Kismet (8 page)

He backs up and sits down again, keeping his knees slightly open. He pulls my legs astride him and then holds his cock up. I have a moment to see it, all veined with a huge purplish red head glistening with the early drops of cum. Then, with his left hand, he pulls me forward until my dripping pussy is poised over his searching cock. I can almost see it try to reach for my heat.

Nervous anticipation grips my stomach. I am beyond excited. I don’t think it will take me too long until I climax, and I hope Kris is just as ready to explode. And then I am sinking down, my pussy grabbing and pulling him inside. His fingers reach behind me to find my anus, and the lubed-up digits slide in just as his cock pushes in. Immediately, I am overwhelmed with two experiences of pain, one extremely piercing and one slightly burning.

I arch my back. “Ahh!” I cry, stiffening.

Kris raises his head and retracts his fingers. “What the fuck?”

He tries to pull me off him, but I refuse to go. I clamp my thighs tight and hold him in me. “Just…wait a moment.” I breathe in my nose and out my mouth.

“You’re a virgin,” he says with a growl, but doesn’t try to retreat.

“I
was
a virgin.”

“Don’t give me semantics.”

Instead of saying something, I rock my hips. It’s not much, but it’s enough to realize the pain has eased somewhat, at least tolerably so. And Kris makes a moaning-hissing noise that I take as a good sign, so I rock my hips again.

“Fuck.” He groans and leans his forehead against mine. “You should have told me.”

“I’m not the only virgin here,” I whisper. “Please, Kris.”

He lets the air out of his lungs and then grabs my hips in his hands to move me. Back and forth, very tenderly and slowly, until my passageway eases from his monstrous cock seesawing its way into my body. And then suddenly, all pain disappears and the raw pleasure from earlier breaks over me, consuming me. I lean over and bite his ear, and this jump-starts his hips to pump faster. In and out we hammer each other, and I’m not sure if it is he who is out of control or if it is me. His balls slap against my ass; his cock impales me faster and faster. I grip my pussy walls around him so tightly there is a sucking sound as he pulls in and out. One of his hands leaves my hip to trace a path upward, grabbing my nipple and twisting it. The pain of it shocks me, but only to underline the pleasure that has consumed me.

“Kris,” I beg, though I don’t know what exactly I’m begging for. An end? More of this? Please don’t stop? There is a tremendous heat building in me that causes my legs to lock up as a wave crashes through my pussy. “Ah!” I scream and clamp my walls onto the horse-size cock stuffed inside me.

“Fucking hell!” Kris groans. He pauses for a heartbeat and then grabs my hips to yank me off his cock, just as it erupts, missing me and spraying on the broken concrete.

And then we collapse onto each other, both of us sweaty despite the coolness of the tunnel. It is several moments before either one of us can speak.

“You should have told me,” he says very quietly.

“Would it have made a difference?”

Instead of answering, he squeezes me tight and kisses the top of my head. “Who are you?” he whispers in my ear.

“I’m the girl you love.”

“I don’t believe in love,” he says in a sad way, as though he wished it was a lie.

“I think you don’t know what love is. At least, not real love.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. My tired brain just about caves to the exhaustion when I hear him say one last thing.

“I wonder if you can teach me.”

Chapter Six

The ricochet of the bullet takes a moment to register. I stare at the hand holding the smoking weapon and blink because the hand has no body. I follow the path of where the barrel points. Hyde stares at me funny, his green eyes searching frantically, and I wonder if I’ve been shot. If I have, I don’t feel any pain, no weak muscles or anything wet and sticky oozing from a bullet hole. But then everything freezes; the world comes to a halt with an infinitesimal pause as I try to figure out what’s just happened. I look down at myself, to make sure nothing is wrong, but my eyes instead come to rest on Hyde’s chest.

The wound is not on me.

Blood gushes out with every beat of his heart, turning the dark shirt he wears bright and shiny. There are even chunks of skin gaping from the hole. I want to vomit but find myself slightly off-kilter, detached, like I’m at the bottom of a pond swimming to reach the surface.

Then his knees buckle and he falls, arms gliding gracefully beside him to look like broken angel wings. He bounces once as his body slams onto the ground. Suddenly the world snaps back into motion as sound rushes into my head and I hear myself screaming. I can’t seem to stop screaming.

