Forever (11 page)

“Then you must be crazy yourself. And who wants to admit that to themselves? Who wants to face the prospect that they might not be as in control of their own lives as they thought they were.”

“Yes,” she said softly. She looked back into his eyes, the sea-foam color of them so clear and sharp. And that was when she realized that he was so obviously
more
than Jackson Waverly had been. Jackson had been handsome and vital, dedicated and loyal, devoted to his work and those whose lives he held in his hands every day. She had always considered him to be intelligent, but not in an existential way. The man standing before her was everything Jackson was … and so much more. After Chico’s death he had been growing increasingly less patient, his bitterness taking its toll on him. But she realized that for the pas he scrubbed a

Jackson was looking down into her face when he saw understanding blossom into her features and eyes like a drop of ink released into crystal clear water. It was understanding and, more important, it was acceptance. He knew that because her other hand lifted to touch his arm at the biceps, and for the first time she wasn’t trying to press her body and everything else away from him. He knew she wasn’t going to completely grasp all of what he had told her for some time, but at least she was now receptive to the information.

As for himself, he was more than a little confused by his own actions. True, he was only just learning about the power that Menes commanded, and of course there had been no way of preventing her from witnessing him in action. They both would have been dead if he had not shown his hand. But what baffled Jackson was why Menes had gone out of his way to make a show of protecting Marissa. He had said himself that those actions were like putting a bull’s-eye on her.

So why had he made it so obvious? And it
had
been Menes in control at that moment. Jackson’s first lesson in being host to a being as powerful as Menes was to learn when to step back and let the expert take charge of the moment, just as Menes did when in an element
only Jackson could manage because of familiarity and experience. It was the more mundane things in life that found them more perfectly blended, and Menes assured him that would only grow and spread over time as they both continued to experience life and each other. But in spite of this Blending being supposedly finished, Jackson felt there was still much of Menes’s mind that he simply could not access, whereas he felt the reverse was much less true. It was a strange thing, this feeling like he couldn’t trust himself entirely.

Stranger still was the way he felt being near Marissa like this. It was as though all of his senses had gone into hyperdrive. The smell of her, something musky yet sweet at the same time, had him wanting to inhale deeper and deeper with each successive breath. He even lowered his head, trying to surreptitiously smell the floral shampoo she used in her hair. What was more, he couldn’t keep himself from touching her, his hands still cradling her face, his thumb running obsessively over her lips. She had the fullest mouth he’d seen on a woman, other than Angelina Jolie. It begged for exploration, for experimentation. His mouth began to ache with the need to kiss her, his heart hurting in his chest as he resisted the urge. She was disturbed enough without having to fight off his advances.

Let go
, he told himself fiercely.
Just let her go!

“Marissa,” he said breathily.
I’m going to kiss you
. “I think it would be wise to find me some clothes.”

“Oh,” she said softly, seemingly caught up in the same craving that he was.

She wants it, into her facem“If you Jackson. Just kiss her. Kiss that delectable mouth and taste her
.

Jackson stepped back, forcing himself to let go of her. He turned his back to her, closing his eyes as he clenched a fist against the desire riding him hard. It wouldn’t be the first time he got hard from craving Dr. Marissa Anderson.
But it would damn well be the first time she would know about it because, being completely nude, he couldn’t conceal the result of his lust for her.

“Go. Out of these woods and to my car. I have a gym bag in the trunk,” he said, keeping his back to her as he pressed hard palms against the wall, trying to erase the feel of her from his hands. “No one should stop you, but if they do just tell them the bag has supplies for taking care of Sargent.”

“O-oh okay,” she said. “I … I thought you said I wouldn’t be safe without you,” she hedged nervously. He glanced over his shoulder at her, turning only just as far as he dared.

“It will take time for the Gargoyle to make it back to his masters. Just do this quickly. I’ll follow behind you and meet you in the woods once you’re clear of witnesses.”

He was so grateful when she nodded in agreement and moved toward the cave entrance that he thought he could cry with relief. He watched her push through the brush guarding the place, and then she was gone. He exhaled hard, finally turning around and leaning his back against the cold surface of the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded of himself.

Being human
, Menes, his new conscience answered.
There is nothing shameful about craving a thing of beauty
.

“I thought you were a one-woman man,” he muttered petulantly.

My woman
 … There was a distinct hesitation and Jackson felt as though there was an omission taking place … 
My woman is not here as yet. When she arrives you will know it without a doubt. You will feel the power of what I feel. In the meantime … there is no betrayal if you have desires counter to my own
.

But Jackson found the idea settling ill within him. He wasn’t about to make advances toward Marissa when he knew there would be no future in it. Marissa Anderson was a forever kind of woman. She didn’t strike him as the type to have casual sex just for the sake of scratching an itch. She would be looking for more. More than what he could give her.

No. Marissa was off-limits. And the sooner he reconciled himself to that the better off he would be.

And on that thought he left the cave, following behind her.

Marissa broke free of the tree line and hurried directly for Jackson’s vehicle. Luckily she had seen him use the concealed trunk release earlier when he had gotten water for Sargent. She reached into the car and engaged the release. When she straightened and turned, it was all she could do not to scream when she nearly ran into Captain Avery Landon, Jackson’s boss.

“What are you doing? You’re not allowed in the front of an official vehicle, Dr. Anderson, without an officer. And there are weapons in the trunk.” Langdon reached back and put a hand on the trunk lid, slamming it down into place again.

