Being Emerald (27 page)

“Since then, huh?”

He smiled. “Since then.”

He advanced and retreated. The long slow strokes into her clasping core brought her close. His gaze never left her, and they connected, really connected, for the first time in many weeks. It was the most natural thing in the world to join with him again on so intimate a level.

“You are mine.” The advance of his penetration had been languid as he’d said the words.

“Yes.”

“When we’re apart, you are still mine.” He punctuated the statement with another surge into her.

“Yes,” she whispered as tears fell from the corner of her eyes into her hairline. But these were not tears of pain, they were an acknowledgement of the beautiful words she’d longed to hear for those weeks when she’d been so emotionally separated from him.

He dipped his head with the next thrust and kissed her eyes, kissed the wet trails left by her tears. “You will not doubt it.”

She met his gaze. “I won’t doubt it.”

He shoved into her and shifted his weight, grabbing a fistful of hair at the back of her head and baring her neck to him. “If you doubt, you’re defying me and denying the special connection we have.” He bit her neck, and then said, his moist lips still touching the tender spot. “Don’t fucking doubt me, ever.” He lifted his head. His eyes darkened, and his expression turned hard. “You dishonor what we have if you doubt. When you walk away from me tomorrow there will be no more of it left. Don’t let it return. Promise me.”

She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I promise.”

Rock tightened the grip on her hair and gave her the scary Rock stare he usually gave to other people. “Keep this promise, Laila. Neither of us will survive this if we’re not sure of each other.”

Without blinking, she returned his bottomless stare. “I promise you.”

“Good girl.”

She groaned at the increasing force of his penetration, expecting her demanding lover to return after the promise was made. But tonight, there were no bonds, no toys or demands, just them, giving every ounce of love they had to each other, with the subtle awareness this might be the last time.

Rock continued to pump slowly and maintained the connection of their gazes as he made tender love to her. His love, pure and powerful, was devastating.

Laila wrapped her arms around him and held on tight, lifting her ass into his thrusts. She was close, but she held off her orgasm, locking herself down until they could come together.

Then, with a growl, he wrapped a heavy arm underneath her and clutched her so close it took her breath away. He picked up his pace with deep, punishing thrusts. She held on, digging her nails into his back.

“Come with me, baby.” He wrapped his other arm around her, supporting himself on his knees and clutching her like a rag doll. With one final thrust upward, Laila let go, shouting his name and then wailing her pleasure.

They didn’t move for a long while after that. She couldn’t get any closer to a person than she was with Rock right then. Neither wanted the moment to end.

Laila fell asleep with Rock still inside her.

When she woke, he was gone. But she felt his eyes on her back as she got out of the little blue car and approached the gates of New Atlanta. It took all her strength to not turn around and run to him.

She focused on the movement she saw at the gates, and relief flooded her when she saw a familiar face. Garrett stood in his guard uniform, rifle in hand, but pointed at the ground.

His expression was grim as she stepped to within feet of him. “You shouldn’t have come back here,” he murmured before another guardsman stepped from the adjoining building and gripped her upper arm.

Laila sat on the edge of her bed in her isolation cell. When he returned to New Atlanta, Garret had reported he’d left them behind because Rock was sick. She’d been quarantined fourteen days to assure she wasn’t returning with the virus.

She stared at the same white wall that kept her company during the worst two weeks of her life. The total disconnect from the man she’d shared her entire world with was made more devastating by the utter lack of stimulation those white walls provided. She’d become dependent on feeling his constant companionship. The loss of it was absolute, leaving an aching hollow feeling in her chest.

The fourteen-day quarantine period was finished, and she looked forward to getting back to work. She stood as she heard the key in the outer lock, but the guardsman who was supposed to release her from her tiny prison handcuffed her instead. “What are you doing?”

“General Morgan’s orders, Miss Lewis.”