“Evie!”

The deep boom of my name shakes me from the dream. I am no longer draped across Kris’s thighs. Instead I am flat on my back, on the cold concrete floor staring into his dark eyes. I can see equal parts worry, confusion, and annoyance and have to wonder at that. It’s been a long time since I’ve annoyed anyone, and I don’t quite know what to make of it.

But for now I file that away for a future conversation and push him off me. I sit up and take a few deep breaths before scrambling to my feet. Kris is looking at me like I’m about to combust at any moment.

“We have to go get Hyde,” I say without preamble.

He blinks. I can see that this isn’t what he expected me to say. Instantly, his body tenses as he waits for me to elaborate.

“I saw a gun,” I say as I grab my sports bra and shirt and start dressing myself. “He gets shot. I don’t know the location. This dream isn’t quite like any I’ve had before. I’m standing next to him when it happens, but I’ve never seen the future like that.” I know I’m not explaining myself very well. I find my pants next to the little bench and yank them on. Next are my shoes. “Usually I see the future played out like I’m not there, and that’s how I know to fix it, but this time I’m right there and I don’t have time to stop it. Or I can’t stop it.”

I shut up as I strap my gun holsters on, followed by the knife sheath I had specially designed for my arm. Beside me Kris takes the opportunity to do the same thing, only he has more weapons to hide in strategic areas. Huh, I’ll have to remember those places. I stomp away from him, back down the murky tunnel that leads back to the underground city. Kris, who must have dressed while I lay on the broken concrete slab screaming like an idiot, falls into step beside me. And this time I’m the one who feels a flash of annoyance because he let me lie on that cold ground. How long was I on it?
If I get sick, I’m going to be so pissed!

There isn’t a clue to what time it is, though by how everything is quiet, I’m guessing either really late or really early. We take the tunnel that will lead us back to the door, and I’m not surprised to see four men guarding it. They each have guns, and when Kris and I appear, two of them turn those weapons on us. I throw up my hands.

“We’re leaving to find our comrade,” I tell them. Kris nudges me like this is a huge governmental secret, but who the fuck cares? I’ve learned that the way to get people to trust you is to be honest, because people like this, people who survive, they can tell when you’re lying. “We’ll be back.”

The guards look at each other in confusion. I don’t want to give them time to call Shalana, because I don’t think she’ll allow us to leave, so I take matters into my own hand by marching up to the vault door. It’s bolted big-time from this side, with massive sliding steel rods. Now, as I get a good look at it, I can see that the door is actually made out of steel as well, and I briefly wonder if it once belonged on a bank vault. The two guards look at their partners, and I wave to hurry them up. It works, and the door opens silently. But as soon as we exit through it, it bangs shut with an ominous echo.

On the surface it is quiet, eerily so. It is early, very early, morning, right when night caves to day. I walk to the street and then spin slowly, waiting for my spidey sense to kick in. Kris is behind me, watching and waiting. But I keep turning, and he keeps waiting, because I got nothing.

“Evie?” he asks, and I can hear the impatience in his voice.

I stop to face him. “I don’t know. Kris, I can’t feel him.”

We stare at each other, and I almost feel the tears start to well up in my eyes when we hear the distinct noises of a fight. Kris’s head spins in the direction, and then he’s off, running, and I’m right behind him. He’s better at jumping over stuff, but I’m faster, so I’m able to keep up. The sounds grow louder, and we round a building just in time to see Hyde go down, the man who stands over him brandishing a long, two-prong stick of sorts. Kris gives a battle cry and charges the man, plowing into him like a tractor-trailer knocking over a bicycle. The man lands on his back with Kris on top punching the hell out of his face.

“Stop!” I yell, running up to grab the forward momentum of Kris’s fist. “Kris! We have to help Hyde!”

The name must have gotten through, because Kris blinks and shrugs me off to roll to his feet. In seconds we kneel by Hyde, looking him over.

“He’s got a bruised jaw, but I don’t see any other wounds,” I remark.

Kris grabs the odd-looking stick. “It’s some type of cattle prod,” he mutters, “or a homemade Taser of sorts.”

I take a glance. The stick is long, cylindrical, with a rubber end for gripping and two metal spikes sticking out the other end. I put my ear to Hyde’s chest and hear a strong beat. “His heart is steady.”