After all she had been through in the past half hour, it was the straw that broke every single ounce something else entirely. and the lof self-control she had. She rounded on the captain with a fury.

“Of course I know there are weapons in the trunk!” she spat out. “And I also know that I don’t belong in the front of this car without permission. But did it ever occur to you, you pompous jackass, that I was sent here to retrieve something for Officer Waverly? He’s in the field with his K-9. And I know you know how dedicated he and that damn dog are. Too dedicated to take a break and fetch the supplies they need to keep hydrated and their energy up!” She reached back into the car and
snapped the lock release again. “Jackson sent me for his supplies, and I damn well am going to bring them to him. Now back off and stop getting in the way of his work. Christ, you’re your own worse enemy, Captain,” she ground out at him as she pushed past him and looked into the trunk. “You’re so busy trying to tighten your control freak noose around everyone’s throat that you don’t even realize what a hindrance you are to these men and women beneath you.” She found the bag and snatched it up. She reached to slam the trunk closed, putting so much force into it that the patrol car rocked. “These are good cops, Captain Landon. If anyone would know that, it would be me. And I’m telling you what they can’t, that you need to back the fuck off!”

With that she pushed her way past the flabbergasted captain and stepped toward the woods. Only there was a phalanx of officers standing in her way, the group having gathered, obviously, when they had begun to overhear her tirade. She faced them, her entire body flushing hot with embarrassment because she knew damn well how unprofessional she had been. But she would worry about the consequences of that later. She had more important worries on her mind at the moment. But just as she was about to bulldoze her way past everyone, one of the officers began to clap his hands together. Like wildfire it spread, until she was facing a platoon of applause. She winced, picturing in her mind exactly how furious the captain behind her would be because he was head to toe a classic narcissist who defined himself by the value of his position and his job. He would not appreciate anything that undermined that. He just wasn’t the sort to see the errors of his ways.

Odds were, she would be fired by the end of the week.

She pushed free of her admirers and ran for the woods. Avery Landon was a worry for another day. Right now she had to bring clothes to a naked man. As
she struggled through the bracken to get deeper into the woods and farther away from potential witnesses, she suddenly heard the snapping of branches and Sargent bounded out of the brush, barking happily at her arrival. She moved quicker at the sight of him, headed in the direction he’d come from. Suddenly a hand grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to a stop. She was such a jumble of high-strung nerves that she shouted out in surprise.

“Easy,” he soothed, reaching to take the gym bag from her tightly clutched fingers. “Is everything all right?”

No. Nothing is all right
, she thought. “It was fine. Nothing of note happened.”

“Damn, that’s unnerving. There are weapons in that trunk.”

“Yes. I kind of figured that out,” she muttered.

He unzipped the bag, and after withdrawing a uniform let it drop to the ground.

“You carry a second uniform to work?” she asked, surprised that it wasn’t street clothing. On her way back she’d been wondering hem;
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div.toc_vg.ow he was going to explain his missing uniform.

“We all do, if we’re smart. I can’t even tell you how often I’ve had a drunk puke on me.”

“Oh I see.”

Yeah she did see. She watched, unable to even give him the courtesy of turning her back to him, as he stepped into his pants and drew them up over extraordinarily defined calf and thigh muscles. Apparently undershorts weren’t a part of his backup bag because he zipped himself in with caution, going utterly commando. Marissa ignored the part of her brain that pouted heavily as he hid all that tanned, glorious strength. He quickly drew on an undershirt and then
his uniform shirt, taking the unimpeded beauty of powerful biceps and shoulders away from her.

More internal pouting.
Damn him
, she thought a bit grouchily. How was it that she constantly felt like she was being pushed and pulled at the same time whenever she was around him? It wasn’t as though she’d never seen a beautiful, lean, muscled, deliciously male person before.

Marissa went hot and wet in one second flat and she forced herself to turn away, lecturing herself for being so weak and so damn pathetic. Okay, sure it had been a long, long, looong time since she’d gone to bed with a man, but she’d somehow managed to keep from panting over just any man in sight for all that time. Or any man at all for that matter, she amended.

He’s a patient
, she reminded herself fiercely. An alien patient from some sort of cosmic lab experiment. It was all she could do to keep from biting at her lip, shifting her weight, or chewing her damn nails off, she realized with no little irritability. She had worked so hard to eradicate all of those kinds of fidgets and tells. It was so important to her to demonstrate the level of competency and professionalism she needed in order to work with these alpha men and women. All it took was a single impression of weakness and any chance of them respecting and trusting her strength and guidance would crash and burn. Some of them even went for her throat, casting her as the villain who was trying to rob them of the job they depended on for self-definition and self-worth. She had to hold on to her competence even more now that she was faced with this potentially paralyzing situation. She was, she knew instinctively, going to need every moment of calm and strength she could muster up in order to cope with this unbelievable turn of events.

“S-so … you have a, um, dead pharaoh living inside
of you?” she asked, looking for a more focused explanation of what he’d been telling her. Bodywalker 101 for dummies … or at the very least a completely dumbfounded doctor who’d always thought the planet housed only one kind of humanoid species. Now she’d been exposed to at least two others and was struggling to make herself accept it. “And that other creature … the thing made of stone …”

“A Gargoyle. Gargoyles are … well, the gist of the story is that the Templars used their spell-casting abilities to create the Gargoyle race in order to have powerful protectors and servants.”