, they had wordless sex, urgent as two animals in the night. Seconds afterward, she softened and her breath deepened in sleep.

When he awoke, it was to birdsong and the chill of a gray dawn. Rena’s legs were tangled with his, her hip dug into his side, and she was choking him with her forearm. He shifted her body enough so he could breathe freely.

Rena’s eyes flew open and she looked wildly around. “We’re still alive.”

He chuckled. “No wonder the sex was so good. You thought it was your last.” He kissed her, but she kept it short, burrowing into the bag for her clothes. Jerking around, she kneed him in the groin.

“Easy there. You’ll need that equipment later.”

“Sorry.” She blushed pink again. Her face was soft from sleep, her eyes a pretty fog, her hair mussed, and there was a crease on her cheek he wanted to kiss away, but didn’t dare take the time.

Once they’d dressed, he heated water for instant coffee while she rolled up the bags. Declining his offer of coffee, she opted for Electrique. He noticed that her hands were shaking as she cracked the top. “Not to piss you off, but people don’t usually tremble before they get their coffee in the morning.”

“Would you leave it alone?” But she studied the can, reading its label, thinking about it.

Soon they were ready to take off. Before she climbed on behind him, Rena stopped and stood in front of him, serious and grim. “Last night was a time-out. Now we’re back to normal.” Her eyes lingered on him, and her frown was as soft as her lips.

“Got it. Back to normal.” But things had changed and they both knew it. He’d liked holding her in his arms, telling her stories. Making love to her had felt easy and right. He was glad he’d met her. Once he made sure Beth was okay, he’d do what he could for Rena, too. He’d like to chase away the bogeyman from her closet, show her it was just shapes and shadows, nothing to hurt her. Maybe when Beth was safe, he’d do just that.