Irregulars: Stories by Nicole Kimberling, Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale and Astrid Amara (46 page)

“Yeah...well, no problem.” August still scowled at Deven’s back.

Deven took a bite. The fruit’s sweetness and watery, crispy texture shocked him. He realized the watermelon had been the first gift he’d been given in the human world since his mother died and felt a sudden, overwhelming rise in temperature as he flushed with happiness. Even with bloody rakes in his back, obsidian shards in his hair, and a renegade Aztaw lord to stalk, someone had voluntarily given him a gift and that, at least, was worth sticking around for.

August’s expression was somber, almost haunted, as he took in the marks on Deven’s back. Deven polished off his watermelon in four quick bites, then grabbed hold of August’s hand. “Come on, let’s get Night Axe before he kills anyone else.”

August squeezed his hand and, for once, followed Deven.

Chapter Fifteen

It was nearly dark by the time Director Alonsa assembled her raiding party, so Deven suggested they reconvene at dawn, when daylight would weaken Night Axe’s wards. Some quiet exchange occurred between Alonsa and August, and she agreed that August could continue another day.

August and Deven returned to the safe house. Deven slept little, his body already charged with the adrenaline rush of impending conflict.

The house was quiet at the early hour, with only the security system humming in the background. Deven showered and dressed, and when he emerged from his room, one of the guards informed him that Director Alonsa had phoned and was on her way to pick them up.

Deven made his way down the hall to August’s bedroom. He knocked, but there was no answer. “Agent August?” he called. He received no response.

Fear seized him. He rushed through the door but exhaled in relief when he saw August had merely slept late again, face as pale as the bedsheets on which he slept.

He appeared to be deep in slumber, but he didn’t look peaceful. He twitched and jerked in his sleep, hands drifting unconsciously to his chest and the connection that linked him to Carlos’s killer.

Deven sat at the edge of the bed and gave in to his urge to run his hand through August’s dark curls. He’d never seen such a thick, chaotic, beautiful head of hair before. It was wild and almost childlike in its resistance to order.

August’s eyes slowly opened as Deven stroked his fingers along his scalp. August appeared confused for a moment, but then the confusion disappeared and he simply stared into Deven’s eyes.

Desire, sharp as an electric charge, sparked through Deven. His breathing hurt. He stared back, heart racing, terrified and elated and unsure what to do next.

August seemed to be waiting for something. He froze, unmoving, as Deven continued to stroke his hair. His lips parted and he took in a hitching breath.

The sight of his soft, wide lips was too much to resist and Deven leaned down closer. His heart hammered in his chest. He still feared he had misread the agent, up until August closed the distance between them and kissed him.

Deven gasped and opened his mouth and August plunged his tongue inside. The feeling was like a shock, pleasure bolting down the nerves of his spine, pooling in his groin. Hot pulses of desire flooded him and he opened his mouth wider, pushing his tongue back into August’s mouth.

Who would imagine such a strange, wet, and slick sensation could be so intoxicating? August tasted like toothpaste and sleep. He wrapped his arms around Deven and pulled him down, flush against his body. Despite the thrusting urgency of his groin, August’s touch was surprisingly gentle.

But the moment Deven’s hard cock rubbed through his pants against August’s a flare of need dismantled all other thoughts and he began gracelessly rubbing against him. Their kiss intensified, mimicking the pulsing of their hips, August’s hands deftly moving to Deven’s belt, unbuckling it without looking.

Deven had been nervous when touched the first time by Christopher, but he wasn’t anxious now. The slow, simmering arousal that had built all week burned through any fear. He brazenly ran his hands down August’s slender body, stroking the contours of his hips, drawn to the hard heat between them.

August pulled Deven’s trousers and underwear down and quickly divested his own. His long, slender fingers grasped hold of Deven’s cock and Deven shuddered, his body blazing with a solitary, driving need—to be inside August, to fill him.

Their fingers intertwined as they grabbed hold of each other, rubbing for delicious friction as their mouths met once more.

He was drowning, drowning. He heard August gasp for air and he pulled back, worried he was too forceful, given August’s injuries. But August seemed oblivious to his own body’s torments—he pumped both of them together in a palm slickened with their mingled pre-ejaculate.

“Yes,” August mumbled against Deven’s lips. “Yes, yes, yes.” He kissed him once more and then turned, writhing out from under Deven to bend down and pull Deven’s cock into his mouth.

It felt like the place where craving and satisfaction met, a slick, hot enveloping world summoning him deeper, and Deven arched himself into August’s mouth, delirious with gratification. Nothing had ever felt like this and he knew he was completely lost now—only this would ever inspire him.

He glanced down at the site of August’s sweat-kinked hair, his lips drawn taut around Deven’s flesh, and Deven shuddered and came, muffling his cry by clenching his jaw shut.

He lay there, panting, recovering from what surely was some form of magic. August lay half on top of him, hot breath grazing Deven’s hip bone as he pumped himself in his own fist.

Curiosity and affection emboldened Deven, and he forced his heavy, sated body to turn so he could return the gesture as he assumed would be appropriate.

August watched with a fragile expression, both wary and hopeful. Deven had no idea what he was doing, but this wasn’t hard science either. It was easy to swallow flesh, to respond to the look of surprise and desire that transformed August’s face, to go faster when August’s fingers rubbed a rhythm into Deven’s hair, to pull him deeper and see how far he could go.

August suddenly jerked and his hot release filled Deven’s mouth. When Deven swallowed, he thought it tasted bitter and earthy, and it grounded him, here in this world and in this moment, so much that he smiled with relief.

Deven sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. August stared, almost agape.

“Christ, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” He pulled Deven in for a sloppy kiss.

“Time to go!”

Both men jerked at the intruding loud knock against the door.