She was taken to an underground interrogation cell in the Peacekeeper’s Compound. Her panic exploded as the clang of the metal door closed her into one of the concrete cells, buried deep beneath the administration building. Morgan was a mole, keeping all his most important secrets underground. After some thought as to why she was there, her anxiety doubled. Journey must have been caught, because Garrett’s cover was obviously still intact and the only other person outside the Amber Zone who knew she worked for the Resistance was Journey. Rock would be devastated if he lost her to the Gov, too.

Keys jangled against the metal door. When it opened, Morgan himself walked through. He was dressed in his military uniform and he stood ramrod straight, his gaze roaming over her in a disconcertingly interested way.

He motioned to the table. “Sit.” He sat in the folding chair opposite to hers and placed a syringe on the table in front of him. He met her gaze pointedly. Cold dread slithered down her spine.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lewis.”

“Sir? I don’t understand what’s going on.”

He dismissed her statement with a wave of his hand.

“I’ve had two weeks to think about the conversation we’re about to have,” he said as his piercing blue eyes scanned her face, sizing her up. “As I mulled over scenarios and ideas, more questions rose to the surface.

“Did you know the day before you left on your mission there was an intruder in the building that holds our offices?”

Her thoughts shot to that day. The babies. He’d hit her right between the eyes with a curveball. This was not about the Resistance, or Rock, or why Black Guard Sydney Parr didn’t return from the mission.

He nodded as her understanding of why she was there took hold.

“We caught the man, so I wasn’t terribly worried about the breach. But the next afternoon, when I reviewed the video, do you know what I saw?”

Laila hung her head, not responding to his question.

Morgan sprang, grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head up with it. “I saw the man running away, the posted guardsmen pursuing him, and then a minute later, you, tip-toeing into a restricted area, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Laila blinked a few times in rapid succession while her brain quickly caught up. “Yes. I thought I heard babies crying when I was in the ladies room. Naturally, I tried to find where it was coming from. I wasn’t trying to…” Her voice quavered. “I mean…” She took a deep, calming breath and started again. “When I left my office, I merely needed to use the rest room. I wasn’t intentionally trying to”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“spy.”

The murderous feeling emanating from the General hit her in the face like a blast from a furnace. Yet, his expression was impassive, polite even. He picked up the syringe off the table and stood. “This is to assure me you’re telling the truth.” He leaned in closer, placed his lips close to her ear. “I’ve gotten quite good at this, but I still need you to hold still.” He stuck her with the needle and plunged the liquid into her vein.

Seconds later, warmth crept through her chest, up the sides of her neck and heated her cheeks. She took in a long, slow breath. Each muscle became lax simultaneously. Her jaw unhinged slightly as her shoulders drooped. Her next intake of air was even longer, slower than the one before.

“Let’s play a little game, Laila. What do you say?”

She blinked, lazily. “Okay.”

“I’m going to ask you a few questions. If you give me the right answers, I’ll let you live. If you give me the wrong answers, I’ll take pleasure in shooting you myself.”

He sat back in his chair, studying her for what seemed like several minutes before he spoke again. “How do you feel?”

She felt heavy. Her tongue was thick. The noticeably sluggish mechanics of her body mesmerized her. In sharp contrast, her heartbeat thumped boldly. Her hot, drug-laced blood screamed as it jetted through her veins and random thoughts pummeled her normally ordered mind.

“Do you like children, Miss Lewis?”

Sitting across from him like this, she had a difficult time keeping from staring at the results of the hideous wound Jordan had given him months earlier. Laila swallowed through her dry throat. “Yes.”

He beamed at her with his brilliant eyes and disfigured face. “They’re perfect, these children, beautiful, intelligent, all diamonds. Every one.”

She shook her head, confused. “Whose babies are they?”

“They’re mine.”

“All of them?”

He smiled. “There’s no law against fertilizing the eggs harvested from our Diamond women. I’m doing exactly what the egg harvests were meant for, increasing the number of genetically superior children in our population. Right now, we’re outnumbered. There are twice as many Ambers as the total population of the rest of the Zones combined.