At that moment, his body jumps, and all his muscles contract. It lasts for only a second, but by the time he relaxes, Kris is standing and pulling him into a fireman’s carry stance. He thrusts the stick at me to hold.

“Come on,” he says harshly and starts very slowly back the way we came from, the added weight of Hyde’s massive form making it difficult for Kris to walk quickly. But I see the determination in his face, the fierce resolution to get Hyde to safety, so I help him by navigating through the wreckage of the area.

The sun is fully out by the time we get back to the building hiding the subway entrance, and Kris has major sweat pouring from his skin as we enter the coolness of the hallway. I pound on the door leading down to the underground city.

“It’s Evie!” I yell. “With Kris and our partner Hyde!”

The door swings open, and Shalana stands there with her hands on her hips. I know she wants to say something to us, probably a dressing down for taking advantage of her hideout, but when she sees the unconscious Hyde draped over Kris’s shoulder, she organizes her people to help out. We rush through the empty greeting room and into the city. Many people stand around wanting to help, but I can see in their faces they don’t know what to do, so I push them aside. A man steps in front of me.

“I’m a doctor,” he says, and with those three little words, I could kiss him.

“This way,” Shalana instructs us, and we follow her, mindless of where we actually walk. My eyes focus on Hyde’s body, waiting to see if it will seize up again from the electricity that touched him. We enter through a hut, and Kris lays Hyde down gently. I don’t even care whose bed he’s on. The doctor, a tall man, reed thin with wire-framed glasses, bends over him, stethoscope in hand.

Kris and I wait by the door, Shalana stands off to my side, and she reaches up to grip my shoulder. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever been truly bite-my-nails nervous. Finally, after what seems to be hours but could only have been a matter of minutes, the doctor turns to us.

“He’s going to be fine.”

I let go of the breath I hadn’t realized I held. Shalana’s grip turns to a pat of good news, and I flash her a grateful smile.

Kris holds out the rod. “He was hit with this.”

The doctor takes it and looks it over. The weapon doesn’t come back on. “Electrical-voltage-type weapons work on the voluntary muscles of the body, those that affect walking or talking, and not the involuntary that controls breathing and the heart. There’s a small goose egg on his right temple, so for him to be unconscious, it might have been a combination of voltage and velocity.”

“But he’ll be okay?” Kris asks. Only I could hear the desperate need hidden within the innocent question.

The doctor nods, holding out the weapon. “You can keep him here. He needs to rest. I suspect he’s going to have a killer headache.”

He gives us a smile and then exits the small hutlike house, closing the door and leaving us alone. I notice that Kris can’t take his eyes off the Taser rod.

“It’s copper,” Kris mutters. “A perfect conductor of electricity. It wouldn’t be hard to charge it, and the rubber handle would protect the person holding it.”

“Not to mention a handy baton for bashing heads.”

“I’ve seen El Toro’s men carry those,” Shalana said.

“Again, who exactly is El Toro?” I ask.

“After the quake there were many little factions running rampant through the city,” Shalana explains. “El Toro is the man who rose among them all to become leader, either by brute force or by street smarts.” She shrugs. “I don’t know how or why or any of the details, but he loves watching two people fight to the death for entertainment.”

I’ve seen a lot in my travels. I’ve seen the good in people, and I’ve seen the absolutely hideous side of human nature. I can only imagine the barbaric, animalistic degradation that El Toro makes his captives face.

“I’m glad your partner is going to be okay,” Shalana tells us, but in the next second, she pins us with a hard, flat stare. “But never again treat our haven with such little regard. The only reason why this place works is because we religiously guard it. I won’t have you endangering any of my people.”

She left us to wallow in guilt, though I suspect Kris couldn’t care less about her words. His eyes hadn’t strayed from Hyde’s almost too-motionless form.

“He’s going to be okay.”

“You dreamed of him being shot, right?” he demands in a soft, gravelly tone. “That means it still might happen.”

I want to refute him, but I can’t, because yes, we might still lose him somewhere down the road. I guess my silence is answer enough, because he pulls away from me and rakes an unsteady hand over his cropped hair. Why am I the only one that can see the hurt, the pride, and the fear gathered in those hunched shoulders?