“Director’s outside!” the guard shouted.

“We hear you!” August cried back, reluctantly letting go of Deven. His hands shook and his hair was mussed. His cheeks showed a little color and his lips were finally back to the red Deven had first noticed, swollen from their kisses.

Deven touched his own lips, swollen from August’s cock and raw from August’s short stubble.

“God damn it!” August said, shaking his head. He steadied his hand on Deven’s shoulder as he sat up. “I can’t believe I slept in again.”

Deven’s heart raced. The last thing he wanted to do was leave that bed. “You needed the sleep,” Deven said, surprised by the huskiness of his voice.

“I needed what we just did more.” August offered Deven a crooked smile. He found his underwear and winced as he pulled the fabric over his wilting erection. August glanced at him with a sweet expression. “You okay?”

“Sure.” Deven felt out of breath. He wasn’t sure how to describe his feelings. Elation? Fear? Anticipation of next time? A little of everything.

August leaned down and kissed Deven once more, briefly, then clambered out of bed.

“Need help getting ready?” Deven offered.

“Yeah, want to dress me?”

“I prefer the opposite,” Deven said, feeling his ears flush red.

August laughed. “Nice to see you’re getting the hang of flirtatious banter. Klakow’s going to lose his mind.” With impressive speed given his weak state, August changed into a dark blue shirt and black suit, mumbling about alarms all the while.

Deven dressed quickly as well, smoothing the palms of his hands over his trousers, anxious some trace of what they’d just done lingered on the carelessly tossed fabric. But August didn’t seem to be worried so Deven reassured himself that this was all okay.

Besides, more pressing, and dangerous, matters awaited them out in the predawn gloom.

Parked outside the safe house was a long white van with a gas company logo stenciled on the outside. Inside sat nearly a dozen Irregulars agents, crowded on seats and on top of boxes of what looked to be ammunition and computer equipment. Everyone other than Director Alonsa in the front seat was dressed in identical blue overalls with the same gas company logo above the breast. But underneath those overalls Deven saw the width of bulletproof vests and didn’t miss the noticeable bulges in their pockets. Judging by the number of objects dangling disguised in black pouches from their utility belts, they were well armed. The firepower and sheer number in the operation relieved him but irrationally left him angry. Where the hell had they been when he was pawned off by a lunatic diplomat? He’d spent years imagining rescue from topside agents dressed in fatigues swooping in to carry Deven back to safety.

But they’d never arrived and he’d learned a valuable lesson: never again to rely on anyone else to save him. So while he was grateful for the additional eyes and weapons, he kept his knives close since they were all he really put his faith in.

He pulled on a spare pair of overalls and transferred his knives, obsidian mirror, Fight Arm’s necklace, and his jaguar skin into the large pockets, where they’d be easy to reach, as August more slowly pulled on his own overalls.

Director Alonsa made introductions as Deven and August dressed. Deven recognized Agents Ortega, Zardo, and Klakow, but the rest of the names flashed by too quickly for Deven to learn them. The only name he caught was a woman called Dr. Ruth Hansing, who’d flown in from DC the night before to take Dr. Ramos’s place as the medical advisor for the mission.

“I have liquid cyanide here,” she told August, holding out a small vial of yellow fluid, capped with a plastic top. “Drink it all. You’re going to have trouble breathing and experience seizures before you drop into unconsciousness.”

“Great.” August took the vial and pocketed it in his overalls.

“The antidote comes in three parts,” Dr. Hansing said, holding a syringe. “I’m going to have to give you amyl nitrite, sodium nitrite, and sodium thiosulfate in rapid succession as soon as the poison has taken effect, so stay close to me for the duration of the raid. If something happens to me, Agent Ortega has a full antidote kit as well.”

August nodded. The overalls made him appear younger, his curls forced into order, his black eye garish against his pale skin. He didn’t look like the sneering, domineering man Deven had met only a few days before.

He looked scared, and Deven couldn’t blame him.  

The van lurched into gear and Deven struggled for a hand-hold against the corrugated wall of the vehicle. He jostled against August. Deven wanted to hold August’s hand again, to feel even just a fraction of the connection they’d shared less than an hour ago. But he worried it might look bad in front of the other agents so instead he reached out for one of the weapons piled in the center of the vehicle.

Director Alonsa leaned over the back of the front seat. “Put that down,” she shouted. “You aren’t going on the mission. You’re staying in the van with me.”

“
What
?” Deven and August both exclaimed.

“This is an NIAD operation. No consultants.”

Deven’s stomach dropped. “But—”

“I need him,” August snapped. “He’s the only one here who even speaks Night Axe’s language.”

“We take only vetted employees on high-risk operations,” the director said. “You know that.”

Deven felt something close to panic at the idea of being left behind. He’d finally found a role for himself in the natural world. The irony of being cut from the team because something was “too dangerous” was bitter.

“How do you plan to surprise Night Axe?” Deven asked, trying to sound more assured than desperate.

Director Alonsa shrugged. “We’re armed well enough that we don’t need surprise. But we should be able to move quickly enough to take him unawares.”

“The same connection to August that you’re using to find him will alert Night Axe to your approach,” Deven said. “He’s bound to have security wards protecting his lair. And you’ll be up against Night Axe’s soldiers. Remember what happened at the hospital.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Deven pressed on, “But I can get you into his lair, without detection, even with the connection to Agent August.”

Director Alonsa narrowed her eyes. “How?”

“I can transport you through a portal. You’ll appear out of thin air.”

August frowned. “I thought you could only use the pen to travel between calendars, not between portals in the same realm.”

“Yes, but I can move your entire force down to Aztaw and back up using the calendars.”

Only the sound of the van’s engine could be heard as everyone digested the idea. No one looked like they cherished the concept of traveling to Aztaw.