“But my children, they’re Diamonds. The oldest of them are already five years old. A mere decade is all it will take for us to outnumber them. We already outthink them, but we need numbers, too.” He sat back into his chair, smiling brightly at her. “They’re all my biological children and under my complete control from the day they’re born. My sons and daughters will lead this country into the future.”

The full meaning of his revelation took hold. “Who carries these babies?”

He smiled, a sickening smirk. “It’s ironic really, because that aspect has gotten significantly easier since the Amber uprising and the standoff at the border. Now, since the women designated Amber can no longer cross the border and live in Circle City, like they’re supposed to, they have the choice of being put out of the city, or joining my Birthing Corps.” He waved his hand thoughtlessly. “But we can talk about my vision for this country’s future anytime. It’s not what I want to discuss with you today.” Morgan’s expression turned ice cold as he leaned toward her and caught her gaze. “So tell me, Miss Lewis, are you in the Resistance?”

Laila shook her head and then silently congratulated herself. That deception was easy. She smiled at him, and then quickly tried to reverse that expression because a tiny voice deep in the recesses of her brain shouted that smiling was a bad idea.

Morgan’s laser-like gaze drilled her. “Tell me exactly what happened to Sydney Parr.”

“I reported the truth the first time.” She paused and attempted to moisten her lips with her thick, dry tongue. “Her truck was attacked. I presume she was killed.” She took another long, slow breath in the utterly silent room when a stray thought flitted through her head. Her lips caught the words and spit them out. “I don’t see what’s so hard about this, why all those Resistance women gave up their friends.”

“You’re right, dear. We’re just having a conversation.”

She smiled at him, feeling like the victor in this game of cat and mouse.

“You know, Sydney didn’t like you very much.”

“I didn’t like her either.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Why not?”

“Because she wanted to be with Rock and considered my existence in his life a barrier to getting what she wanted.”

The General faltered, closing his mouth on the words he’d been poised to say. He seemed genuinely surprised to hear her say that.

“What, you thought your bend over the desk routine was enough for her?”

His ice blue eyes narrowed on her. The scar looked absolutely wicked as he scowled. “What did you just say?”

Laila’s feeling of victory over Morgan and his syringe dissipated when she repeated the words in her head. “I’m sorry, that was disrespectful,” she blurted out. Then in an attempt to divert his attention to a new topic, she babbled, “Let’s not talk about her. There are so many more important things to talk about other than Sydney Parr’s whore…” She paused mid-word, wondering what she was trying to say. “Whore…ness.” Looking down at her lap, she noticed the quick flutter of the blouse she wore due to her heart’s tremendous thumping underneath. She could not meet his gaze, knowing now she was not the cat. She was the mouse, and she was being herded into a very tight corner.

“Laila, look at me.”

She heard his words, but it took her several seconds to process them.

“Now!” he bellowed.

She flinched and lifted her gaze to meet his.

He stared at her for a pregnant moment. “Was Sydney having sex with Rock?”

“No.”

“Were you having sex with Rock?”

Giddy feelings teemed within her. Not able to help herself, a wide grin spread across her face. “No.”

“You’re smiling.”

“He loves me.”

Morgan frowned. “You said loves instead of loved. Is Rock still alive?”

Of their own accord, her guilty eyes darted away from the man sitting across from her. Then she realized without even answering his question, she’d blown it. “Did I say that?”

“Yes, you did.”

She simply was not a good enough liar for this. “I meant loved.”

“He left you here, didn’t he, Laila?”

She didn’t answer, choosing to cower from him instead.

“What a pathetic coward he was to leave New Atlanta without you.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Of course it’s like that. Where is he now, when you need him?”

Laila shook her head and ran her sweaty palms on the tops of her thighs.

“Can’t you see he made a laughingstock out of you?” He laughed at her and then leaned across the table so his face was the only thing she saw. “Oh, I’m sure he gave you some kind of line, like he’ll be back for you someday.”

Laila felt flustered and humiliation began to heat her face. “He loved me. I meant to say he loved me.”